A few minutes later, “X” stopped his car a short distance behind the parked machine of Anthony Bernard. A glimpse of his face in the rear-vision mirror told “X” that his disguise was perfect. Bernard would never know that the man who was following him to his apartment was the same Elisha Pond who had experienced the Ghoul’s raid that night.
Hurrying up the walk that approached the apartment building, “X” just managed to enter the same elevator with Bernard. The latter was obviously worried. His glance hurried around the walls of the ascending cage as though hunting for some avenue of escape in case the Ghoul put in another miraculous appearance.
At the sixth floor, Bernard got out and “X” followed him closely. The Agent, aware that the Ghoul struck at the most surprising times, dared not let the millionaire out of his sight for a moment, even though his movements should arouse Bernard’s suspicion.
It was not until Bernard was in the act of fitting his key into the lock of the door, that he seemed to notice “X.” He turned quickly, frightened eyes searching the Agent’s face. But “X” was not watching Bernard. His eyes were riveted on the brass doorknob of the apartment. Dull antique finish as was the knob there was a tiny spot of reflected light that gleamed like the eye of a snake at its very center. As Bernard started to reach for the knob, “X” sprang forward and knocked Bernard’s arm down to his side.
“Be careful, Mr. Bernard!” the Agent cried. “Danger!”
Startled almost beyond speech, Bernard shrank back against the wall. “Who — who are you?” he muttered feebly.
“That is not important,” replied the Agent. “Simply rest assured that I have your interests at heart.” Standing to one side, “X” took hold of the doorknob between thumb and forefinger. He turned it slowly, his eye on the tiny hole that centered the knob. As the lock clicked, a needle stabbed halfway out of the knob, and discharged a stream of clear, yellow liquid on the floor.
“Good Lord!” Bernard husked. “Poison! It would have been injected into the palm of my hand!”
“X” knelt, touched a drop of the liquid with hisfinger, and conveyed it to his nose. He sniffed cautiously.
“Not poison,” he corrected slowly. “The Amber Death. Some one in the Ghoul’s crowd substituted this trick doorknob for the one that was originally on here. Now, Mr. Bernard, I think you are comparatively safe.” The Agent stood up, flung open the door, and followed Bernard into the room. He locked the door from the inside.
“Are you a detective?” asked Bernard.
“X” smiled. “You can regard me as something of the sort.”
Bernard dropped into a chair, for his legs seemed too shaky to support him. “The second attempt on my life tonight. Gage, Luigi and Calvert — all fell into the hands of the Ghoul.”
“X” REGARDED Bernard critically for a moment. Then he went into the bathroom to return with a glass containing some colorless liquid. “Drink this, Mr. Bernard,” he ordered.
Bernard seized the glass and drank half its contents. Almost at once, a marked change came over his face. His eyes, once wide with terror, began to look drowsy. He tried to stand up. “You — you tried to poison me! I–I—” And he collapsed, unconscious.
The Agent was certain that the Ghoul’s next move would be to send somebody for Bernard, who by this time would have been under the influence of the Amber Death had not “X” acted quickly. Such had been the Ghoul’s method of procedure in the case of Gilbert Warnow, and others.
“X” picked up Bernard bodily, carried the unconscious millionaire into the bedroom, and stretched him out on the bed. Then, having made sure that the blinds were drawn, he began working on Bernard’s face. From his pocket make-up kit, he took yellow pigment and plastic volatile material. He made no actual changes in Bernard’s features, but with his plastic material he built up muscles and added lines so as to achieve the appearance that Bernard was in great pain. Then with the yellow pigment he carefully colored Bernard’s face and hands.
The result was that Bernard looked for all the world like a victim of the Ghoul’s Amber Death.
“X” turned out all but a single lamp and walked quietly from the apartment.
Having located the stairway, “X” climbed to the top floor of the building and from there into the attic. There he found a ladder reaching up to a trapdoor in the roof. It was on the roof that he took up his vigil.
It was nearly midnight. Far below, the late traffic was hushed beneath a blanket of fog. And above, night and the mist had created a dismal gray void. Neighboring buildings were tall, uncertain shadows. The breeze, “X” noted, blew seaward. It was from the west, then, that he could expect the danger. For Secret Agent “X” was probably the only man in the city who understood how the Ghoul and his gang managed their mysterious entrances and exits.
“X” hid himself behind a fan-tailed ventilator and for perhaps fifteen minutes remained perfectly motionless. Then without a sound, a man dropped, apparently from the clouds, to land lightly on the flat roof of the building. Though “X” could not see very clearly through the gloom, he knew that a rope extended from the man up to a balloon.
This balloon, “X” had deduced, was what had become known in the world of sports as a jumping-balloon. They had been introduced in Europe some time ago, were considerably smaller than an observation balloon, and were so inflated as to exert slightly less pounds lift than the weight of the persons who intended to travel with them. The balloon-jumper, hanging beneath the bag, had only to jump into the air and the buoyancy afforded by the balloon converted the jump into a gigantic stride that sometimes carried the balloonist a hundred feet in the air.
It was by means of these small balloons that the Ghoul’s men had entered Warnow’s bedroom, and the conservatory of Gage’s house. The true purpose of these balloons, which had been moored throughout the city, was concealed by the fact that each balloon carried some sort of advertising matter.
“X” had guessed from the first that the bags of shot dropped by the Ghoul’s balloon jumpers acted as ballast and were dropped whenever it became necessary for the balloon to gain additional lift. He could see similar ballast bags tied to the belt of the man who had just alighted on the roof. Probably, the man had leaped from the roof of a neighboring building.
“X” watched the balloon-jumper fasten the mooring rope of the balloon to the edge of the eaves, saw him drop a coil of rope over the edge of the roof, and commence his descent. As soon as the man’s head had disappeared, “X” hurried over to where the balloon was moored. He saw that a special mooring clasp had been provided — one which resisted the upward pull of the balloon but one which could be released by the slightest horizontal pull on the line which had been dropped over the eaves. The operator had only to stand on the window sill, give his line a quick, outward jerk, and the balloon would be released. A powerful jump, and the man could soar high into the air and possibly cover the distance of a block or so to alight on some neighboring roof.
“X” took a knife from his pocket and quickly sawed through the mooring rope. The line snapped and leaped into the air to disappear in the gray dome above. Then, having made sure that the line over the eaves was made fast, “X” began a hand over hand descent towards the window of Anthony Bernard’s apartment four stories below.
HE had climbed down perhaps fifteen feet when he felt a sudden jerk at the line. Looking up, he saw the round silhouette of a man’s head leaning gargoyle-like over the eaves. A powerful beam of light drilled down through the darkness, and centered upon the upturned face of Agent “X.” A harsh laugh from the man on the roof.