THE Agent stepped across the bodies, and Lola followed him. They were in the anteroom now, which led out into the street. The guard was not there. Apparently he had been one of the attackers in the corridor.
The woman exclaimed: “Those shots must have been heard. The police will be here. How will you get Laurento away?”
“No fear of those shots having been heard,” the Agent told her. “The walls of this jail are entirely sound-proof. A man standing just outside wouldn’t have heard a thing.”
He examined his two guns. Lola’s was empty, and he discarded it. The other still had a single bullet left. “Wait here,” he said. “I am going to find Doctor Blood. If you hear anyone coming, run out into the alley and wait there.”
He left her before she could protest, went through a small door at the right and found himself at the foot of an iron staircase which led up to the first tier of cells. From above there came to him the sound of a mad jabbering, of wild voices. Then they suddenly ceased, as another voice, cold, curt, spoke suddenly. The Agent could not understand the words, but he could tell that they came from up above in the cell tier.
Quickly, noiselessly, the Agent mounted the iron staircase. All was dark here. The cells ranged along both walls, leaving a wide cement corridor between. Faces peered at him from behind the iron doors of these cells. Strange voices shrieked at him. These were the madmen whom Lola Lollagi had mentioned. Doctor Blood kept them in cells until he was ready for them to do his evil work.
Slowly, cautiously, the Agent advanced between the two tiers of grilled doors, flashing his light into each in turn. He knew that Doctor Blood was up here, for he was sure that it was he whose voice had spoken just a moment before. Was Blood hiding in one of those cells, waiting to ambush him as he came along, or had he retreated before the advance of Secret Agent “X”?
Four cells the Agent passed, and in each he saw a mad face peering out at him. Four cells on the right, four cells on the left. Eight of these madmen, there were, and each was brandishing a claw through the bars of his door. These claws, the Agent could see now, were of metal, made like a gauntlet which could be slipped over the hand. It was with these that they ripped men’s throats.
The fourth cell on the left held Laurento. “X” recognized him at once. The youth was strangely silent, his face drawn and haggard. He said nothing, did not shout or jibber like the others. “X” passed him by, peered into the next cell.
At first he could see no one in there. Then he lowered his light, and noticed the figure of a man cowering in a corner. It was Larkin. His face was white with fear, his entire body was trembling.
“God, take me out of here,” he cried. “Take me away from these madmen! Let me go. I’ll pay anything!”
“X” maintained silence, passed on and looked in the other cells. He saw Sturgis in the next, was about to look beyond when his eye caught the slightest hint of motion from farther down in the hall.
One of the cell doors at the end was opening silently, stealthily. The Agent dropped flat to the floor, his gun extended in front of him. His keen eyes noted the muzzle of a submachine gun poking out through the bars of the half-open cell door, detected a shadowy shape behind. Slowly that gun was swinging around in his direction.
“X” sighted carefully for a spot just above and a little to the right of the muzzle of the machine gun, and fired once. A horrible shriek answered his shot, and the sub-machine gun clattered to the stone floor. The shadow behind it resolved itself into a human body that toppled forward, crashed into the iron door, and lay still on the floor.
The Agent sprang to his feet, ran forward. He stopped when he approached the still figure on the floor, directed his flashlight downward. His lips set in a grim line as he saw the face of the man he had killed — the face of Doctor Blood.
SLOWLY he turned away, retraced his steps. As he passed Sturgis’ cell the mayor gripped the iron bars of the door, shouted hoarsely into the darkness: “Who are you? Where is Doctor Blood? Let us out of here!”
“X” made no answer. He continued on until he had reached the cell where Laurento was confined. That young man stood still, white-faced, his eyes wide with consternation under the beam of light which the Agent flashed at him. There was no madness in the young man’s eyes any longer — only a terrible misery. Apparently whatever it was that Doctor Blood had administered to Laurento had worn off, leaving him without that ghastly blood-lust which had made a ruthless animal of him.
“X” fitted one of his pass-keys to the cell door, swung it open. Laurento backed away, suddenly shouting: “Leave me alone! Don’t feed me any more of that stuff!” His voice was thin, cracked. It aroused the other mad inmates of the neighboring cells, and the jabbering and screaming, which had ceased when the Agent fired, began once more, filled the whole tier with a wild cacophony.
“X” put out a hand to Laurento, said: “Come with me. I will not harm you.”
But his voice was drowned by the shouting. Laurento feared him, probably thought he was Doctor Blood, or one of Blood’s men. He had a grip on his taloned gauntlet, and he swung out at “X” with it, attempting to keep him at arm’s length.
The Agent warded the blow, stepped in under it, and drove in a short blow to the other’s chin. Laurento crumpled up, slid to the floor. In his weakened physical and mental condition that light blow had been enough to down him.
“X” now stooped, swung him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the cell. All the way downstairs he was followed by the mad ravings of the demented men in the other cells, by the shouts of Larkin and the others to be taken out of there.
Down in the waiting room he found Lola Lollagi sitting in a corner, her nervous fingers tearing at a handkerchief. When she saw “X” and his burden she sprang up with a glad cry and ran toward them.
“X” placed the young man in a chair. Laurento was recovering his senses. He opened his eyes, saw “X,” and started up. But Lola put a hand on his shoulder, cried entreatingly:
“Laurento, brother darling! It’s Lola! Your sister!”
For a moment his eyes were wild, terrified. Then they focused upon Lola, seemed to recognize her. Then he broke down. He rested his head in his hands, wept like a child.
Lola stroked his hair, glanced entreatingly at the Agent. Tremblingly her lips formed words. “What — what are you going to do with him? You promised me—”
“X” was watching the brother and sister with deep understanding.
Laurento cried out between his sobs: “Lola, Lola dear. Take me away from here. Take me away from Doctor Blood!” A spasm of revulsion seemed to be racking his body.
Secret Agent “X” said slowly: “You have nothing further to fear, Laurento. Doctor Blood is dead!”
Lola started, stared at him. “You — you know who he is? You have — seen his face?”
The Agent nodded. “I have seen his face. I know who he is.” He raised a hand before she could ask the next question. “Never mind about that now. I promised you that you could take Laurento out of here. Now you must promise me two things, first.”
“Yes, yes,” she exclaimed eagerly. “I will promise anything you ask.”
“First, you must give me your word that you will take Laurento directly from here to an asylum, the address of which I will give you. He will be well taken care of there, and if it is possible, he will be cured. After that he must agree to stand trial for his crime.” The Agent scribbled an address on a slip of paper which he handed to her.
“I will do that,” she whispered. “I am sure that Laurento will not be sent to jail.”
“The second thing you must promise,” the Agent said, “is that you will never mention what has happened here tonight. To you and to the world, I am Mr. Randall, and nobody else. Do you understand?”