“Yeah,” Burks agreed. “And Gage kidnaped himself; even gave himself a fake shot of the Amber Death to avoid suspicion. Why, he spent years in China. Knew the ropes.” Burks paused. “Say, for a reporter you know a—”
He was interrupted by a faint click. The room was plunged into complete darkness.
“Who turned out those lights!” Burks wheeled around and stood motionless, staring into the darkness. On the wall, directly in front of him, was a steady glow of weird light — a letter “X” drawn in phosphorescent paint on the wall.
Burks’ flashlight cut through the darkness and wheeled from one startled face to another. With an oath, he was gone, racing up the passage through which they had come. He burst into what had been China Bobby’s office. His eyes were fairly popping from his head as he looked about the room where the police were busily at work.
“Where’s that redheaded guy? Miss Dale, who was that reporter who came with you?”
Betty stared innocently at the inspector. “Why, that was Jim Collins of the Herald.”
“Collins, my eye! That was Secret Agent ‘X.’ And this time, I’ve got him. He couldn’t get through here without some of my boys seeing him!” And Burks bounded toward the door that led back through the opium den.
But he might have saved his energy. For the redheaded reporter had availed himself of the emergency-exit prepared by the Ghoul. He had hurried in the opposite direction from that taken by Burks and was, at that moment, driving somewhat recklessly down the narrow streets of Chinatown in the Ghoul’s own car.