The Wheel of Death/Chapter 14

It was only for a few seconds that Richard Wentworth stood inactive within that quiet, harmless-appearing study. But in that brief flash of time his mind assembled the known facts, drew deductions therefrom and arrived at a conclusion as to the best course of action.

Without doubt there was some secret exit from Mortimer Mack's study— and that exit almost certainly opened into the automatic elevator. Probably some section of the bookcase was hinged secretly to swing out.

To find that contrivance, however, would take time even for a man like Richard Wentworth. But he could find the elevator, or at least the elevator shaft, without any delay. And he could smash open the elevator door, in the fantastic room of the twelve red fires— perhaps in time to intercept the slow-moving elevator as it bore Nita downward to the unknown apartment below Mortimer Mack's gorgeous duplex establishment.

Only a few seconds had elapsed since Nita had been dragged into the study, and he felt certain that he could reach the elevator shaft before the creeping car could have gone by.

Out into the passageway Wentworth darted and through the side entrance into the ballroom. He skirted the big dancing floor so rapidly that he brought exclamations of disapproval from some of the guests with whom he collided.

But Wentworth's rush came to a sudden stop as he entered the reception room where the red fires blazed fitfully and the startling female attendants postured. The elevator door was open and two guests, a man and a woman, were entering, evidently with the intention of going home.

Certainly there had been no time for the elevator to descend and rise again since Nita had been captured. It would seem as though she must be separated from Wentworth only by the mirror- covered wall, her captor waiting, no doubt, to secure the service of the elevator when it was not being used by any of the guests.

Such being the case, Wentworth decided to take possession of the elevator at once and to maintain possession until he had mastered all its secrets. He pushed rapidly into the elevator behind the two guests who were ahead of him.

The door closed, and the car began to descend as Wentworth pressed the first button of the control. His two companions, waiting for the elevator to reach the first floor of the duplex establishment, whispered a few words about the weather while they thought of other things.

Wentworth only thought about getting rid of both of them, so that he could use the elevator for his own purposes.

The car came to a stop, and the door opened. Naturally Wentworth stood back to allow the lady and her escort to pass out. Immediately that they had done so, he quickly closed the door again and remained within the car. He pressed neither of the visible buttons which controlled the car, nor did he move the secret panel to press the button which would return the car once more to the level of the gambling salon. Somewhere he believed, behind the mirrors of the entrance room on that floor, there must be a secret entrance to the elevator. Another side of the car must be cleverly contrived to open upon a hidden exit from the study.

He felt certain that there must be a concealed master control of the elevator, by means of which it could be secretly operated in defiance of any calls which might be made upon it by the pressing of the usual, exposed buttons. He believed that such a call would presently be made upon it, for the purpose of carrying Nita three stories down to the apartment where he had stumbled upon Grogan and Cora.

He waited while one of his hands felt the deadly air pistol in the tail pocket of his coat. This time he would go into action in all probability, and it would be his life or another's.

Suddenly the car gave a lurch and commenced to ascend. Somebody had summoned it from above. It might be a guest, or it might be one of the underworld who were helping Mortimer Mack in his amazing attempt to subjugate the great city of New York. If it were a guest, Wentworth could do little more than descend again and wait for another call upon the car. If, however, the front door of the elevator did not open, and if a false side of it fell away to expose the study entrance! Wentworth felt the weapon in his pocket and waited.

The car had scarcely ascended one story when Wentworth, his mind always active, realized that there might be some cunning way by means of which his enemies could see into the car and become aware of his presence before entering it. Above his head there was a single electric light bulb. He was tall enough to reach it easily, and he unscrewed it until the connection was broken. The elevator was plunged into complete darkness.

The car continued to ascend slowly, as is the nature of automatic elevators, while Wentworth kept his hand upon the electric light bulb. If the usual front door opened, he would give the bulb a twist, thus illuminating the car for any guests who might enter. If, however, the front door did not open, and if another side of the elevator moved, then there might be light or no light, life or no life. Wentworth was grimly determined.

In due course the elevator came to a stop after an interval which was sufficient to allow it to reach the floor of the gambling salon. Very faintly Wentworth could hear the barbaric music from the ballroom and, still more faintly, he heard voices, probably the voices of guests. Nothing happened. For a moment he stood perfectly motionless, his hand upon the cooling bulb above his head.

Then, abruptly, there was a slight click. In the dark he could see nothing— but a side of the elevator touched him. It was moving inward, swinging upon hinges so well oiled that there was no sound. As the moving partition touched him, Wentworth crouched swiftly in a far corner of the elevator. His deadly pistol was now out of his pocket and ready for instant action.

In the darkness Wentworth heard a heavy step and felt its impact upon the floor of the elevator. There was a smothered, feminine protest, and he recognized Nita's voice. Still he waited, crouching low. He heard a muttered comment in a man's angry, unpleasant voice.

Above his head then he heard the slight sound of the electric light bulb being touched, and knew that the man had found it loose and was screwing it tight again. In one more second he would be in conflict.

Blindingly, after the intense darkness, the elevator became illuminated as the bulb once more made contact. Above him Wentworth saw a man who held Nita firmly by one arm as he gave the bulb a last tightening turn. Nita, gagged, but otherwise free except for the man's restraining arm, had her back to Wentworth and stood between him and her captor.

Over her shoulder the man, evidently a character of the underworld, looked straight down at Wentworth who still crouched, pistol in hand, in the corner.

The man was startled, but he was quick and he was vicious. His hand dropped from the electric light bulb like a flash and rose instantly from a breast pocket with a knife, an ugly weapon with a shining, queerly pointed blade. The point of that knife hovered half an inch from Nita's throat!

Nita, startled, tried still harder to draw away from the man, but his powerful arm pressed her tightly against him. Shielded by her, the man kept his head as much as possible behind her head and watched Wentworth warily with only one eye.

"Damn you!" he exclaimed furiously. "Drop that gun, or I'll slit her throat!"

It was the most difficult shot that Wentworth had ever been called upon to make. The target was that single, evil eye. If he missed it on one side, the man would probably plunge his knife into Nita's throat. If he missed it on the other side, he would probably send his bullet through Nita's head.

Nita, although she could not see, seemed to grasp the situation at once. With her free hand she managed to tug the gag partly away from her mouth.

"Shoot, Dick!" she exclaimed. "You can do it."

It was like her heroic self to urge him, and it was like her to know that it could only be he who had come to her rescue. Probably he would have fired if she had not spoken. As it was, he pressed the trigger on the sound of her last word, and— he did not miss.

The dangerous shot went straight to the target, and the peering eye went out, never to see again. Nor would its mate ever again behold anything more in this world. The man who hid behind a woman and pressed a knife against her throat was dead.

Even as the man slumped upon the floor of the elevator, and his knife clattered beside him, Wentworth caught Nita and spun her around, pressing her close to him. He removed the gag and pressed her lips where it had been.

"My dear!" he exclaimed. "Can you ever forgive me for letting this happen to you?"

Her answer was silence and willingness to remain in his arms. There is no better answer that a man may have from a woman.

But their respite from action was brief. "Don't look down," he said as he guided her around the dead man on the floor of the elevator and into what appeared to be a large steel box which had been exposed by the opening of the elevator's false side. And he realized then that they stood within the steel safe in the study! It was not a safe after all, but only a masked entrance to the elevator!

She stood behind him while he went to work. First there was the door of the steel box, which so resembled a safe when viewed from the study, to be examined. It took but a glance to show that it could be opened very simply by throwing over a bolt on the inside, although, no doubt, it required the use of the combination to open it from the study side.

Next there was the matter of the secret control of the elevator, and this he found exposed upon the outside of the false side which had opened and which still remained open. Here there was another control box, a master control box. Upon it were two buttons, one of which would send the car to the secret apartment three stories below. This button was already pushed in and the car would, no doubt, begin its descent upon the closing of the false door.

Lastly there was the matter of the dead man in the elevator. Who he was, Wentworth did not know, but he felt quite confident that he was connected with Mortimer Mack and with Dan Grogan in their gigantic plot to entrap New York City. Leaving Nita in the steel box, Wentworth bent over the dead man. He found nothing of interest in the pockets, but drew a heavy pistol from the dead man's hip pocket— where it had been too low for him to seize quickly enough when unexpectedly confronted by Wentworth in the elevator.

Reluctantly, but without hesitation, Wentworth pocketed the heavy pistol and placed his own air pistol in the dead man's hand, carefully wiping it free from all finger prints. The air pistol, confidentially made for him by his old friend, was not registered with the police and could not be traced to him. But it might prove awkward if found upon his person while he was still in the vicinity of a man who had died from one of its bullets.

There was one more thing, a reckless thing perhaps, but one that fitted into the nature of the man who ran so many risks and who witted himself against such terrific odds. From the lithe pocket of his tight-fitting white vest he took a cigarette lighter. It was not the same lighter that he had used when he had placed the seal of the Spider upon the foreheads of the gunmen at Grogan's Restaurant, though in outward appearance it was quite similar.

As he broke the varnished junction and extracted the notorious seal, which was contained in the secret cavity, he wondered if he would ever have to use the subtle invention which his old friend. the professor, wrought into it. He little knew how soon that test would come.

Deftly and with the laboratory precision of a scientist, he stamped the vermilion outline of the little spider upon the cheek of the dead man, just under the place which had once been an eye. The door of the elevator rattled as he did so. Some guest was becoming impatient for the arrival of the car, but the secret, master control held the front door locked until the false side had been closed and the car sent upon its special bidding, three stories below.

All this had required but a few seconds, so quickly and with such assurance did Wentworth work. Nita, in the great steel box, saw Wentworth return the cigarette lighter to his pocket as he joined her.

She knew the secret of the little lighter and often lay awake at night thinking about it.

"Was it wise to leave the mark this time?" she whispered, shuddering slightly. She had plenty of courage, but after all she was a woman, and a woman should not have too much nerve.

He laughed gently and threw an arm around her as he used his free hand to pull the false elevator door closed behind him. It was very dark in the big steel box when the light from the elevator was cut off by the closing of the door. Faintly they heard the elevator start into motion automatically upon the closing of that door.

Richard Wentworth continued his low laugh out of pure joy. A dead man behind him meant nothing. Nita was safe again, and he was in the middle of a great adventure. He was holding her now with both arms. Death had passed them by, and love had come. Those were the two great adventures for him, love and death.

"Dick!" she protested impishly. "Don't you think we could find a more appropriate place?"

"Right!" he returned, releasing her. "Let us first proceed to the further taking apart of Mortimer Mack."