“And you” — The Shadow’s gaze turned to Motkin, who trembled before the glance — “are a man who knew the truth. Your knowledge was pitiable. You were placed in charge of a stronghold which contained pretended wealth. You took men there, to show them what they imagined to be priceless possessions.
“You were appointed by those above you to delude certain persons with a hoax; to create the impression that the Reds in Moscow still held the vast Romanoff wealth. You knew the truth; it was your work to maintain the pretense.
“You had the privilege of taking persons to the vault, that they might see the supposed wealth and tell the world that the jewels were still in Russia.
“You were overconfident. The false gems were stolen. Had they been the real jewels, you would have been executed. But your crime of failure was less, because of the existing facts.
“You were given an opportunity to redeem yourself; to reclaim the false gems before those who stole them had discovered that they were worthless imitations. To you, these bits of glass are worth further crime and destruction to regain.
“So I shall take them with me when I leave. You, like these others, shall taste bitter disappointment. The reign of blood shall end.”
STEPPING backward, The Shadow glided toward the door. He paused there with one hand upon the knob. Motkin and Noyes trembled.
Froman did not speak. He did not fear death. He hated the apparition in black. He hated Motkin. He was willing to die, if these two perished with him. Froman’s lips formed a triumphant smile. Let The Shadow die!
The man in black paused. A low laugh came from his concealed visage. His eyes turned toward Froman.
“I know your thoughts,” he said. “You are willing to die, if you could see me perish. I suspected your trap. I saw signs of it when I was here before — when I came to talk with Marcus Holtmann.”