Maxwell Grant - The Shadow 001 by The Living Shadow

Author:The Living Shadow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-14T23:19:20+00:00

Yet he seemed perplexed. He turned and crouched before the safe; then arose and watched his shadow.

No, it was not the same. He repeated the experiment. Still he was not satisfied. He went quickly to the window and opened the lower sash. He peered through the bars toward the lawn.

There were shadows there; shadows that seemed to move as the night breeze rustled the trees and bushes. A long shadow flitted over the lawn and vanished. But the keen, piercing eyes of the lawyer could detect nothing else. He had removed his reading glasses and was staring with his far-sighted eyes.

He closed the window and laughed. He turned back and shut the steel door with a clang. He removed the key and placed it in his pocket.

“Shadows,” he murmured. “When people worry about shadows, their minds begin to wander. Croaker talked of shadows. What was it he screamed the night he died? ‘The Shadow!’ That was it! Perhaps The Shadow is a living being. But if he is - what of it?”

The old man laughed again.

He went back to his desk and began to write.

But now his mind was alert as his ears had always been. At moments he gazed quickly toward the window, which he had closed and locked.

The hours went by and the first streaks of dawn appeared. Ezekiel Bingham finished his writing, laid the papers in the desk drawer, and yawned.

There was a knock at his door.

“Come in.”

Jenks entered. The man was dressed in working clothes, and stood there, his stolid face impassive.

“I am on duty, sir.”

“All right, Jenks.”

The old lawyer went into the front room and made ready for bed. As he pulled down the shades to obscure the increasing rays of daylight, he smiled and spoke aloud.

“The Shadow!” were his words. “Some people have wild imaginations!”

A faint laugh seemed to mock the lawyer’s words - a laugh that issued feebly from the walls of his room.

It was a chill of mirth that might have crept in from outer spaces, where crimson tints had flushed the new day’s sky. A laugh that was a left-over from darkness, bespeaking the departure of some creature that dwelt in night.

Old Bingham chewed his lips; then smiled sourly. The touch of day against the window shade quelled his momentary alarm. Darkness had passed; there was no need to fear the presence of an imaginary being called The Shadow.

“Bah!” snorted Bingham. “Just the scurrying feet of rats.”

Satisfied that his plans were secrets known only to himself, Ezekiel Bingham fell asleep untroubled. Not for one moment did he suspect that the night just past had brought him an unseen visitor.

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