“The Shadow!” he exclaimed.
The figure in black bowed.
“I am pleased to meet you, Prince Zuvor,” he said, in a sinister whisper. “I am surprised to find you here in Germany.”
THE seated man bit his lips. He raised himself, as he regained his composure. He watched the figure as it moved backward toward the door.
“The Shadow,” said Prince Zuvor musingly. “Strange that I should think of that name. I discussed The Shadow once, with a friend of mine — a gentleman named Cranston. Do you chance to know him — Lamont Cranston?”
There was a suave calmness in the man’s voice. Completely recovered from his first surprise, he was endeavoring to cover his mistake.
“Prince Zuvor,” said The Shadow, in the same uncanny whisper, “we have met in various places, under different identities.
“Perhaps you believe that you know who I am. I can assure you that you are wrong.
“Perhaps you believe that I did not recognize you the last time we met. If so, you are wrong again. The crimson mask that disguised your face was not sufficient — especially when I tell you that I had previously learned that Prince Zuvor and the Red Envoy were one individual.”
The Russian smiled.