Prince Zuvor could not believe his ears. Twenty killed in an explosion! It was not an exaggeration, after all. His eyes turned unconsciously toward the newspaper.
“Ah!” The Shadow’s tone expressed approval. “I see that you are interested in my transatlantic flight.
“It was on your account that I made that journey. I had to make up for lost time. Lieutenant Branson will receive credit for it, even though I took his place. I could easily have reached Berlin; but I preferred to complete my trip on this train de luxe.”
THE Russian could not restrain the gasp that escaped his lips. He stared at the man before him, and his hopes fell, as he realized the superhuman ability of his opponent.
“Your game was a clever one, Prince Zuvor,” said The Shadow. “I do not care whether you played it by choice, or whether it was forced upon you. The result was the same.
“It was pleasant to live in New York, as a representative of the former aristocracy of Russia, and to hold the position of Red Envoy, also. One protected the other.
“You could trap your czarist friends without suspicion. As Fritz Bloch, you reported Prince Zuvor’s doings. As the Red Envoy, you could prevent Prokop from molesting Prince Zuvor. And through it all, Ivan was faithful to his master.”
The Shadow ceased speaking, and stood silent, his black cloak swaying with the motion of the train. It seemed almost as though he was lost in admiration of Prince Zuvor’s cleverness. His next remark carried that thought.
“So now you return to Russia, Prince Zuvor. Very well; return if you wish. But first you will hand over to me the plans which you stole from Professor Whitburn. Where are they?”
Prince Zuvor quietly folded his arms in front of his body. He could feel the pressure of a thick envelope beneath his coat.