tear loose and get away. She kicked him in the shin and clawed at his face.
“Hey! Cut that out!” Cole said.
He could talk if he breathed out with the words through his mouth, and then breathed in again through the chemical filters in his nostrils. This would keep him from inhaling any of whatever gas it was the girl had released.
But the girl couldn’t talk at all, through her older-type mask. She could certainly scrap, though. And she did, till finally her lithe body went limp. She had fainted.
That is, it seemed as if she’d fainted. But it might be an act. Cole held her very tightly as he carried her toward the door.
“Shall we take her to the house and see what she has to say for herself?” he asked The Avenger, breathing out with the words.
Benson’s head with its thick, jet-black cap of hair, nodded affirmatively. They went into the covered passage from laboratory to house, Cole still carrying the girl.
This passage was little more than an outside hallway. It was cement-floored, brick-walled. A couple of windows gave light, and, overhead, a couple of bulbs would provide illumination at night. It was soundly built but was only a shell, a covered runway, allowing a person to walk between the two buildings in any kind of weather without being exposed to the elements.
There was no one in the runway when they stepped from the laboratory. It certainly looked innocent enough. But an instant later it did not look at all harmless.
They’d about reached the center of the thirty-foot expanse when there was a bang behind them. The laboratory door had thudded shut.
They’d left this heavy portal open when they came out. It had no spring hinge of any kind. There seemed to be nothing to shut it automatically. Yet, it had shut, after standing open for perhaps ten seconds.
Both The Avenger and Cole had turned in surprise at the sound of its closing. Now, they turned back and found the other end of the covered passage barred. But not only by a door.
Four men had come soundlessly from the house while the backs of the two were turned. They stood there, now, with submachine guns in their hands. The guns were lined with the careless ease of trained hands at the man with the pale, icy eyes and at the dark-haired man with the girl in his arms.
Cole and The Avenger tensed instinctively for action. Then they relaxed. Behind them was a door automatically shut and locked by some spring or electrical mechanism. In front was the little group of grinning gunmen. At the sides were brick walls with barred windows.
“Yeah,” nodded one of the men, reading the helplessness in Cole Wilson’s eyes. “Be smart and don’t try anything. You’re hooked, all right. Boy, with these two, we do have a nice net full of fish!”
CHAPTER VII
Brain Injury
Cole was still holding the girl in his arms. His dark eyes darted to The Avenger’s glacial, masklike face.
The words of the leader of these four men hinted that they’d already captured someone else—that Benson and Cole were but two more prisoners. He wondered who the others were.
He was to find out shortly.
“Follow us into the house,” said the leader of the murderous four. “Don’t come any closer than you are now. Keep your hands over your head—you with the white eyes. I’ve heard of the trick stuff you carry around in your clothes.”
The four backed from the passage into Hannon’s house. The room the passage opened into was a kind of library, very large, rather bare. Cole and The Avenger followed as ordered, keeping the same twelve- or fifteen-foot distance between them.
In the big room, the leader said to Cole, “Put the girl down on that couch.”
Cole lowered the girl to the leather divan. The leader took the gas mask off her face.
On the desk in this room was a picture of a girl. The pictured face was the same as that of the girl on the couch. Even if her familiarity with the tricks of Hannon’s laboratory hadn’t hinted at her identity, this picture
“Hey! Cut that out!” Cole said.
He could talk if he breathed out with the words through his mouth, and then breathed in again through the chemical filters in his nostrils. This would keep him from inhaling any of whatever gas it was the girl had released.
But the girl couldn’t talk at all, through her older-type mask. She could certainly scrap, though. And she did, till finally her lithe body went limp. She had fainted.
That is, it seemed as if she’d fainted. But it might be an act. Cole held her very tightly as he carried her toward the door.
“Shall we take her to the house and see what she has to say for herself?” he asked The Avenger, breathing out with the words.
Benson’s head with its thick, jet-black cap of hair, nodded affirmatively. They went into the covered passage from laboratory to house, Cole still carrying the girl.
This passage was little more than an outside hallway. It was cement-floored, brick-walled. A couple of windows gave light, and, overhead, a couple of bulbs would provide illumination at night. It was soundly built but was only a shell, a covered runway, allowing a person to walk between the two buildings in any kind of weather without being exposed to the elements.
There was no one in the runway when they stepped from the laboratory. It certainly looked innocent enough. But an instant later it did not look at all harmless.
They’d about reached the center of the thirty-foot expanse when there was a bang behind them. The laboratory door had thudded shut.
They’d left this heavy portal open when they came out. It had no spring hinge of any kind. There seemed to be nothing to shut it automatically. Yet, it had shut, after standing open for perhaps ten seconds.
Both The Avenger and Cole had turned in surprise at the sound of its closing. Now, they turned back and found the other end of the covered passage barred. But not only by a door.
Four men had come soundlessly from the house while the backs of the two were turned. They stood there, now, with submachine guns in their hands. The guns were lined with the careless ease of trained hands at the man with the pale, icy eyes and at the dark-haired man with the girl in his arms.
Cole and The Avenger tensed instinctively for action. Then they relaxed. Behind them was a door automatically shut and locked by some spring or electrical mechanism. In front was the little group of grinning gunmen. At the sides were brick walls with barred windows.
“Yeah,” nodded one of the men, reading the helplessness in Cole Wilson’s eyes. “Be smart and don’t try anything. You’re hooked, all right. Boy, with these two, we do have a nice net full of fish!”
CHAPTER VII
Brain Injury
Cole was still holding the girl in his arms. His dark eyes darted to The Avenger’s glacial, masklike face.
The words of the leader of these four men hinted that they’d already captured someone else—that Benson and Cole were but two more prisoners. He wondered who the others were.
He was to find out shortly.
“Follow us into the house,” said the leader of the murderous four. “Don’t come any closer than you are now. Keep your hands over your head—you with the white eyes. I’ve heard of the trick stuff you carry around in your clothes.”
The four backed from the passage into Hannon’s house. The room the passage opened into was a kind of library, very large, rather bare. Cole and The Avenger followed as ordered, keeping the same twelve- or fifteen-foot distance between them.
In the big room, the leader said to Cole, “Put the girl down on that couch.”
Cole lowered the girl to the leather divan. The leader took the gas mask off her face.
On the desk in this room was a picture of a girl. The pictured face was the same as that of the girl on the couch. Even if her familiarity with the tricks of Hannon’s laboratory hadn’t hinted at her identity, this picture
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