Together they walked toward the entrance and, with an order to wait, the
emissary halted Flint close to a pile of crates and left him. Flint
dared not move. A premonition of impending disaster must have come over
him, for his knees shook and a clammy sweat broke out on his forehead.
Without sound a gigantic iron hand and arm protruded from behind a crate
and, for a moment, hung suspended over Flint's head. Then, with a swift
encircling movement, that hooklike arm wrapped itself around Flint's
neck and drew him into the shadow. The mighty form drew the victim
close--and it was over.
The Automaton picked up the body as though it had been a mere
feather-weight and stalked out to the waiting emissaries. A trap-door
was opened and Flint's body was dashed into the river. Thus it was that
all his scheming came to an end and his secret from Madagascar, which he
had told Brent, but which now lay locked in that mad-man's mind, was
stilled with Flint's dead lips.
At the chemist's shop Locke was by this time recovering from the
terrible ordeal through which he had passed. He bathed his swollen
thumbs, and by rubbing them was able somewhat to restore the
circulation.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97