She faltered, said hesitantly: “I know you won’t believe me when I tell you that I was compelled to do everything I did for Doctor Blood — compelled by the most devilish means!”
The Agent placed a hand on her shoulder, said gently: “I think I know by what means you were forced to do his bidding.”
She raised her eyes, startled. “You know—”
“Yes. Let me see if I am right.” He had been studying her face carefully, comparing its contours and general conformation with that of another face the picture of which he carried in his mind’s eye. Now he went on: “I can see the resemblance. It is undeniable. Laurento is your brother. Doctor Blood got him in his power, did something to him that you talk about to make him lust for blood. Your brother’s resistance was feeble; not mentally sound. He was confined in a sanitarium back in Paraguay for a while, was he not?”
Her eyes opened wide, her mouth fell slack. “How — how did you know?”
“If, as you believe, I am Secret Agent ‘X’ you must not be surprised that I should know things. But let’s go on. When you learned that Laurento was in Doctor Blood’s power, you appealed to this Doctor Blood to leave him alone. And Doctor Blood compelled you to serve him as the price of your brother’s freedom. But he did not keep faith with you. He made your brother kill Patterson, anyway.”
“That’s right,” she breathed. “I got my fiancé, Hugo Langknecht, to assist me when I discovered that Doctor Blood did not intend to keep faith with me. Some detective named Fearson discovered where Laurento was hidden, and somehow discovered that Hugo was interested. He went to Hugo’s house, and I followed him there. We caught the detective and put him in a closet, and, as we were about to leave, Wilkerson and some of Doctor Blood’s men raided the place and killed poor Hugo. I did not tell them about the detective hidden in the closet. They took me away, forced me to tell where Laurento was hidden. Doctor Blood must have guessed that you were Secret Agent ‘X,’ for he set a trap to catch you. But the trap failed.”
The Agent put both hands on her shoulders, swung her about so that the lamp from the table cast a light upon her face. Then he demanded of her sharply: “Who is Doctor Blood? Is he Oscar Stanton?”
She shivered. “No, no! It couldn’t be Oscar. Oscar has been hoping to marry me, even though I told him I was engaged to Hugo. But Oscar isn’t the kind of man who could be so ruthless. He would never have had Hugo killed that way, even if they were rivals.”
“Who, then, is Doctor Blood?”
She wilted, and her face paled. “I — don’t — know! I have never seen his face.”
“What did he do to these people — to Wilkerson, to your brother, to the others — to make them into wild beasts?”
“I don’t know that — either. Most of the men that he has in his power are like Wilkerson and Laurento — mentally deranged. They are the ones who killed Prescott and Forman and the others. Somehow or other he has managed to gather around him a number of madmen, who do his bidding without question.”
“All right,” said the Agent “Now tell me what you have come here for.”
“I want your help!” she exclaimed passionately. “Doctor Blood has Laurento here in this jail We are all his prisoners. I will help you to escape, if you will promise me to save Laurento — to take Laurento and me out of here with you. You are a man for whom nothing is impossible. You must help me in this. I do not ask you to save Laurento from the law. Let him be tried for his crime. They will not send him to the electric chair, for he is insane. But at least he will be confined in an asylum where he will be treated as a patient, instead of remaining under the dominion of this fiend who is known as Doctor Blood. Quick, is it a bargain? I will help you, if you will help me in this way.”
“I promise you,” said Secret Agent “X” slowly, “that if I leave this place alive, I will not leave without you and Laurento.”
A smile almost of happiness suffused her face. “Thank God!” She dipped into her dress, extracted from the bodice a revolver which she handed to the Agent. “Here. It’s loaded. The door is open. There are half a dozen men in the building. But I know you can win.”
“I’m afraid,” the Agent told her, “that it is too late. We have been seen!”
He was right. For the small aperture in the opposite wall had slid open, and a pair of dark eyes had looked through for a moment — a moment only, and then the aperture had been shut. Doctor Blood knew that Lola Lollagi was attempting to save Mr. Randall; and he must also guess that Victor Randall was none other than Secret Agent “X”!
Chapter XVII
THE Agent acted now without a single lost motion. He dropped the handcuff key in his pocket; there was no further use for it. The time for guile and trickery had passed. Nothing counted now but action. He stooped, retrieved his other gun from under his trouser leg, then snapped at Lola Lollagi: “Get over against the wall. I’m going to open that door and shoot my way out.”
Lola sprang to one side, flattened herself against the wall. “Remember,” she breathed, “you promised to save Laurento!”
“X” nodded grimly. He kicked open the door, sprang out into the corridor, a gun in each hand. Down the end of the hall he saw Wilkerson and Mace, running toward him. Wilkerson was waving his horrid claw, and shouting: “That’s the man. That’s Secret Agent ‘X.’ Get him, Mace!”
Behind them came four or five other men, still in policemen’s uniform, armed with revolvers and submachine guns.
Mace stopped short upon seeing the Agent, dropped to one knee, and raised the Tommy-gun to his shoulder.
Secret Agent “X” faced them squarely in the narrow corridor, his feet planted wide apart, the two guns at his hips. His face was a calm, gray mask as he pressed the triggers on his two guns, sent lead rocketing down the corridor toward Mace and the others. He was a cool, efficient fighting machine, and each shot that he fired counted.
The attackers were taut, excited, awed by the thought that they were in conflict with the man whose name had became a legend in the underworld — Secret Agent “X.” The Agent’s slugs screamed from his guns before any of them could get into action with the tommies. Smoke filled the corridor, and the reverberations of the Agent’s methodically exploding guns rocked the narrow hallway. Not a single shot answered him. He had fired too fast and too straight.
When the smoke cleared, it revealed the Agent, still standing, the guns still at his side, ready for more. But at the other end of the corridor men writhed upon the floor, helpless, groaning. Mace had been shot in the right shoulder. Wilkerson squirmed on the floor beside him with a bullet in his side. No single man of the attackers was left standing on his feet. The Agent, in spite of the imminent danger which had threatened, had not shot to kill; but each of his slugs had been directed at some spot that would disable his attacker.
He called out over his shoulder: “Come on, Lola.” Then he advanced down the hall, watchful, wary.
The woman came out of the room, followed him at a short distance. Her startled eyes took in the wounded, writhing men. Her eyes sought the back of Secret Agent “X” and lit up with wonder. She could hardly understand how one man had been able to overcome so many opponents armed as these had been.