A small steel tool entered the keyhole of the locked door. It probed the interior, and turned the lock. The door seemed to open of its own accord. It led to a stairway, down into the warehouse.
The being that descended the steps was totally invisible. The Shadow had closed and locked the door behind him; now he was bound for the first floor, using the stairway instead of the elevator.
His form arrived at the elevator door on the ground floor — the car did not appear there.
An invisible hand came from the darkness. The Shadow pressed the control button that would bring the elevator down from the fifth floor.
A snapping sound resulted — far above. With a grinding whir, the elevator carriage dropped from its lofty height.
A terrific burst of air came through the wide crack of the door on the first floor; then the falling elevator whizzed past, and crashed at the bottom of the shaft, below the basement.
Some one had fixed the mechanism. The Red agents had planned a certain death for whoever might leave Prince Zuvor’s house by this secret route. When the elevator had arrived at the unused fifth floor, it had set the mechanism automatically.
A few minutes later, a man appeared in the garage adjoining the warehouse. He appeared to have come in from the street, along with a few others who had heard the muffled crash of the falling elevator. This man was well dressed; his face was adorned with a turned-up mustache.
After a short survey of his surroundings, the man stepped into the street, and entered a taxi that was standing outside the garage. The driver had intended to put his car away; but this opportunity for a late passenger was too good to miss.
“Times Square,” said the man in back.