by Robert Reed
a tall heavy man, whose face, too, was covered with a black mask . In
his right hand was a heavy gun, and its muzzle was pointed straight
at the Spider’s heart!
Chapter 3
Flight — and Challenge
Facing the gun in the hands of the masked man, Wentworth
straightened slowly . His voice was entirely calm .
“You have me at a disadvantage . I’m afraid I don’t know you .”
The man chuckled behind his mask .
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“You never will,” he said . “It is unfortunately necessary for me to
leave you here — dead.”
“Really?”
There was mild amusement in the Spider’s tone, but there was
none in his face beneath the shielding black silk . Death glared at
him from the slits of the other man’s mask, from the black muzzle
of that leveled gun .
Somewhere not far away Ram Singh was even then entering a
telephone booth . Police would come . But they would bring no help
to Wentworth . To the Spider the police meant death just as sure as
that unwavering muzzle into which he looked . For there behind
him in a huddled heap across the table was another who had paid
the penalty for his sins . And the brilliant, small seal of the Spider
glowed like a drop of blood upon his forehead!
Yet there was nothing of all this apprehension in the Spider’s
voice. He must play for time and trust to his split second reflexes, his
keen mind, to yank him from the closing jaws of death .
“Curiosity,” he told the masked man, “is an unpleasant thing to
carry to one’s grave . I don’t know you, and I know most of the
crooks of this world . Why do you seek my death?”
Once more the man chuckled .
“Simply because you have learned too much — ”
Wentworth’s eyes became pinpoints as he read the meaning be-
hind those words . Then this man knew the secret of those vials in the
safe, knew the horror at which they hinted .
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said . “Learned what?”
The man’s laughter hissed into the silent room again .
“Guess, Spider,” he rasped . “But guess fast . You have but a few
moments left .”
Wentworth raised a hand before him as though inspecting his
fingernails, but his eyes shot to the face of his watch. Two minutes
had elapsed now since Ram Singh had called the police . Any sec-
ond would see them ascending the stairs . They might seize this man
from behind, might interrupt this execution . But what would follow
for the Spider?
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Wentworth dreaded to think what might happen to the city should
he himself be arrested now and placed on trial for murder . He might
tell his suspicions to the police . But after all they were nothing but
suspicions . And who would believe the Spider? Who would take his
vague, unfounded charges seriously?
Wentworth’s eyes caught the glint of electric light on moving
metal and glanced quickly at the man who was his captor . The gun
was rising slowly; he could see the increasing tension of the man’s
knuckles . The trigger was moving slowly back! And at the same
instant Wentworth’s straining ears caught the cautious tread of feet
upon the stair .
The police had arrived; it could be no one else . Wentworth’s body
tensed for the final desperate moment. Then in the blackness of the
hall, a voice roared:
“Hands up there!”
The Spider himself could not have whirled more quickly than the
tall man in the doorway . Whirl and shot were instantaneous, and in
the hall a man cried out hoarsely .
With a single movement of his hand, the Spider extinguished the
light . In two strides he reached the window, yanked down the top
casement .
No fear now that the killer would get him . Guns roared and bel-
lowed in the hallway; lead sang and whined . The Spider smiled
thinly as he fled. The police would take care of his recent captor
now .
With swift, lithe movements Wentworth climbed out through
the upper casement, planted his foot upon it as upon a ladder, and
sprang upward . His hands closed upon the edge of the roof and for a
moment he dangled there, clinging with aching fingers.
There were hoarse shouts below him in the yard, guns blazed,
and lead plunked into the wood beside him. Wentworth flexed his
arms, levered himself upward . In an instant he got a foot over the
gutter, rolled and was safe .
More lead whistled by as he dodged away from the edge of the
roof . He ran in a crouch across its narrow width, hurdled the barrier
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to the next house, and, ducking beneath radio wires, proceeded
swiftly across four buildings. Atop the fifth dwelling, he jerked up
a roof scuttle and dropped through on light feet into the black upper
hallway of another, smelly tenement .
It was the work of moments then to run swiftly down the stairs,
jerking off the telltale mask and slipping it into the toolkit beneath
his arm . And once more the Spider became a shadow, merged with
the blackness of the lower hall . Casually he drifted out into the street
and mingled with the excited crowd that was being pushed back by
policemen from the danger zone about John Harper’s pawnshop,
where guns still blazed .
Richard Wentworth remained with that crowd until the police
drove them away . Then, as if reluctantly, he moved off down the
street .
Five minutes later, in a dank by-way, he slid again into the Lancia
with a brief nod to Ram Singh . Then, as the imperturbable Hindu
slid the limousine into smooth purring speed, Wentworth’s finger
touched once more the button that revealed the wardrobe behind the
seat and he quickly garbed himself again in evening dress .
As he alighted from the car at the Police Commissioner’s house,
he glanced again at his watch. Nearly an hour. Too long — he should
have been back half an hour ago .
Swiftly he moved, dodging again the pacing policeman and
entered the conservatory . Standing in the doorway, he drew out a
cigarette and lighted it with a flick of the lighter that so recently had
implanted the seal of the Spider upon a dead man’s forehead .
A dangerous thing for any man to carry — the seal of the Spider .
And so Wentworth had found it in the past; but now his old friend,
Professor Brownlee, had made him a lighter which was practically
proof against discovery . The seals were there in the base of the
lighter, in a secret chamber, but even that secret chamber would be
hard to find; for a thin coating of varnish which matched the lighter,
and which Wentworth had reapplied on his trip back to Kirkpatrick’s
home, concealed the narrow crack that marked the opening of the
secret chamber .
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In addition to that, if anyone but Wentworth opened that com-
to press a small hidden button and to bring the seal swiftly in contact
with a surface to which it would adhere to prevent its dissolution .
Wentworth’s hand, as he held the flame, was rock steady; he
smiled slightly to see it, and strolled out among the guests . Nita van
Sloan, the one woman he trusted in all the world, was whirling in
the stately measures of a waltz in the arms of Police Commissioner
Stanley Kirkpatrick .
The men’s eyes met, and a wintry smile lifted the small black
pointed mustache of the Commissioner of Police . He turned slowly
in the rhythm of the dance, and Nita’s quick eyes flew to Went-
worth’s face . She smiled, but in the depths of her blue eyes was a
haunting fear .
It was not that she did not rely on the keen mind of her sweet-
heart; it was only that she knew the desperate chances he took, and
the knowledge that sooner or later every man must yield to the
mathematics of chance .
Standing there in the doorway, carelessly smoking as if guns had
never whined bullets past his head, as if his swift justice had never
taken life, Wentworth showed no evidence of his minutes-old tussle
with death. What first impressed you about him was the remark-
able physical alertness of the man . Five feet eleven, with the tapered
body and light stride of an athlete, he had a keen, tanned face and
the friendly interested eyes of a man who has long since learned the
secret of enjoying life .
He smiled slowly, and even half across the room the magnetism
of the man became apparent . He was so completely vital and alive .
The music halted and he crossed swiftly, took Nita’s hand and bowed
over it, his gray-blue eyes smiling up beneath black brows that held
always a hint of raillery .
“I have missed you,” Kirkpatrick said .
Wentworth smiled lightly . “I have been communing with the
stars . Libra, you know, is in the ascendant . That always brings
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luck — Libra, that is, in conjunction with Saturn — so I went out to
watch my luck rise .”
He turned smiling to the girl . His swift glance traveled over the
bright turquoise of the simple dress that subtly emphasized the soft
lines of her young body .
“Have I told you, my dear, how charming you are?” he asked . “A
singularly trying color to wear, and you do it perfectly .”
The girl blushed with pleasure, her face radiant beneath the clus-
tering brown warmth of her curling hair .
“Really, Dick,” she said, “and right out in public!” She turned to
Kirkpatrick . “Isn’t he simply impossible?” she asked lightly .
The commissioner’s lips beneath the pointed black mustache
were lifted by a slight smile .
“Dick Wentworth,” he said, “is a man who does the impossible .
He took the cigarette Wentworth proffered in a platinum case .
“The stars have given me a message,” Wentworth laughed, “I
have a feeling that the Spider,” he waved his hand and a thread of
blue smoke from his cigarette wavered slightly, “I have an idea that
the Spider will be with us again . I heard stories in Europe that he
was returning .”
The Spider!
The words seemed to hover over the three standing there in the
brilliant ballroom . It was like an Arctic blast In the midst of warm
comfort; like a window banged suddenly open into a quiet drawing
room, the storm and the rain beating in .
The eyes of the two men met . Challenge was there, despite all
the friendship between the two . Wentworth had once saved Kirk-
patrick’s life . There were bonds of admiration and respect between
them, and yet in the police commissioner’s mind was always a germ
of suspicion . Many times now Wentworth and the Spider had been
closely connected in circumstance and in simultaneous action . Al-
ways Wentworth had been able ultimately to turn aside that suspi-
cion . But always it returned .
The girl’s laughter at their side became strained and slightly un-
easy, and the laughter was not in her blue eyes .
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“Did the Spider, by any chance,” asked Kirkpatrick softly, “come
over on the boat with you?”
Wentworth threw back his head and laughed . “That man,” he
said, “he is so elusive . Who can say what boat he takes, what homes
he will penetrate?” and he cast his gray-blue eyes over the rich as-
sembly . “Why good Lord!” he exclaimed suddenly, “the man might
even be here, in this room .” He waved his hand again, and a tall man
with forward-thrust bald head and eyes keen beneath heavy brows,
walked over and grasped it .
“What man is this that might be here, Dick?” he asked and
laughed — and added “Welcome home!
Nita seized on the diversion .
“Really, Mac, it’s been ages since we’ve seen you .”
“MacDonald Pugh,” greeted Wentworth, “the great fisherman!
Tuna will be running soon, Mac, and we’ll have to go for some .”
Kirkpatrick bowed to the newcomer, bowed again to Nita . For
an instant a third smile flickered over his lips. “It was the Spider we
were talking about, Mac,” he said, looking at Wentworth . “I trust
the Spider’s presence, if he is here, will not cause you discomfort,
Dick .”
And Kirkpatrick, smiling suavely, moved away .
MacDonald Pugh looked after him with an amused smile .
“What’s eating the old boy tonight?” he queried .
“Same old problem, Mac,” Wentworth told him . “The Spider . I
was teasing him about the fellow and, as usual, Stan rose to the bait .
By the way, Mac, speaking of crime, you had a bit of an outbreak in
your office recently.”
Pugh’s face lengthened so that creases diagonaled from his nose
to mouth corners .
“A pity about Virginia Doeg,” he said . “I’d have sworn she was
honest . She was getting along nicely, too, engaged to marry a boy in
the office, a James Handley. Intelligent lad, Handley, going places
some day. And now — ”
Pugh waved a hand .
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“Good-bye to all that, eh?” Wentworth said musingly . “Usual
thing, I know, that claim of frame-up . But I wonder if there isn’t
something to it in this case?”
MacDonald shook his bald head .
“Let’s talk about something else,” he growled. “Tuna fishing, for
instance .”
“I’ll be by some week-end soon and make plans,” Wentworth
promised and Pugh nodded, smiled pleasantly and drifted off .
Nita’s hand was quick on Wentworth’s arm . “Oh, Dick, Dick,
why must you always stir up Kirkpatrick? He’s convinced already
that you’re the Spider . Why make him sure?”
Wentworth turned his head, smiled down at her with his gray-
blue eyes beneath his mocking brows .
“Bu
t my dear,” he said, “there must be some zest to life .”
“But to get it,” cried the girl, “from hair- breadth danger, from
laughing in the very face of death!”
Wentworth patted the small white hand upon his arm .
“Nita van Sloan,” he said, “if I recall, has done a bit of laughing
in the face of the gloomy old specter herself .”
A pompous butler appeared in the doorway abruptly . Wentworth
looked at him inquiringly .
“I was just looking, sir,” he said, ‘For Mr . Kirkpatrick .”
Wentworth glanced about . “There he is,” he said, and at the but-
ler’s signal the police commissioner strode across .
“A phone call, sir, an important one, they say . Shall I attach the
phone here?”
“Yes,” said Kirkpatrick, and stood chatting carelessly with his
two friends while the butler brought the instrument and plugged it
into the wall .
The commissioner excused himself and spoke into the transmit-
ter . Wentworth, watching him while apparently he listened to Nita’s
swift words, saw Kirkpatrick’s tall body tighten, saw his hands
clutch the telephone, heard his staccato words as he barked orders
into the transmitter . Then he returned the phone to the butler and
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whirled . His striding across the room was like the charge of a lion .
His eyes were hard as agates and his voice grated .
“The Spider,” he said sharply, “has just killed two of my police-
men!”
Chapter 4
“Shoot to Kill”
A thin white scar on Wentworth’s right temple, the relic of an
old knife fight, turned red and began to throb. That was the only
evidence of his excitement . His hands were steady; his eyes did not
flinch from the stern regard of Kirkpatrick. Beside him he could feel
the tightening of Nita’s hand upon his arm, and knew that her blue
eyes must be widened with horror .
Wentworth frowned slowly . “But that does not sound possible,”
he said . “I have never known the Spider to kill anyone except a
crook .”
“There is no mistake,” said Kirkpatrick sternly . “That villainous
red seal was printed on the foreheads of the dead men .”
Wentworth’s face stiffened with his effort at self-control . Truly
this new enemy was proving a worthy antagonist . For Wentworth
could not doubt that it was he who had placed the seal upon the