His listeners gazed at him quizzically.
“There is a real man called The Shadow,” said Berkeley, in a low voice. “I have heard that, on good authority.
“He tries to pretend that he is simply a fictitious character. He is featured in a radio program. Yet, actually, he is real, and alive.”
He paused to let his words take effect.
“No one knows his purpose,” he continued. “Criminal or detective — whichever he may be — he strikes terror into the hearts of gangsters. He moves by night.”
“Some have seen him; yet none can recognize him. He is a man of many faces; the only one that no one has ever observed is his own.”
Some of the men were serious; others were smiling. Berkeley became impressive.
“The Shadow is said to be a man of wealth,” were his next words. “He might be any one of us. You, for instance!”
Berkeley pointed directly at Lamont Cranston.
“I?” questioned Lamont Cranston. “The Shadow?” He began to laugh at the suggestion. His mirth was contagious. The others joined, much to Berkeley’s annoyance.