* * *
Heavy footsteps were clanging from the stone stairs. The Shadow crumpled the paper as he rose. He moved toward a corner of the room, and his form became still. It merged with the darkness in the corner.
Any one suspecting it might have distinguished its presence; to the casual observer it could mean nothing more than natural blackness.
Two policemen entered the chamber, carrying a body on a stretcher. They were followed by the morgue attendant, who indicated one of the trucks. The body was deposited there.
“There’s another one for you, Bill,” observed one of the policemen, removing his cap, and wiping his forehead. “You and Mike get a regular collection here, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” replied the attendant.
“Does the place ever give you the creeps?” asked the officer.
“No,” answered the attendant. “Why should it? They’re all dead ones here. There ain’t no chill ever comes over me.”
The men were facing the far end of the room. The shadow in the nearer corner came suddenly to life. It moved, like a black spectre, across the room to the steps. There, hidden in the darkness of the stairs, it paused.
Then to the ears of the three men who stood beside the body came a most terrifying sound.