The ghoulish glare revealed a strange scene. The Shadow was standing just past the threshold of an Oriental apartment. The smooth walls were painted with weird figures; hideous dragons, leering joss gods, grinning devils that seemed creatures of an unbelievable nightmare.
The floor was covered by a complete carpeting of blood-red hue, criss-crossed by thin lines of bright gold. Off to the left was a break that showed the surface of a metal door — a barrier that had a completely solid front. The wall on the right showed no opening.
The door through which The Shadow had entered was not in the center of its wall. It was several feet to the right. Thus, to face the center of the opposite wall, The Shadow had been forced to turn at a slight angle. He had done so in the darkness. Already, he had leveled his automatic, even before the lights had appeared. For his keen ears had told him the exact direction from which the voice had come.
Thus The Shadow, like a visitant from a tomb, was ready by dint of uncanny precision. His living form was as outlandish as any of those nightmare paintings on the walls. Blazing orbs — the eyes of The Shadow — were fixed upon a half-domed niche cut in the farther wall. For there, behind a table of solid ebony, sat the man who had twice pronounced the word: “Enter.”
A Chinaman wearing a resplendent robe. A bland-faced Oriental who blinked placidly as he viewed his unexpected visitor. Though he had reason for surprise, the Mongol did not show the slightest trace of astonishment.
Yet The Shadow, too, had reason for surprise that he did not betray. For the face that he observed above that gorgeous robe was one that he had seen elsewhere, only a dozen minutes before. The Chinaman seated deep behind the ebony stand had the features of Tam Sook, the Celestial whom The Shadow had glimpsed departing by the alleyway below!
CHAPTER X. THE TRAP SPRINGS
TAM SOOK chuckled. There was dry mirth in his tone. He seemed to relish The Shadow’s presence.
He was unperturbed by the yawning muzzle of the automatic, though it loomed squarely before his almond-shaped eyes.
No response from The Shadow. His form became a statue; its sable hue matching the ebony of Tam Sook’s table. The burning eyes; the automatic; the girasol, sparkling from the white left hand — those alone formed a relief to the blackness of The Shadow’s garb.
Tam Sook’s chuckle ended. His eyes blinked. Then he spoke, in perfect English, except for the slight sing-song that the Chinaman had acquired from his native tongue.
“You are not the visitor that I expected,” remarked the Chinaman. “The one whom I awaited is called Slade Farrow. You, however, have displayed the required token. Therefore, I shall accept you in his place.”
The Shadow remained silent. Tam Sook indulged in a soft chuckle. The Chinaman settled farther back in his chair. He showed no dread.
“You are The Shadow,” pronounced Tam Sook. “You have come in the place of Slade Farrow. That is good. I am here instead of the man whom you seek. He is called Diamond Bert Farwell; but there was once a time when he was known as Wang Foo.”
Tam Sook paused. He placed his hands before him. They rested loosely upon the ebony table, like the hands of a musician, ready to play a piano selection. The gesture showed that Tam Sook had no weapon in readiness.
“Beneath this table,” remarked Tam Sook, “is a pedal upon which my foot is resting. While I continue to press it, this room will remain unchanged. Should I lift my foot” — the Chinaman paused to blink — “the entire floor will open. You, my visitor, will fall to your destruction.
“That is why your weapon is useless. The swifter your shot — should you choose to use your gun — the more rapid will be your doom. Should you wound me; should you kill me; the result will be the same. Death to you, The Shadow.
“Therefore, I advise you to make no foolish move. It would be preferable for you to talk. If you have any entreaty that you wish to make; if you have word for our mutual friend, Wang Foo, this is your opportunity to speak.”
Tam Sook paused. He fully expected The Shadow to reply. The Shadow, however, remained silent. His only motion was a slight backward glide, accompanied by a steady lowering of the automatic. Tam Sook took the hopeless retreat to be a gesture of surrender.
“PERHAPS,” observed the Chinaman, “you intend to wait until I have spoken further. Very well. I shall oblige. I shall answer a question that must be in your mind. I shall tell you about our friend, Wang Foo.
“This place was prepared as his abode. I have come here, night after night, to furnish it as his stronghold. To-night, my friend arrived. He came here as Diamond Bert. Awaiting him, I had the vestments that he required to once more assume his character of the past. The guise of Wang Foo.
“But he chose neither that guise nor this abode. Instead, he said to me: ‘Tam Sook, I wish you to remain here while I fare forth. Therefore, Tam Sook, I shall go as you. I shall be Tam Sook, the Chinese merchant; not Wang Foo, whom the police have known.’
“So Diamond Bert became Tam Sook. I, Tam Sook remained. Diamond Bert, the new Tam Sook, is free. He is ready to perform his chosen tasks. His workers are everywhere here. Those who carry the disks are ready for his call.”
There was cold truth in the Chinaman’s sing-song tone. The Shadow knew that this was the real Tam Sook. Diamond Bert had already arrived. Craftily, he had garbed himself as Tam Sook. An artist when it came to disguise, a man who had previously played a deceptive Chinese role, Diamond Bert had performed an expert job.
The Shadow had seen Diamond Bert at the alley door. The glimpse had been too short for The Shadow to discern the deception. The talk between Luke and Hunky had indicated that Tam Sook came here frequently and then departed. That had led The Shadow to accept Diamond Bert as the real Tam Sook.
“I remained here” — Tam Sook was resuming — “to greet the visitor who was expected. Slade Farrow. I stayed here to question him. To learn whether he might be friend or enemy. Instead, I have received you, The Shadow.
“You do not choose to speak. Therefore, I know that you cannot be a friend. You are an enemy. For such as The Shadow, there can be but one fate. You must die.”
As Tam Sook pronounced this verdict, he settled back into his deep chair. His hands slid from the table.
Then came a slight shift of his robed body. A muffled click sounded as Tam Seek raised his hidden foot from the pedal beneath the ebony table.
Splitting along its thin gold lines, the crimson floor dropped downward on heavy hinges. Except for the raised nook wherein Tam Sook was seated, the entire apartment changed into a yawning pit that formed a blackened cavern down into the cellar, three floors below. With that move, Tam Sook had blandly sprung the trap that he believed would hurl The Shadow to destruction.
But The Shadow had foreseen the move. He was acting as Tam Sook shifted. Swift in this moment of crisis, The Shadow had taken advantage of the one chance that offered. His left hand was sweeping upward as the click resounded. Just as the floor broke open, The Shadow clutched a bar of the little wicket set in the door through which he had entered.
The Shadow’s form slumped downward with the falling of the floor. But his left hand held its grip.
Dangling, with half his body beneath the level where the floor had been, The Shadow remained swinging before the startled eyes of Tam Sook.
THE right hand swung upward. Tam Sook slumped behind the level of the ebony table. A roar resounded through the open-floored room. A tongue of flame flashed from the automatic as The Shadow pumped a zimming slug upward through the woodwork of the ebony stand.