The charges of fascinating electricity shot back and forth through the mystic globe. It was the same test that had dazzled Harry Vincent and had destroyed his will. Now it came in much greater degree, a whirling, sparkling mass of terrifying brightness.
Closer and closer moved the globe, until it pressed against the rim of the broad-brimmed hat. The Shadow wavered. He seemed about to fall. His form relaxed.
The brightness ceased. The blue lights no longer flickered. The globe, sparkling gently, moved back to the curtain and disappeared.
Again The Shadow laughed, with his same defiance. He had met the test of The Black Master and he had ridiculed it!
"You have withstood my power," said the voice from the curtain, "but that is not all. Wait!"
The curtains began to close, forming a smaller space in the center of the room. The blue lights flickered and The Shadow's form wavered.
His mind could resist all that the enemy had to offer, but his physical being could not withstand the currents that swept through his frame. He stood numbed and powerless. The curtains were close about him.
The blurred white face had vanished. Only a black shape remained, outlined against the front of the curtain. An arm came from the curtain. It reached forward and plucked the black hat from The Shadow's head.
A low sound of amazement came from the curtain when the face of The Shadow was revealed.
"The secret of The Shadow," came the monotonous voice. "At last it is understood! The man of many faces — with no face of his own!"
The hand replaced the hat upon The Shadow's head. The flickering of the lights was ended. The Shadow was free to act, with his enemy but a few feet away. He made no action.
He knew too well the powerful forces at the disposal of The Black Master. One false motion would mean instant death.
"Perhaps you wonder why I do not kill you," said The Black Master, in a low, unchanging voice. "I shall tell you why! You are the only living man whom I have not cared to kill!
"You have sought to ferret out my crimes. You have discovered some of them — but not all. Let me ask you — and you may reply if you wish. Why do you seek to destroy me?"
The Shadow laughed in a low, hissing tone.
"I seek to destroy you," he said, in a sibilant, whispering voice, "because you are a creature of crime! You have brought death upon those who have not deserved it!"
"You, too, have resorted to crime," replied The Black Master.
"Not unless the end has justified the means!"
"With me" — there was a chuckle from the curtain — "it is the means that justifies the end.
"You are the only man in all the world who is like myself. Why should we care for human life? To me, human beings are stupid, useless creatures, with which the earth is overburdened.
"I know no pity. You, too, are pitiless."
"Only when I meet those who deserve no pity."
"None deserve pity," came the voice from the curtain. "Those who seek pity are mere creatures.
"You would not ask for pity! Nor would I! There is only one emotion that I have ever known. That is vengeance!"
The speaker paused to let his final words impress themselves upon the listener. The Shadow made no expression of interest.
"I shall explain," continued the voice. "You — I take it from your actions — believe in justice. Yet you find it in your own way. Where the law does not suffice, you forget the law.
"I believe in justice. One deed that I committed was inspired by justice. That was the death of Hubert Banks.
"Once — long ago — I loved! He destroyed that love! The woman whom I had loved died because of his neglect.
"From then on, my life has been one of hate. I sought vengeance. I waited years to gain it. Then I destroyed him — inch by inch — until he died, a maniac, by his own hand! He knew the pangs of remorse when he died. That was justice.
"In order to destroy the man who deserved destruction, I required human tools. I chose those who were governed by greed and fear. When I had used them, I destroyed them. That, too, was justice!"
"Perhaps," agreed The Shadow. "And by your own measure, your destruction would be justice, also!"
The hidden man chuckled.
"Let us agree on that," he said. "But I have spoken enough on that subject. I shall now discuss you — The Shadow.
"In one-tenth of a second, you can lie dead before me — if I desire it. But I prefer that you should live. For one reason, only — that is because you are the only being that in my estimation is worthy of living. So life is yours — if you will take it."
"Upon what terms?" came The Shadow's challenging vice.
"Upon your word. I offer you companionship — all the power that I possess, with equality.
"If you do not choose it, I demand but one thing. Your promise that you will never molest me, nor interfere knowingly with my plans. Do you agree?"
"No!" replied The Shadow.
"Death is the alternative."
The Shadow laughed contemptuously. Again the weird sound of his mockery swept through those morbid surrounding.
"I shall give you opportunity to choose," said The Black Master sternly. "I shall place you where escape is impossible! There I shall come for your reply.
"You will have but one opportunity. In the meantime — taste of death!"
There was a terrific flare of light. A cloud of pungent smoke filled the room.
With the first burst of brightness, The Shadow crumpled and fell upon the floor, overpowered by a tremendous shock. For a moment he lay in view, a huddled, helpless form. Then came darkness.
The chuckle of The Black Master sounded hoarsely amid Stygian gloom.
CHAPTER XXI. THE SHADOW RETURNS
THE SHADOW moved unsteadily to his feet in absolute darkness. He stooped and groped about him for his hat. He found it and put it on.
Then his nimble fingers discovered a flashlight in his pocket. A moment later it illuminated the space.
The Shadow was in a stone mausoleum. A covered tomb was in one corner. Upon it rested two circular cylinders, containing crackers and water.
The Shadow laughed. The supply was sufficient to last several days. Evidently The Black Master did not intend to return immediately.
The Shadow made a brief inspection of his prison. No more impenetrable dungeon could have been contrived.
The floor was of concrete, the walls of solid stone. Only by running his fingers around them did The Shadow discover the door of the prison.
It was obvious that the mausoleum was in some obscure cemetery. No human cry would be sufficient to reach the outside world.
Searching through his clothing, The Shadow discovered that he had been deprived of all his possessions, with two exceptions — the flashlight and a flat, black disk — the token of The Black Master! The disk had been left there, evidently, as a reminder that he still had the choice of siding with that being whose crimes were limitless.
The Shadow lifted the top of the tomb and peered within. It was empty. Then his deft hands moved to the bottom of his cloak. The Shadow laughed, and in that solemn vault, the sound reverberated again and again until it died away to a ghostly echo.
The Black Master had searched well; but even he had not fully estimated the ingenuity of The Shadow.
The mausoleum, bolted and locked from the outside, might seem a permanent prison for any man, unequipped with tools or objects with which to attack the thick walls that were built to stand the ravages of time.
But The Shadow's captor had failed when he had searched his victim. He had deprived him of articles that would be useless; but he had left a most powerful and unknown weapon.