"He has discovered my escape, Abdul. He knows that some one has helped me. From some room upstairs he operates his hidden mechanisms. He dropped the curtain of steel. He brought the elevator up again. He released the catches that hold the trap, hoping that one or both of us might fall into some pit below. He has us here, at his mercy. What will he do next?"
"We must wait to see, burra sahib," said the Hindu quietly.
Duncan moved cautiously to the steel curtain. He tapped against it with a key. The click seemed loud in the darkness.
There was an answering sound — a faint echo of the click. Yet it brought a sudden hope to Bruce Duncan.
He stepped closer and tapped three times. Three clicks replied.
Using the International code, Duncan slowly spelled out a single word: "Help."
The reply came: "Who are you?"
"It may be a friend, Abdul," exclaimed Duncan in a low tone. "He wants to know who is here."
"Name Duncan," he replied in code.
"Will help," was the answer.
"Tell him, 'Quick,'" came the voice of Abdul, close by Duncan's ear.
"Quick," tapped Bruce.
The first faint clicks of a reply came from the steel curtain. Then they ceased.
"He's gone," murmured Duncan.
"Perhaps to help us quickly," answered Abdul. "Listen, burra sahib. I have heard a new noise."
Duncan heard it. He had not noticed it while listening to the clicking sound from the steel barrier. But it attracted his attention now. It was a deep, dull thumping — an ominous, thudding sound that seemed to come from the side walls of their prison.
"Look!" exclaimed Abdul.
Duncan's eyes followed the glare of the flashlight to one side wall of the room. Slowly, inch by inch, the wall was moving toward him. Its speed was sluggish, but constant.
"It brings death, burra sahib," said the Hindu.
"We must escape," replied Duncan. "But how?"
"We must wait, sahib. Wait until that one beyond the closed way helps."
"Push the button for the elevator. Maybe the room upstairs is free from gas."
"I cannot reach it, sahib. It is above the trap, which is now made so I shall fall."
"That's one way out," observed Duncan grimly. "Drop through the hole. Better than being crushed to death. But we'll wait to the last second, Abdul."
He tapped vainly against the steel curtain. There was no reply. Had the mysterious friend been trapped, also? Perhaps he had gone for more help. Perhaps it had been Isaac Coffran, tantalizing his victims with vain hope of possible escape.
The Hindu still held the flashlight toward the side wall of the room. The crushing barrier was coming closer — slowly but certainly. There might be twenty minutes now left them. Perhaps only fifteen. Duncan's mind was unable to calculate.
Abdul was leaning against the other side wall of the compartment. Bruce Duncan joined him. Together they watched that ever-approaching instrument of destruction.
Thump — thump — thump—"
"A few minutes more," murmured Duncan. "A few minutes more, and we can only wait. Wait and hope."
This was more terrible than the gas-filled room above. There death had crept upon him almost unknown; here it was announcing its approach.
The young man and his Hindu servant stood silently side by side. Neither spoke. Both stared rigidly before them, calm yet fascinated by that huge moving surface.
Thump — thump — thump — thump—"
The wall was coming closer — closer — closer.
CHAPTER XV. BEYOND THE BARRIER
It was Harry Vincent who had answered Bruce Duncan's plea for help. As he had heard the last clicks of the code, he had realized that the situation must be desperate.
He had found this steel curtain in the darkness. His flashlight had shown that it was a barrier he could not pass. Then had come the taps to which he had replied.
He seemed to hear a dull thumping on the other side of the metal curtain. What did it signify? Perhaps the man behind the barrier would tell. Yet Harry realized that time must be short. He had found Bruce Duncan. It was his duty to aid the man. How could he help by standing there?
It would be best, he thought, to listen for a few minutes. Perhaps the coded clicks would give him some suggestion that might enable him to rescue the man whom he had come to save. But as he swept the flashlight along the side of the cellar, he understood the situation. It was not a wall that lay between him and Bruce Duncan — it was a curtain of steel that could evidently be raised from above.
As he turned to start a search for stairs to the house above, he heard a sound to one side. He wheeled quickly; as he did, a light filled the room. Plunging upon him was a huge man. Vincent caught the glint of a knife — a machete. He saw a leering face, with a scarred cheek. He turned to escape the enemy, and swung his automatic toward him.
His wrist was seized before he could press the trigger. The pistol fell upon the floor. But though Harry lost his weapon, he managed to escape the thrust of the machete. Quick as a flash he caught the man's right wrist and prevented him from bringing the knife into play.
They struggled silently. The huge man with the ugly face was powerful, yet The Shadow's agent had the strength to resist him. As their arms locked and they stood straining yet almost motionless, Harry realized that he had been discovered in the dark, and that the man had pressed a light switch which illuminated this part of the cellar.
Harry's fierce opponent was a leering, scar-faced brute. Harry, faced by the man's dark visage, took the fellow for a Mexican; a logical guess since the man had first attacked with a machete. Harry battled madly; but he knew from the start that he was waging conflict with an enemy whose strength was far greater than his own.
The odds were in favor of the attacker. He had nearly caught Harry unaware; he intended to weaken his antagonist. Every second that went by postponed all effort to rescue the imprisoned Bruce Duncan.
Harry realized this. He made a sudden twist. Taking advantage of a slip on the part of his opponent, he eluded the man's grasp and was free. He dashed madly across the cellar toward the opening through which he had come. There he stopped in consternation.
The Mexican, in coming through the cellar, had evidently seen the dim light of the opened window. This part of the cellar was quite dark, away from the illumination farther back. Still, Harry could see that the grating had been closed and fastened.
There was only an instant to take in these facts. The lead that Harry had gained might have been sufficient for him to scramble through had the grating been open. Outside, he might have summoned help. Now, at bay, he turned to meet the onrush of the big man whose machete was raised above his head.
Harry grabbed the fellow's arm and locked in furious struggle. His only hope was to overpower the man now. He was fierce in his attack and he swung the huge Mexican around toward the wall near the grating.
He had gripped the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but in his eagerness Harry lost his clutch on the other wrist. The fellow's left hand pressed against Harry's face and pushed him backward. Harry's arms were pinned in a powerful grasp. The Shadow's agent was suddenly rendered helpless.
In the dimness he saw the outline of the snarling, jeering face. The hand with the machete was free. It poised above him, the weapon pointed toward his chest.
"Hah-hah-hah!" the Mexican's voice panted as he sneered at Vincent. "You think you can fight Pedro? Hah-hah-hah! You see this?"
The machete wriggled in Pedro's hand. It quivered for the death thrust. The big man's back was against the wall, near the grating. Harry could see the closed bars behind him.