Following upon Morse's words we heard the sound of footsteps and the scraping of a chair.
A new person had come into the room and Midwinter had risen to meet him.
"Nothing is changed. There was one Chinaman, it must have been the librarian of whom that guy we put through it, spoke--he came sliding along and tried to get down by the cat's cradle outside the tower. I was leaning out of that balcony window above, commanding every approach, and I got him with my second shot."
"Did he fall all the way down? That might startle them below."
"No. He just crumpled up on the stairs, and after looking round, I've come back here. There's a little wind beginning to get up and I shouldn't wonder if in an hour or so this mist-blanket is all blown away."
"Half an hour is enough for what we have to do, Zorilla. Just go over to Mr. Morse there and see if his lashings are secure--and then we must think about getting off ourselves."
It was as though Bill and I could see exactly what was happening in the library--the heavy tread, an affirmative grunt, and then the smooth hellish voice resuming:
"You know you've got to die, Morse, and die painfully. Nothing can alter that, but I'll let you off part of your agonies if you tell me at once where your daughter is. It will only precipitate matters. We can easily find her as you must know."
"I don't like talking with you at all. You are both of you doomed beyond power of redemption. You have overcome some of my precautions, by what means I cannot tell. You've captured my person. You are about to wreak your disgusting vengeance on it. For Heaven's sake do so. You know nothing of this place you are in, or very little. Fools!" The voice rang out like a trumpet.
There was a murmured conference, the words of which we could not catch, then Midwinter said:
"We'll put you to the test a little, before Zorilla really begins--operating. Adjoining this apartment I see there is your most luxurious bathroom--the walls of onyx, the bath of solid silver. Well, we'll take you and put you in that bath and turn on the water. I'll stand over you, and with my hands on your shoulders, I'll plunge you an inch or two beneath the surface, till you are so nearly drowned that you taste all the bitterness of death. Then we'll have you up again and ask you a few questions. Perhaps you may have to go back into the bath a second time before Zorilla gets to the real work."