'Turn left, and the passage will lead you to a garage beyond the warehouse. There are taxicabs in the
garage. You will have no difficulty in obtaining one. They go in and out, all hours of the night.
'Those who watch this house have no suspicion of my secret means of exit. The elevator is so designed
that it cannot be brought up to the fifth floor by any one who is in it.
'It is an automatic elevator; and the button marked '5' is useless. But you can bring up the elevator by
pressing the button on the fifth floor; and you can take it down with no difficulty whatever.'
'How do you return?' asked Cranston. 'You cannot ride up in the elevator.'
'I have usually returned by another route,' replied Zuvor. 'But should I desire to return through the
warehouse; or to bring any one here by that method, Ivan can be on hand at the appointed time, to
operate from the fifth floor.'
'Your plan is a good one,' said the millionaire. 'You are sure that the Red agents do not suspect it?'
Prince Zuvor shrugged his shoulders.
'That is possible,' he said. 'Yet so far, up until a few weeks ago, I am sure that they knew nothing. That
is why I have reserved this plan for leaving, only. It would be unwise to come back the same way.
'Now, I suggest that you go with Ivan. He will conduct you—in fact, he will disguise you so that you
cannot be recognized, if seen.'
Cranston looked at the Russian servant.
'Ivan was connected with the Imperial Theater, in Petrograd,' explained Zuvor. 'He is exceedingly clever
at make-up. I should advise you to test his skill.'
'Very well.'
Cranston bowed to the prince; then he followed Ivan Shiskin. The servant led him downstairs to the
basement. In a back room, Ivan brought out some make-up boxes.
'Just a mustache,' said Cranston, in fluent Russian. 'Place it here, with a twist on the ends.'
Ivan was expressionless as he followed the instructions. Then he bowed, and pointed to the door.
Cranston stepped into the alleyway; he followed it to the side door of the house in back. He entered the
house, and closed the door behind him.
The millionaire moved cautiously up the stairs. His footsteps were quiet, and careful. He reached the third
floor, and found the ladder to the roof.
He crouched low, after he had emerged; he replaced the hatchway, and moved toward the warehouse.
His coat was drawn closely about him; his hat was held tightly on his head. He suddenly became almost
invisible in the darkness.
The steps to the warehouse were painted white. They went up the outside of the building, which
connected with the adjoining house.
Cranston reached the top, and opened the door. He found himself in a large room, which had large
windows. It was fairly luminous because of lights that shone from the avenue beyond.
The millionaire pressed the button beside the entrance to the elevator. It was a small elevator, evidently
used by those who had business in the warehouse.
Cranston listened intently, as he heard the elevator ascend. His ear was pressed to the door; the sound of
the mechanism seemed to have a meaning to him.
The elevator reached the fifth floor, and stopped with a jolt, followed by a slight click. Lamont Cranston
did not open the door. Instead, he moved across the floor to another door, that appeared to be an
entrance.
Lamont Cranston had become The Shadow. His evolution had begun as he had entered the house in
back of Zuvor's residence.
A small steel tool entered the keyhole of the locked door. It probed the interior, and turned the lock. The
door seemed to open of its own accord. It led to a stairway, down into the warehouse.
The being that descended the steps was totally invisible. The Shadow had closed and locked the door
behind him; now he was bound for the first floor, using the stairway instead of the elevator.
His form arrived at the elevator door on the ground floor—the car did not appear there.
An invisible hand came from the darkness. The Shadow pressed the control button that would bring the
elevator down from the fifth floor.
A snapping sound resulted—far above. With a grinding whir, the elevator carriage dropped from its lofty
height.
A terrific burst of air came through the wide crack of the door on the first floor; then the falling elevator
whizzed past, and crashed at the bottom of the shaft, below the basement.
Some one had fixed the mechanism. The Red agents had planned a certain death for whoever might leave
Prince Zuvor's house by this secret route. When the elevator had arrived at the unused fifth floor, it had
set the mechanism automatically.
A few minutes later, a man appeared in the garage adjoining the warehouse. He appeared to have come
in from the street, along with a few others who had heard the muffled crash of the falling elevator. This
man was well dressed; his face was adorned with a turned-up mustache.
After a short survey of his surroundings, the man stepped into the street, and entered a taxi that was
standing outside the garage. The driver had intended to put his car away; but this opportunity for a late
passenger was too good to miss.
'Times Square,' said the man in back.
Once again, The Shadow had foiled those who had sought his life!
CHAPTER XXV. THE SHADOW HEARS
PROKOP sat sullenly in his apartment. He was seated in an armchair, his eyes gazing at the opposite
wall. He was a shrewd and capable man; even though he was neither subtle nor tactful. He disliked work
that took too long to finish. That was why he was in an ugly humor.
It was nearly twenty-four hours since the last meeting, at which he had been foiled in his efforts to seize
Arlette. Prokop had set the meeting early, in hopes that the Red Envoy would not put in an appearance.
He had also expected that the Red Envoy would visit his apartment; in fact, he had waited up until after
one o'clock. But the man of mystery had not arrived.
At this particular moment, Prokop was wondering about the Red Envoy. The man who came from
Moscow was amazingly well-informed. He seemed to possess some access to the secrets of the gang.
Prokop resented this surveillance; at the same time, he feared the Red Envoy. Prokop was the type of
man who respected only those whom he feared.
Prokop had learned one fact of interest during the day. An elevator had fallen in a warehouse near the
home of Prince Zuvor. He had gained this news through the papers—not from one of his agents.
The fact that the elevator had crashed was interesting; that no one had been found in the wreckage was
disappointing.
For Prokop had recently learned all about that elevator, through his agent, Fritz Bloch, the man who
posed as Prince Zuvor's servant.
The elevator had been adjusted for a catastrophe. But Prokop had hoped that some one would have
been in it.
