“Even his purpose in life is a mystery. Some claim that he is a detective; others, that he is an archcriminal who thwarts the schemes of other crooks, and profits through them.”
“Even more interesting,” laughed Cranston. “Where did you learn of this mysterious person?”
“Through refugees whom I have aided,” replied Prince Zuvor. “Some of the unfortunates from Russia have been forced to mingle with low associates. Whenever they appeal to me for aid, I learn all about their actions. Two or three have mentioned The Shadow.
“My knowledge of criminal activities in New York is by no means small. I could give the police important information if I chose to do so. But criminals mean nothing in my life. Thieves — robbers — burglars — I fear none of them. Those who oppose me are more than criminals. They are agents of Moscow.”
“They are watching you now?” questioned Cranston.
“They are watching me always. You have told me very little of your past life, friend Cranston; but I know that you were familiar to some extent with the espionage system of the czarist government. It was considered to be an organization of clever men; was it not?”
Lamont Cranston nodded.
“The czar’s agents,” said Zuvor, “were children compared to the men who now receive their orders from Moscow. Why? Because the Red agents can find a haven in any country.
“Here in America, they are received by communist organizations. They are protected.
“Silent, and unseen, they hide behind a perfect smoke screen. They let the American radicals blurt and fume; they remain silent, and direct the work. No man can cope with them.”