“Because another man intervened. He took the ring from the thief, but did not keep it at the time. He had a ring made to resemble it. He took the genuine ring and left the other in its place.” The truth dawned upon Paget. He knew who was masked as Number Five. The Shadow!
That was why his room had been visited at Blake’s home, on different nights. He understood the purpose of the silent figure on the lawn. He wanted to cry out his thoughts, but he was too alarmed to speak.
“Tell me,” came the voice of the leader, “who was our member who was murdered? Since he is dead, he cannot be among us.”
There was a threatening significance in his tone. Yet it did not phase the man who stood by the door.
“His name,” said Paget’s accuser, “was Henry Marchand.”
“And his number—”
“Five.”
“Then you are the man who took the ring from the thief,” came the menacing voice of Number One. “You are not Number Five—” He stepped toward the speaker, and the members of the group began to move with him. “You are—”
“The Shadow!”
As the man at the door announced his identity, he placed his hand against the wall beside the door. A loud peal of mocking laughter came from beneath his hood. The door slid open. The Shadow stepped aside.