The hundred-odd men and women of Scorpia shivered in the darkness beyond
the stage. All had heard tales of Cho-San’s torture room. Some even had
visited the vaulted chamber and seen old bloodstains on those devilish
machines.
They remembered their fellow agents who had disappeared to be “tried”
later in this same underground auditorium. In such cases the accused
were brought on the stage to give their “confessions”; but their broken
bodies and fear stricken tones told plainer than words of secret
torments. Not even the few who were released after trial ever told
exactly what had happened to them.
And now these members of Scorpia’s Inner Council were to see with their
own eyes the fate of two who had defied the Scorpion’s power. Their
cruel natures were as thrilled by the prospect as they were awed by
thought that their own turn might come some day.
Such was the mind of the audience which heard Cho-San’s grim accusation.
With savage eagerness they drank in the Scorpion leader’s every word,
while their eyes gloated over those helpless victims on the wheel and
rack.
With the tread of a great jungle beast, Cho-San approached the
half-conscious Lotus.
Facing the assembly, the Chinese raised his voice.
“This girl, this fickle traitoress,” he cried, “has gone over to the
enemy, body and soul. In a few minutes you will hear her confess her
guilt under mortal pain. But first—”
Cho-San paused dramatically.
“First,” he repeated, “she will listen to the screams of this other
enemy of Scorpia—the man who was once a member of this very Inner
Council—Count André Borg! We shall see what confession another turn of
the ropes will wring from him ... Dr. Skell!”
Into the spotlight moved a tall man garbed in a white laboratory coat.
His bald, skull-like head turned to face Cho-San.
“One turn?” he asked, laying a bony hand upon the rack’s windlass.
The Chinese nodded. Slowly the rack’s wooden crank moved downward,
tightening the ropes. Count Borg’s body stiffened under the frightful
tension. Through his clenched jaws issued a grinding sob of pain.
“Another turn and his bones snap out of their sockets,” came the dry
croak of Dr. Skell. “Shall I go on?”
“No! No!” came Lotus’ frantic cry. “Torture me, Cho-San, but not André!
Anything—_anything but that_!”
“Tear him apart!” snarled the Scorpion leader. “Put your weight on that
windlass, or—”