Street just a few minutes after Miss Gray showed me to a room. I . . . I ran toward Twelfth Street and reached the corner just as the wall fell—right on your car, it seemed. I went on quickly and got the suitcase myself and hid it.”
Benson’s eyes were pallid diamond drills, boring into her own dark orbs. Few could face that stare unless they were telling the truth. Lini’s eyes never wavered.
“A man of mine went on to the hotel you mentioned and was told no one of your description had rented a room recently.”
Lini nodded passively. “The clerks were paid to say that to anyone who asked,” she said. “I told you I had kept my identity a secret there.”
“Then the only reason you stole away from my place last night was because you were afraid I might run into trouble on your errand?” Benson said.
“Yes,” nodded Lini calmly. “That’s the only reason. I can see where it might be suspicious, but it’s the truth.”
“Where is your suitcase now?”
For the first time, a flicker of agitation appeared in Lini’s face. “It’s gone. Stolen!”
“Stolen?”
“Yes. After I had gotten it and was hurrying to put it in another place, I was attacked. A car stopped alongside me, and I was jerked into it and taken away.”
Benson said nothing. But his eyes were like pale fire opals as they dwelt on the girl’s countenance. Lini’s hand went to her forehead, and she rubbed it in a queer, dazed way. “I was taken to my brother,” she said. “I didn’t see my brother, but I was taken to the icy caves of the ancient race. I regained consciousness in the cave after being knocked out. A cave of ice, cold and bare, bright with the white light that has burned all these thousands of years.”
This was beginning to sound like pure gibberish. But Benson was paying as much attention as though the words were pearls of sanity from a great philosopher. “Cave of ice?” he said softly. “Light burning for thousands of years?”
“Yes. That’s where I was taken.”
“But the caves are thousands of miles from here.” Benson spoke in a gentle, almost monotonous tone, and his eyes were compelling on hers. He was trying hypnotism; and The Avenger was probably the best hypnotist alive. “The caves are thousands of miles from here, Miss Waller. How could you be taken that distance in a night and be back here in the morning?”
“I was in the ice-walled cave.” Lini stopped rubbing her forehead in that dazed way, and her manner became calm to the point of indifference again. “I had better go in to see those men now.”
The Avenger had tried to hypnotize her, and had failed! It was the first such failure he had ever had. He let her go back into the conference room, and he stayed in the room where they had been talking. When she came out again, she was going to Bleek Street with him and was going to stay there. Benson sensed some dreadful thing more subtle and sinister than he had ever encountered before—with this girl on the receiving end!
But she didn’t come out of the room. Benson waited for nearly ten minutes. Then, with his pale eyes looking deadly in their cold wrath, he walked into the conference room. The four men were obviously about to leave and go to their own offices. They had finished. And they were alone.
Benson looked around, his face white and still. “Where is Miss Waller?”
“Why, Mr. Benson,” exclaimed Wittwar, after his nervous little throat-clearing that preceded most of his sentences, “we thought you had gone.”
“Where is Miss Waller?”
“She went directly from here.” It was Mallory talking, saturnine, thin and dry-looking. “There’s a private exit to the hall from here. See that panel? Pretty good job of concealing, isn’t it. Miss Waller wanted to leave privately; so we let her go out that way. She is to tell us this afternoon just how to get to the caverns, and will go with our men . . .”
Mallory’s voice dribbled into silence at the look in The
Benson’s eyes were pallid diamond drills, boring into her own dark orbs. Few could face that stare unless they were telling the truth. Lini’s eyes never wavered.
“A man of mine went on to the hotel you mentioned and was told no one of your description had rented a room recently.”
Lini nodded passively. “The clerks were paid to say that to anyone who asked,” she said. “I told you I had kept my identity a secret there.”
“Then the only reason you stole away from my place last night was because you were afraid I might run into trouble on your errand?” Benson said.
“Yes,” nodded Lini calmly. “That’s the only reason. I can see where it might be suspicious, but it’s the truth.”
“Where is your suitcase now?”
For the first time, a flicker of agitation appeared in Lini’s face. “It’s gone. Stolen!”
“Stolen?”
“Yes. After I had gotten it and was hurrying to put it in another place, I was attacked. A car stopped alongside me, and I was jerked into it and taken away.”
Benson said nothing. But his eyes were like pale fire opals as they dwelt on the girl’s countenance. Lini’s hand went to her forehead, and she rubbed it in a queer, dazed way. “I was taken to my brother,” she said. “I didn’t see my brother, but I was taken to the icy caves of the ancient race. I regained consciousness in the cave after being knocked out. A cave of ice, cold and bare, bright with the white light that has burned all these thousands of years.”
This was beginning to sound like pure gibberish. But Benson was paying as much attention as though the words were pearls of sanity from a great philosopher. “Cave of ice?” he said softly. “Light burning for thousands of years?”
“Yes. That’s where I was taken.”
“But the caves are thousands of miles from here.” Benson spoke in a gentle, almost monotonous tone, and his eyes were compelling on hers. He was trying hypnotism; and The Avenger was probably the best hypnotist alive. “The caves are thousands of miles from here, Miss Waller. How could you be taken that distance in a night and be back here in the morning?”
“I was in the ice-walled cave.” Lini stopped rubbing her forehead in that dazed way, and her manner became calm to the point of indifference again. “I had better go in to see those men now.”
The Avenger had tried to hypnotize her, and had failed! It was the first such failure he had ever had. He let her go back into the conference room, and he stayed in the room where they had been talking. When she came out again, she was going to Bleek Street with him and was going to stay there. Benson sensed some dreadful thing more subtle and sinister than he had ever encountered before—with this girl on the receiving end!
But she didn’t come out of the room. Benson waited for nearly ten minutes. Then, with his pale eyes looking deadly in their cold wrath, he walked into the conference room. The four men were obviously about to leave and go to their own offices. They had finished. And they were alone.
Benson looked around, his face white and still. “Where is Miss Waller?”
“Why, Mr. Benson,” exclaimed Wittwar, after his nervous little throat-clearing that preceded most of his sentences, “we thought you had gone.”
“Where is Miss Waller?”
“She went directly from here.” It was Mallory talking, saturnine, thin and dry-looking. “There’s a private exit to the hall from here. See that panel? Pretty good job of concealing, isn’t it. Miss Waller wanted to leave privately; so we let her go out that way. She is to tell us this afternoon just how to get to the caverns, and will go with our men . . .”
Mallory’s voice dribbled into silence at the look in The
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