按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Within the room； Henry Arnaud again stood in darkness。 The only indications of his presence that reached the man outside were the sounds that he made。
The clasps of the bag clicked as Arnaud undid them。 He coughed slightly as he removed articles of apparel from the bag。 The door of the wardrobe banged dully as he pushed it shut。 Then the bed creaked as Arnaud flung himself upon it。
The noise of his breathing was interrupted occasionally by a slight cough。
Then those sounds decreased； and there were steady minutes of prolonged silence。
The man outside the door was listening intently。 With the subsidence of all sound； he moved； surely； but cautiously。
One hand came from his body。 Deftly； he inserted a pass key in the lock of the door。 The key turned。 The other hand was upon the knob。
Softly； steadily； the door of Henry Arnaud's room opened until it was ajar like that of the room across the way。
In this end of the hall； the light was dim and obscure。 Even so； the filtering rays might have attracted the attention of a man awake upon the bed。
But there was no sign to show that Henry Arnaud had stirred。
The sinister approacher took this as a good sign。 He stepped softly into the room； and closed the door behind him。
He crept around the foot of the bed； and passed slowly by the half…opened window。 He was close to the floor； the dim； reflected glow from Chinatown was not sufficient to betray the presence of the sneaking native who had e from that section of the city； to be here tonight。
But those vague rays of light did tell something of the man's purpose。
Something gleamed in one of the creeper's hands。 It was the blade of a long； vicious knife…the silent weapon of a noiseless assassin。
The crawling Chinaman stopped at the table by the head of the bed。 He listened there； then loomed upward。 His body extended over the bed。 His knife was in his right hand； ready to deliver a well…aimed thrust。 His left hand gripped the cord of the table lamp。
The hovering creature was one who planned his purpose well。 He was ready to perform two operations simultaneously。 That hand toying with the cord was prepared for its duty。
When the light came on； the knife blade would descend swiftly toward a vital spot before the sleeping victim could bee cognizant of danger。
Click！ The light was on。 Its sudden glare revealed the face from the dark…the yellow； leering face whose peering eyes were seeking the helpless form of the man in the bed。
The knife blade gleamed beside that sinister countenance。 But it remained suspended…motionless。
The bed was empty！ Not only empty； but the covers were unturned。
Henry Arnaud was not there！
THE lean； leering face of the Chinaman became a hideous； glaring monstrosity。 The stooping man wheeled quickly； looking for his prey。
With the lamp still lighted； he dropped beside the bed； and his peering eyes glared beneath。 Arnaud was not hiding there。
Writhing serpentlike along the floor； the man approached the wardrobe …
the only spot in the lighted room that afforded a hiding place。
The big door of the upright chest was latched…a sign that no one could be within。 But the Chinaman intended to make sure。 He was willing to rely upon his blade； even though his intended victim might be on the alert。
His clawlike hand clutched the little knob of the wardrobe。 It drew the door open； and the Chinaman leaped into the space behind it； his knife blade launching for a thrust。
That deadly arm stopped midway。 The wardrobe； like the bed； was empty！
Revolting though the yellow face had bee； the look of perplexity now upon it was ludicrous。 The man stood momentarily thwarted； but his bewilderment did not last。 He sprang back across the room and extinguished the table lamp。
The sinister face from the dark had returned to the dark。 But those insidious eyes were still searching。 They peered from the front window of the room。
The head extended through the opening； and turned downward toward the street below； a drop of sixty feet。 It appeared again at the side window。 Here； too； it inspected a sheer drop of more than sixty feet。
The wicked face turned its gaze toward the distant glow of Chinatown。
There； the sign of the Mukden Theater still displayed its roving change of lights。 But the luminous circle at the top now presented a blank center。 The two glaring spots of green had disappeared。
The Chinaman turned his eyes back into the room。 His hands were buried against his body。 The knife was there； waiting。
Ten minutes went by； then the crouching figure went back across the room and tiptoed to the other side of the hall。 The door of 806 was closed and locked。 But the tricked assassin waited； wondering。
Within the room； the dim glare of the distant lights was totally obscured by a black shadow in the window。 Henry Arnaud had returned。 He went noiselessly to his suitcase and took it with him to the window。 He affixed the handle of the bag to a thin； suspended rope。
His body…virtually invisible…swung from the window。 Long arms； reaching upward gripped a protruding row of bricks below the roof。 With amazing agility； the man ascended and drew himself to safety。 His bag came； up as he pulled the slender rope。
Across the roof he strode； toward the rear of the hotel。 He slid down a wall to a lower building。 His form seemed to dwindle away and disappear。 His further descent was an action unseen。
Henry Arnaud had gone。 He did not reappear。 But in his stead； a tall； black…clad man arrived at the end of a narrow street； a block from the Aldebaran Hotel。
Stooping in the gloom； he pressed his suitcase into a small； pact bundle that disappeared beneath the flowing cloak that he wore。 From beneath his slouch hat； this man peered forward with shrewd； gleaming eyes。
There； in the silence； hidden lips laughed； and their low； throbbing mockery made an eerie sound on the night air。
In the guise of Henry Arnaud； The Shadow had e to San Francisco！ The Shadow…dread avenger； who menaced evildoers of the East…had e to the Pacific coast！
What was his purpose here？ Did it concern the strange death of Stephen Laird？ Had that event declared the existence of criminal hands whose actions could be ended only by the power of this one man who waged relentless war on evil？
Only The Shadow knew！ Tonight he had thwarted the first of his hidden enemies。 He had walked into a trap。 He had tricked the assassin； the man whose hideous face had e from the dark。
Back in the hotel； that evil face was still on watch…its wicked eyes staring across the hall toward a room that was deserted。
The Shadow； strange wizard of the night； had learned why Stephen Laird had occupied that room。 With that knowledge gained； The Shadow was gone。 Only the echo of a weird； mocking laugh remained。
CHAPTER III
A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE
TWO men were seated in the living room of an elegantly furnished apartment。 One； the host； was attired in evening clothes。 He was a man about fifty years of age。
His gray hair gave him a firm dignity。 His eyes； mild and kindly； showed