Tyrell awaited his first triumph as he peered forward, waiting for The Shadow’s head to rise. He was anxious to see this visage that had been hidden. He wanted to meet The Shadow face to face, as a man, not as a being of weird appearance. The head came upward.
Mark Tyrell stood astounded. Face to face with The Shadow, his rising triumph faded. If he had really wanted proof of The Shadow’s identity, Tyrell could have had none more fitting. For the face that Tyrell saw before him was a tribute to The Shadow’s mastery of disguise. It was a countenance that proved The Shadow’s craft. It was the one face that Mark Tyrell had never expected to see.
To the last detail; eyebrows, lips, short-clipped mustache, even color of complexion, The Shadow had molded his plastic countenance into an exact duplicate of Mark Tyrell’s own. Such had been The Shadow’s actions in the room across the hall. Possessed of a photographic memory, this strange visitor had made himself up to appear as the double of the man whom he had seen through the window.
Mark Tyrell might well have been staring at his own reflection in a mirror. As his lips opened in amazement; as his eyes blinked in surprise, the face before him copied the expressions to exactitude. This was The Shadow; but his disguise left Tyrell breathless.
Instead of observing a revealed countenance that he could check for future recollection, Mark Tyrell was balked. The Shadow had granted his requests. There was no course other than to talk. But in the coming interview, Mark Tyrell would be at a hopeless loss. For all the while he spoke to The Shadow, the schemer would be face to face with himself!
CHAPTER IV
THE INTERVIEW
“WILL you sit down?”
The question came in Mark Tyrell’s voice; but it was not uttered by the man himself. The Shadow, finished with his mimicry of expression, was acting the part of host while Tyrell stood stupefied. It was The Shadow who spoke.
His voice an exact copy of Tyrell’s own. The Shadow was choosing a chair for himself while he pointed Tyrell to another seat. Mechanically, Tyrell moved toward the spot designated. He dropped into the chair, let his stroked cigarette fall into the ash stand beside him, and stared, still gaping, at his visitor.
The Shadow drew a cigarette case from his pocket. He removed a cigarette, lighted it and puffed in a manner that was an exact copy of Tyrell’s way of smoking. It was plain that through the coming interview, Tyrell would be forced to watch a display of his own actions.
“You’re clever!” blurted Tyrell suddenly. “Deucedly clever! Any one seeing the two of us could not tell which was which.”
“Perhaps not.” The Shadow, in replying, chose his words in a precise fashion that Tyrell had used. “In fact, Tyrell, it might be wise to consider ourselves as a single individual in this coming discussion. Crime is in your mind. Your actions show it. Possibly if you visualize me as yourself, I may serve you as a conscience.”
The irony of The Shadow’s speech brought a snarl from Mark Tyrell. The man had lost his suavity. Strangely, The Shadow was playing Tyrell’s usual part better than the man did it himself. The final effect was exactly what The Shadow desired. Tyrell threw cunning to the wind and broke loose with angry words.
“So you figured out that I’m going in for crime?” he challenged. “Well, I am! That’s why I wanted to see you first. But if you think you’re going to talk me out of it, you’re wrong. What I’m going to do is talk you into it!”
“Interesting,” responded The Shadow, in mockery of Tyrell’s former suavity. “Interesting, but quite unconvincing.”
TYRELL scowled. He was about to blurt forth a new tirade when he caught himself. Nervously, he chewed his lips while he drew a cigarette from his pocket. Despite the steadiness of The Shadow’s eyes, glowing from the duplicate of Tyrell’s own countenance, the schemer managed to regain something of his former smoothness.
“Very clever,” he remarked, with a forced laugh. “You threw me out a bit, with that trick make-up of yours. I know you for The Shadow right enough. No one but The Shadow could work a stunt as neat as this one.”
“Remember,” came The Shadow’s feigned tone, “you are talking to yourself.”
“I’m talking to The Shadow,” declared Tyrell, swallowing his anger at the sarcasm. “To you — The Shadow. I’m telling you my game; and I’m giving you a fair proposition.”
“Proceed.”
“I’m not a crook,” insisted Tyrell. “I’m a promoter. Maybe the two are something alike. In fact they are. Because I’m a promoter that’s going in for crime. I’ve done none yet; but my plans are made.
“If I had already committed crime” — Tyrell paused with his shrewdness regained — “I would not have dared to communicate with you, The Shadow. I know that you are death on crooks. My plans concern the future; not the past.
“There are certain persons here in New York who own treasures of immense value. I do not refer to large collectors, who have immense galleries of paintings, or vast stores of precious gems. I mean individuals whose collections each boast one particular object of particular worth. Such men do not have the protection that they should. Therefore, their treasures are open to theft.”
Tyrell waited. Seeing that his double did not care to make a comment, he proceeded.
“I have planned five robberies,” resumed Tyrell. “In each case I intend, with proper aid, to purloin a single object of high value. I know how the stolen treasures can be sold. I expect to aggregate close to a million dollars through these thefts.”
“Interesting,” observed The Shadow, when Tyrell again paused. “You plan crime. Yet you inform me of its approach. Quite considerate of you, old chap.”
“Considerate?” Tyrell smiled. “Yes, it is; particularly because of the offer that I am here to make. My game is set. If you keep hands off, I shall make you a present of one hundred thousand dollars.”
“In advance?”
“In advance. Give me your word that you will avoid all interference and the money will be yours before I begin.”
“And if I choose to ignore your terms?”
“The crimes will proceed. If you try to thwart them, your actions may prove an obstacle to me; but I assure you that my ways will be too crafty for you to defeat.”
Quietly, The Shadow arose from his chair. He let his cigarette fall in exact imitation of Tyrell’s previous gesture. The smile that formed upon his lips was as crafty as Tyrell’s own.
“We met as friends, Tyrell,” remarked The Shadow, still imitating the other’s suavity. “We can part as friends. When crime commences, we will be enemies.”
“One moment!” Tyrell was on his feet as The Shadow reached for hat and cloak. “I gave you friendly terms. Since you have refused them, I offer a fair warning that you may remember when we have become enemies.”
THE SHADOW’S eyes burned toward the suave speaker. Tyrell, his ardor aroused, met the gaze and spoke further.
“I have planned these robberies cleverly,” he stated. “They will not involve injury or death, provided that I am unmolested. But let me assure you of this; on the occasion of each crime, I shall have strength sufficient to kill.”
“Perhaps you do not fear my threat.”
“On the contrary, I do not fear your power. But I warn you: innocent persons will be involved on every occasion. Should you appear to make a single move against me; should I learn that you have given information to the police, I shall give orders to kill.