“X’s” eyes gleamed. Was this to be the opportunity? He caught the key in the air, and waited.
“Use that key in the slot of the panel at the end of the corridor. Go through the opening, and turn left. You will find a heavy, barred door. Unbar it, then wait till I press the button from the inside, which unlocks it.”
The Agent nodded. He was going to be left alone, with a key. Was the Skull growing careless, or was he trusting him?
The Skull went on. “I will need you in that room. Nate Frisch has gone on another errand; and anyway, I think your higher intelligence will be better suited to my needs in this case. For in that room, Fannon, is the answer to the identity of Secret Agent ‘X’! It is the master stroke of mine that will remove him from my path! Go now, and wait at the barred door!”
The door behind the Secret Agent opened, and he stepped out into the anteroom. Here was something that required careful action. Without a doubt he must go into that room behind the barred door and see what the Skull’s stroke of genius consisted of.
He made his way down the corridor, through the sliding panel, and unbarred the heavy door. As he waited, he searched his subconscious mind, and was amazed to discover that the thought of Betty Dale’s possible predicament overshadowed his present task. He had never thought that the emotion of deep friendly regard — almost of protectorship — had grown so strong in him. Perhaps it was the realization that he was here, helpless to aid her at the moment, which preyed so upon him.
His revery was interrupted by a slight click, following which the heavy door swung open, revealing a room in utter darkness. “X” entered grimly, and the door swung shut behind him. He couldn’t see a foot in front of him now.
SUDDENLY a dull glow began to grow high up along the wall, and “X” started, his lips forming into a thin line as he realized where he was. The glow dimly illuminated the forbidding figure of the Skull standing in a niche in the wall. And below the niche, built into the floor, was the electric chair in which Tyler had been executed. And beside the chair was a trussed-up figure that stirred and uttered a helpless little moan.
The wire mesh that had separated the room into two parts before was now raised so that a man could pass under it. “X” took an involuntary step toward that pitiful figure on the floor, but stopped, restraining himself by an iron exercise of will power.
And suddenly the spotlight from up above burst into brilliant luminance, bathing the chair and the trussed-up figure in a merciless light.
And “X” gasped. For that helpless figure on the floor was the golden-haired figure of Betty Dale.
She was bound and gagged, but her eyes were wide open, reflecting hopeless resignation.
From the niche came the Skull’s voice. “This lady, Fannon, is known as Miss Betty Dale. She is in the confidence of Secret Agent ‘X,’ and should be in a position to supply us with some very interesting information about that gentleman. She is unwilling to talk, but I feel sure we can remedy that.”
“X” wet his lips and stepped forward under the brilliant blare of the spotlight.
The Skull said crisply, “Take off her gag, Fannon, and see if she would like to talk before we begin to do things to her.”
“X” knelt beside Betty Dale, and his fingers moved clumsily to remove the gag while he looked down into her determined little face. He dared not say a word to her lest it be heard by the Skull in the stillness that had descended upon the room. He tried to make his eyes expressive, but it was no use.
In him now, she saw nothing but a vicious criminal henchman of the master who stood in the niche above. She had never been able to penetrate any of his disguises, and could not be expected to do so now with her nerves in the frayed condition that they must be in before the ordeal which she knew was inevitable.
When the gag was off, the Skull said in the mocking tone which “X” had begun to loathe, “Well, Miss Dale, you must talk now if you wish to avoid the things I have in store for you. Will you give me the information I need?”
She opened her mouth, but gulped, not trusting herself to talk. She clamped her lips tight and shook her head, staring defiantly up into the spotlight.
The Skull sighed, and went on, as if explaining some elementary proposition to a child. “You don’t understand, Miss Dale. I am sure, that after I have described to you what I intend to do to you, you will be very glad to tell me all you know.” The vermilion-cloaked arm rose, and a gloved finger pointed to the electric chair. “You know what that is, of course, Miss Dale, since you are a newspaper woman; it is an electric chair. You look at it, contemplate death, and feel yourself strong enough to die rather than betray this friend of yours who is known as Secret Agent ‘X’.”
He uttered a short, mocking laugh. Betty remained silent, her face white, biting her lower lip. “X” felt a surge of blind anger sweep over him at the sight of the girl’s mental anguish, at the contemplation of the physical anguish which the Skull planned for her. But his will conquered his instinct. To make a rash move now would gain neither of them anything but death; for the Skull was impregnable in his niche up there, surrounded no doubt, by clever, ingenious defenses.
The Skull went on. “What will you say, Miss Dale, when I tell you that this electric chair does not kill! It will maim you! Maim you mentally and physically, will make you an imbecile within five seconds of the moment when I pull the switch. You have heard of the men who were found in the streets — strong men, intelligent men. When they were picked up in the streets, it was found that their bodies and minds were shattered. That, Miss Dale, is what will happen to you. You will be thrown out into the street to be found by your friend and protector, Secret Agent ‘X’! I shall send you as a challenge to him — a challenge from the one man who is his match!”
Betty Dale’s eyes reflected the horror of the words she had just heard. Her chin trembled.
“X” clenched his fists so that the nails bit into the palms of his hands, in an effort to restrain himself from leaping up at the Skull.
The Skull said to “X,” “You were here this morning, Fannon. Tell her how it works.”
“X” bent over Betty, said in a clear voice, “It would be better for you to talk, Miss Dale. What the Skull tells you is true — there is just enough current to shatter the nerves, destroy the brain cells. Believe me, it is not pleasant.”
Betty turned her eyes from the niche to the face of “X,” staring at him in loathing. “You fiends!” she cried huskily. “You wouldn’t dare!”
Once more the Skull’s horrid, mocking voice addressed him. “She doesn’t believe that we’d do it, eh, Fannon? Let’s show her.” The vermilion-cloaked figure raised a hand and pointed to the opposite wall. “Look!”
At the same moment the spotlight shifted, focusing on a spot in the wall. A small panel, about four feet square slid up, revealing a barred opening.
“Untie her, Fannon, and take her over there. Let her look in.”
“X” knelt beside her, fumbled for the knots, and untied Betty Dale. He helped her to her feet silently, though she shrank from him. It was impossible to whisper a word here that would not be overheard by the sinister figure in the niche above him. “X” had noticed already that the acoustic properties of the room were such that the slightest whisper could be heard.
Betty struggled, moaned, “I don’t want to look at anything. Leave me alone.”
“Make her look, Fannon!”
“X” gripped her arm in his powerful fingers, led her to the barred window. Somehow, his touch seemed to quiet her, for she went with him. The aperture was at the height of a tall man’s chest. Betty’s eyes barely reached above the ledge, but it was enough to enable her to see that which was in the room beyond. She looked, and “X” felt her whole body grow rigid. But she did not faint. From her throat there came shriek after shriek of horror.