THE ENEMY STRIKES
Silent as a shadow, Cole hurried down the hall, which seemed to extend
endlessly in an undeviating direction. Believing it had once been used
as an emergency exit he supposed it would eventually lead into the
open. He had made no plans beyond the immediate present, but it was
his intention to join Doctor Latham as soon as possible and, taking
advantage of the sensation his unexpected appearance would create,
make the most of his opportunity. Beyond doubt the physician was in
desperate danger. The murderous glance Englebreth had thrown over his
shoulder as he left them a few hours ago had left an ominous imprint on
Cole’s mind.
Soon he brought up against an obstruction, apparently a blank stretch
of wall. He fumbled with his hands along the surface expecting to find
a contrivance similar to the one at the other end of the wall. Soon
his fingers encountered the little knob at the bottom which told him
his surmise had been correct. Cautiously he pressed outward and the
obstruction gave. A breath of cool night air fanned his face as he
stepped out.
Hugging close to the wall he looked about him. Evidently he was in the
rear of the house, in a wide recess formed by two projecting wings.
Above him and to the sides were several lighted windows, while ahead
of him was a sloping, rock-strewn stretch of landscape. Carefully
picking his way, he stepped along the nearest wall, all his senses
on the alert against an interruption. He reached the corner, looked
around the edge of the wall, and then drew back. A stalwart individual,
evidently one of Englebreth’s lookouts, was coming toward him.
Cole shrank back against the wall, waited until the man rounded the
corner, then swung out with his right hand and landed a smashing blow
on the fellow’s jaw. Without a sound the sentry dropped to the ground,
and Cole dragged him into the shadows along the wall. It took him but a
few moments to undo the man’s shoe laces and secure his hands and feet.
Next he ripped out the lining from his coat, folded it into a narrow
strip, and firmly applied it as a gag. Last of all he extracted an
automatic from the unconscious man’s hip pocket.
“I’m in luck so far,” he told himself, making certain that the weapon
was loaded before he continued his interrupted progress. He breathed
more easily now, for the possession of a firearm had a soothing effect
on his nerves. He crawled forward along the wall, exercising infinite
care, until he reached a window in the wing. It was dark, and no sound
came from within, signifying that this part of the building was not
used by the gang. He placed his elbow against the pane, pressing firmly
until the glass cracked. Dislodging several of the splinters, he pushed
a hand through the opening and released the catch. In a moment he was
inside and began to pick his way cautiously across the floor. At the
farther side he opened a door, traversed another dark and deserted
room, then still another. Soon he found himself in a hall, and after
a glance up and down its length selected a door at random. The moment
he stepped inside voices reached his ears. Along the side, diagonally
across the floor from where he stood, a narrow streak of light showed
the location of the door.
He tiptoed across the floor, placed his hand on the knob, turned it
carefully, and opened the door an infinitesimal crack. In an instant
he recognized the room. It was the office that had been the scene of
his short-lived triumph the night before. Englebreth was seated at
the desk, occupying the same wheel chair in which he had sat while
witnessing Cole’s abortive ruse. The door before which Cole now stood
was the one that had so abruptly opened while he was on the point of
telephoning Carlin. He was vaguely aware that the scene had changed
since last night, but he had no time to observe details. His attention
was instantly engrossed by the little drama taking place before his
eyes.
On a cot placed along the farther side of the room lay Latham, and,
save for an occasional turn of the head, he lay so still that Cole,
although he could not see distinctly, guessed that he must be strapped
to the cot. Over him, bending slightly, with a wicked smile playing
about his bearded lips, stood Doctor Ballinger, and in his hand was a
small object which Cole could not distinguish. The only other occupants
of the room were Englebreth and two of the stalwart bodyguards who
always seemed to be hovering about him.
“Yes, it was clever, Latham,” the cripple was saying. “You played your
cards just right. Whether you were serious or whether you were bluffing
is beside the point. Your death would have been ill-timed from my point
of view. I don’t think you are afraid to die, Latham. There is one
thing you are afraid of, however.”
He stopped. For several moments the room was very still. Ballinger,
straightening his back, looked meditatively at the object in his hand,
which, as Cole now perceived, was a small bottle.
“That one thing is blindness, Latham,” added the cripple impressively.
“Tell him, Ballinger.”
Ballinger held the vial before the recumbent man’s eyes. “One small
particle of this fluid dropped into each of your eyes will blind you
for life,” he announced. “Not a pleasant thing to contemplate, eh,
Latham?”
Cole started as he saw the diabolical form of persuasion that was being
employed by the conspirators to make Latham reveal what he was supposed
to know. It was a threat far more hideous than death itself. He saw
Latham’s chest heave upward as he strained against the fetters that
held him to the cot.
“What do you say, Latham?” asked the cripple, bending slightly out of
his chair.
“I’ll say that you and Ballinger are a pair of scurvy blackguards,” was
the physician’s retort. “I take solemn oath that I will send each of
you to jail with a black eye.”
Ballinger laughed derisively.
“Still stubborn, I see,” Englebreth remarked. “I am warning you for
the last time, Latham. If you think Cole can come to your rescue, you
are mistaken. Between you and me, that infernal meddler will never
leave Dutchess Point alive. With you it is different. You can make
yourself useful to us, and that is why I am offering you terms. But you
must decide quickly.”
“Go to blazes!” said Latham, but there was a catch in his voice,
scarcely audible even to Cole’s keen ears, which told that his courage
was faltering.
“He thinks we are bluffing, Ballinger,” said Englebreth. “We must
convince him that we are serious. Drop a little of the fluid into his
left eye. The result will prove to him that we mean business.”
A muffled groan came from the man on the cot. Ballinger stepped closer
to the light, uncorked the little vial, cautiously inserted a small
syringe through the neck, his brows contracting as he pumped the
requisite amount of fluid into the glass tube. Now he set the bottle
down, replaced the cork, and with the syringe in his hand turned again
toward the man on the cot. A faint grin hovered about his bearded lips,
but he had taken only a step in the direction of the cot when a sharp
command rang out:
“Stop, Ballinger!”
As he spoke, Cole sprang forward and landed a vigorous blow with
his automatic on the right hand of the guard standing nearest to
Englebreth. A pistol dropped from the man’s limp fingers, and with an
instantaneous movement Cole picked it up.
Ballinger jerked up his head, then stopped dead in his tracks, facing
the cot. The cripple whirled round in his swivel chair, a look of utter
consternation flooding his white face as he saw Cole, standing calmly
a foot away, a leveled automatic in each hand. The second guard leaped
forward, but in a moment Cole had him covered.
“Drop that gun!” he ordered, making an ominous gesture with one of his
pistols. “This instant!”
The man’s jaw sagged, and the weapon dropped from his hand. Englebreth,
sitting hunched and shuddering in his chair, stared at the intruder as
if he were seeing a specter.
“You!” he exclaimed in a thin, rasping voice. “You——”
Cole ignored him. His eyes gleamed like points of polished steel.
“Ballinger,” he said in a very calm voice, “I’d rather put a bullet
through your black heart, but I’m going to give you one chance for your
life. See how quickly you can cut Doctor Latham loose. A little speed
may save your life.”
The syringe fell from Ballinger’s trembling fingers. For a moment he
hesitated, then a knife appeared in his hand, and with surprising speed
he slashed the cords around Latham’s hands and feet. A little dazedly
the physician rose from the cot. There was a dull, smoldering fever in
his eyes as he looked at Ballinger. With startling suddenness his right
hand shot out, landing a vicious blow between Ballinger’s eyes.
“There—I promised you that!” he exclaimed grittily. “And you!”
Again his powerful fist darted out, and a splash of crimson spurted
from the region of Englebreth’s nose. With a sigh of vast content he
looked at Cole.
“How in the world did you——”
“Never mind,” Cole interrupted. “Get Carlin on the telephone.” As the
physician started to obey, his cold, narrowing gaze swept each face in
the room. “I’ll shoot the moment any one moves or makes a sound,” he
declared.
His voice had a ruthless ring, and no one moved. Englebreth, breathing
raspingly, was wiping the blood from his face while he squinted at Cole
in a dazed way.
The physician hung up the receiver and stepped away from the telephone.
“I got Carlin out of bed,” he reported. “He will be here in a little
while, and he will bring enough men with him to surround the place.
These human hyenas will soon be where they belong.” He looked about
him with a satisfied expression. “I hope Carlin won’t treat the speed
regulations too tenderly. I’m hungry as the deuce.”
“So am I,” admitted Cole, a trifle absently. The throbbing and pulsing
of machinery sounded remotely in his ears, a muffled hymn of greed
and gold-maddened dreams, soon to be silenced forever. He shrugged,
and a look of fretful responsibility came into his face. “And there
is Toots,” he went on. “I’ve been neglecting Toots lately. Latham,
I’m going to give you a piece of advice, with the compliments of The
Unknown Seven. Keep shy of cats.”
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes:
• Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
• Text enclosed by pluses is in small caps (+small caps+).
• Text enclosed by equals is in bold (=bold=).
• Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.