It was the laugh of The Shadow!
THE man in the black cloak had undergone a remarkable transformation. He was no longer weary. Only a slight limp remained as a token of his crash in the speedster. The effects of his long, cramped hiding had disappeared.
He made a startling figure as he passed the lights of the avenue, his great, grotesque shadow forming an uncanny blot upon the pavement.
A short while later, the same man in black appeared in front of Rodney Paget’s apartment house. The Shadow entered the building unobserved, and rode up in the automatic elevator.
He stopped at the door of Paget’s apartment and silently inserted an oddly shaped key. He opened the door noiselessly and stepped into total darkness. The door closed behind him.
Then there was silence. Alert, The Shadow was listening. He seemed to sense the presence of some living being. He moved across the room, so noiselessly that no ear could have heard him.
There was a slight click as his hand pulled the cord of a lamp. The light revealed a man against the opposite wall — a grim-faced man whose eyes were intent upon the door. The fellow turned in amazement to stare into the muzzle of The Shadow’s automatic.
A soft laugh came from beneath the hat. The man by the door sullenly raised his hands. The Shadow moved toward him; then turned quickly as another man leaped from the corner of the room and fell upon him.
“Get him, Fritz,” hissed the man at the door, as he leaped toward the strugglers. “No gun! No noise!”
“I’ve got him, Bart,” came the triumphant answer. The attacker’s hands were gripping The Shadow’s throat.