his
way to the heavy shutter that barred the window of the second-story room.
There The Shadow rested, listening for every sound. At length, his figure moved. Hands, working in the
dark, unfastened the bars that held the shutter. The barrier opened without a creak.
Despite that opening, none of the glow from the room within appeared upon the wall of the opposite
building. The Shadow's form blocked the path of the light.
The agile form moved inward. The shutter closed behind it. The Shadow stood within the room. Tall,
amazing and weird, he surveyed the only occupant of the chamber.
Perry Wallace lay slumped in a large chair. The man appeared to be asleep. He was totally oblivious to
the arrival of The Shadow. There was no sign of Lopez.
The visitor from the night advanced and placed a gloved hand upon the shoulder of the inanimate man.
Perry did not move.
A black hand went beneath the cloak which The Shadow wore. The garment swayed and its crimson
lining gleamed as The Shadow brought forth a vial which contained a purplish liquid. He placed the small
bottle to Perry's nostrils. Perry tossed back his head as though awakened in a fright. He opened his eyes
and stared dully at the form that towered before him.
The Shadow's whisper was a warning for Perry to make no noise. Perry nodded that he understood. His
eyes closed wearily. Again, The Shadow applied the vial. Perry came to life with a start.
“Where is Lopez?”
The whispered question came to Perry's ears. He rubbed his forehead and looked at his questioner.
“Downstairs,” he answered, in a low voice. “I—I'm groggy. Wait a minute; then I can talk.”
The Shadow stepped away. He stood at the other side of the room, his gleaming eyes focused upon the
man in the chair. The Shadow's left hand rested upon the receiver of the telephone.
“He—he—must have doped me—” Perry's voice came wearily. “I—I did as I was ordered. Made
friends with him. Got groggy—don't know when—this afternoon, I guess. Lopez said he was going
downstairs. I - I don't remember much after that.”
The Shadow waited in silence. Perry Wallace recovered his senses rapidly. The pungent odor of the
liquid in the vial had completely overcome his lethargy.
“I have an important message,” declared The Shadow. “You must remain here until midnight. An attack
has been ordered upon the house. I have provided against it. If Lopez wants you to go, insist upon
remaining.”
The voice broke off. The Shadow's form moved away and blended with the darkness near the window.
Lopez was coming up the stairs. Perry dropped back in his chair. He opened his eyes wearily when the
secretary entered.
“H'lo,” he said, in a groggy voice. “What time's it?”
“Nearly half past eight,” answered Lopez.
“How long we goin' t'be here?” mumbled Perry.
“We are not going away,” responded Lopez. “Not unless we receive word to leave.”
He looked at Perry closely. In response, Perry shut his eyes and sank back for another nap. Lopez
grinned and left the room. His footsteps echoed from the hall below.
THE SHADOW was back at the telephone. Through the brief visit of Lopez, he had learned a vital
fact—that Desmond had failed to follow orders. All was well with Legira. Vincent's report to Burbank
checked that matter. Nine o'clock should be the time for flight—or for the summoning of aid. That fitted
