He took from his kit a small chisel and a small, collapsible iron bar about a half inch in thickness. This bar was hollow within and contained other sections so that it could be elongated in the same fashion as a collapsible drinking cup. The Agent opened this to its full length of ten inches, and attached to the top a small hammer-head. He now had a complete hammer and chisel. He set to work upon the door. But he made little impression upon it. The solid oak resisted his efforts.
“X” did not give up. He moved around to the wall, tapped upon it at various spots until he heard the hollow sound which indicated that there was no beam here. He had seen the open door of the laboratory in the next room, and his hope was to break through the wall into the laboratory.
He set to work upon the wall with his hammer and chisel. The plaster gave easily before his onslaught. He stopped every once in a while, wondering why the noise he made had not attracted anyone. If the professor and Lola had already gone, they might have left the man, Hans, on guard. Hans must surely have heard the sound of the blows upon the wall. He might even be waiting at the other side to trap the prisoner as he was coming through. But “X” continued with his work. If Hans were waiting on the other side, that problem would have to be faced when he had broken through the wall.
Chapter IX
IT required an hour and a half of patient, backbreaking work there in the little room with the meagre illumination furnished by the fountain pen flashlight before the Agent had succeeded in cutting a hole through the plaster large enough for him to wriggle through. Several times while he had been working, he had thrown the beam of his flashlight into the other room through the slowly widening aperture. It was the laboratory which he had noted from the corridor. But he saw, also, that the door to the laboratory was closed now. Whether it was locked or not remained yet to be seen.
The Agent’s face, coat, trousers and hands were covered with plaster when he finished. He squirmed through the hole in the wall after collecting his tools. With the aid of his flashlight, he crossed quickly to the door, tried it.
The door was locked.
“X” found the electric lightswitch, snapped it on, and set to work upon the door. Once more he heard the tumblers click. He turned the knob, pulled. But the door was apparently fastened on the outside in the same fashion as the door to the closet which he had been thrust into. It did not give.
The Agent tapped the wall on either side of the door. If he could find a hollow spot here, he might be able to work through into the corridor. In the closet next door he had not been able to do this, as the whole closet was hardly more than the width of the door, with very little wall to spare on either side. Here, however, there was three or four feet of wall space. But the beams ran solidly. The wall gave forth no hollow sound. There would be no chance to cut through at any point in the wall to the corridor.
Somberly the Agent turned and surveyed the laboratory. On one wall there was a glass case with the shelves full of bottles of all sizes containing liquids of varied colors.
“X” approached this cabinet, thoughtfully studied the labels on the bottles. A smile appeared on his face.
He picked out several of the bottles, one after the other, and brought them to the work bench. Here he found a test tube, into which he proceeded to pour certain quantities from each bottle. He handled the chemicals as if he had been accustomed to using them all his life. And indeed, he had. For the solution he was preparing now was in accordance with a chemical formula which he had himself designed. That formula now reposed in the secret files of the War Department of the United States. It was another contribution of the Agent’s to the safety of his country.
When he had finished his task, the Agent sealed the test tube, made a hole in the stopper, and inserted into it a splinter of wood which he cut from the bench. The liquid within the test tube had now assumed a sort of reddish brown hue. He laid it on the floor close to the door, and lit the splinter of wood.
Then he went to the hole which he had cut in the connecting wall, climbed back through it into the closet next door. From here he watched the improvised fuse burning down to the liquid within the test tube. When the fire reached the liquid, there came a blinding flash of light. There was the sound of tearing, splintering wood as the heavy door crashed outward. The entire building shook for a moment. A blinding cloud of smoke enveloped the room.
“X” waited a few moments longer until the smoke had drifted out into the corridor. Then he climbed through the hole and surveyed his handiwork.
The solution which he had placed within that test tube, was as potent as trinitrotoluene. It had torn the heavy door from its moorings, had slitted the wall, and had given the Agent his freedom.
“X” STEPPED over the debris into the corridor. He glanced swiftly from left to right, saw no one. If anyone had been in the house, he or she would certainly have started running at the sound of the splintering door. But everything was silent now.
Swiftly “X” went from room to room in the upper corridor, found them all emptied. He descended to the ground floor. Here it was dark. “X” used his flashlight again, entered the room at the front of the hall. He found the light switch, snapped it on, and stood still in the doorway, studying the thing he had suddenly perceived upon the floor. His face was etched into a grim mask as he approached and knelt beside the body which lay there.
It was Professor Hugo Langknecht. That is, it was what was left of Professor Hugo Langknecht. His white coat shone crimson under the light. He lay stretched out on his back, at full length, dead. His glasses had apparently been knocked off in the struggle which had resulted in his death, for they lay near him, the thick lenses still unshattered by their fall to the floor.
The professor’s throat was a raw, bloody, gaping wound. His jugular vein had been ripped open.
Secret Agent “X” cast a swift glance up and down the corridor, his keen ears listening for the slightest sound. There was no indication that anyone was in the house.
He dropped once more to examine Langknecht’s body. There was no question but that the professor had perished in the same way as Patterson and the other ten victims. His body was drained of blood. He seemed shriveled, shrunken, and the skin of his face appeared plastered to his cheek bones.
On the floor near him there were peculiar streaks — bloody streaks that might have been left by the claws of some monster of prey. All this must have happened while “X” was confined in that closet, while he was working his way out of the laboratory.
“X’s” eyes were bleak as be studied the cadaver of the psychiatrist. The Agent had suspected Langknecht of being the master of those human monsters which were committing the murders. But how to explain this he did not know.
The Agent left the body of Langknecht as it lay, and proceeded cautiously back into the hall. He encountered no one. The house was deserted now.
Outside, “X” surveyed the street, his keen eyes piercing into the shadows on all sides, making sure that the devilish cohorts of Doctor Blood had not remained behind to lay in wait for him as he emerged. The street was empty. He quickly climbed into his coupé.