by Robert Reed
he tore collar and tie from his throat and piled all on the floor against
WINGS OF THE BLACK DEATH, by Norvell Page | 132
a brick wall. He opened his lighter, spiced its highly inflammable
liquid over the pile, set fire to it in a half dozen places. Flames leaped
up. Smoke and the stench of burning cloth filled the hall. Small dan-
ger of it spreading against that brick wall, but it seemed real enough .
Wentworth raced down the hall, pounded at a door . “Fire! Fire!”
He ran to the next door, beat with his fist. “Fire!” he cried again.
“Fire! Get out of here fast!”
Voices gabbled within . A door was opened a crack and a fright-
ened, tousled head thrust out .
“Fire!” yelled Wentworth .
Other voices caught it up . Down the stairs he plunged and beat
on more doors . The house was in a turmoil . People had been already
awakened by the screaming sirens . The dread cry in their own build-
ing tumbled them out in panic .
Men with no coats, with trousers dragged on so hurriedly their
suspender straps dangled; women in night clothes with kimonos
caught across their breasts; young children laughing and shouting .
Wentworth tousled his own hair, let his suspender straps dangle,
swiftly untied his shoes . He affected a limp in one leg . His smoke-
swollen eyes seemed sleepy and his mouth drooped stupidly . In the
midst of a jam of fleeing people, he ran to the street.
Police were clustered there, but the excited cry of “Fire!” broke
their ranks and let the terrified mob through. Smoke was boiling out
of the top floor window now. Police and firemen bounded into the
building .
Wentworth stared stupidly up at the smoke, thumbed suspender
straps over his shoulders . “Damnedest thing I ever saw,” said the
Spider with an atrocious accent to a man next to him . “Here I am
sleeping sound and I hear the fire sirens making a fuss. ‘Jeez!’ I says
to myself, ‘Suppose that’s this building .’ Then they go on by and I
goes back to sleep again . Then foist t’ing you knows here’s this guy
pounding on the door and yelling fire. Jeez! Was I scared!”
The other man shook his head glumly . “Me, too,” he said, “And
here I was having the first good sleep in a week.”
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Wentworth stared up at the building again, moved off grumbling .
Nobody paid any attention to him and he eased into the darkened
areaway of a building . The shadows absorbed him . He slipped a
hand to the tool kit beneath his arm, and the iron grating yielded . It
was the work of an instant then to penetrate the back yard, scale a
fence and escape to the next street .
It was the heat of summer and a man without his coat was not
conspicuous . Wentworth shambled with slouched shoulders, but he
moved swiftly . His car was parked where he had instructed Ram
Singh to place it . Just beyond it was a Buick coupe, spotlessly new
except for a rear fender that had been crumpled as if in a vise .
The Spider’s eyes narrowed . He moved cautiously to the curb so
that his own car interposed between himself and that other car . He
stalked it cautiously . The Buick was empty .
But where was Ram Singh? A worried frown furrowed Went-
worth’s forehead . Never before had the faithful Hindu failed him in
his need. Nothing short of injury or — Wentworth hesitated even at
the thought — death could prevent him from coming to his master’s
aid .With a dread that the prospect of death itself had not brought him,
he went leaden-footed to the Lancia and tugged open its rear door .
Two feet thrust out stiffly.
“Ram Singh!” Wentworth cried out .
No words answered him, but there was a muffled groan. The
Spider’s hand was swift to the light . It revealed the Hindu pros-
trate on the floor, bound and gagged, a gash across his forehead, but
not — thank God — dead. An arm was twisted unnaturally and when
Wentworth freed him, he found it was broken .
Wentworth sought no explanation, and Ram Singh volunteered
none . Between them it was unnecessary .
“Did you see the man’s face?” Wentworth asked .
Ram Singh shook his head slowly . Shame was on his face, but
he met the Spider’s eye directly, then began to climb slowly, with
dangling arm, into the chauffeur’s seat . Wentworth laughed softly,
stopped the Hindu affectionately . He made him as comfortable as
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possible in the rear, mounted the chauffeur’s seat himself and drove
rapidly to a doctor, who was under obligations to him for a past and
very secret service, and who did not mind winking at the requirement
of reporting to the police every suspicious injury he treated — if the
man he treated was a friend of Richard Wentworth .
Chapter 8
The Plague Again
With grim amusement, the Spider read next day in the newspa-
pers of the adventures of the policeman who had fired at him. First
he had found a murdered man and an unconscious girl beneath a
window from which smoke rolled .
He had carried the girl away from danger, and, returning, had
found upon the brow of the murdered man the seal of the Spider!
He had pursued the Spider and the man had vanished into thin air .
Newspapers, putting the obvious inference on the rescue of the girl
and the man’s death, called the silken cord which had been found
about the girl’s waist a “piece of the Spider’s Web .” They marveled
over its strength, for in tests it had resisted a strain up to five hundred
pounds .
Wentworth grinned at Ram Singh, standing silently beside him
with his arm in a sling, a little pale, but refusing to be treated as an
invalid . A broken arm? Wah! It was as nothing .
“That’s what comes, Ram Singh,” said Wentworth, “of using old
silk . That bit of my ‘web’, as they call it, should have tested up to
seven hundred pounds .”
But there was other news in the paper that brought not even grim
amusement; that narrowed Wentworth’s eyes with fury; that gripped
his heart with cold fingers at the knowledge of his own failures to
seize the Black Death .
For the Master of the Plague had not rested content with the toll
at the Gainsborough estate . Once more the loathsome, strangling
fingers of disease had clutched a family, and a millionaire’s child
WINGS OF THE BLACK DEATH, by Norvell Page | 135
had died with its nurse and mother . White-faced, Wentworth faced
the conviction that daily, even hourly, the criminal was sending out
his warnings, and where they failed, sending another message that
carried with it death by diabolic torture .
And the Spider’s sole clue to the Black Death was now in police
hands — Virginia Doeg.
The girl had finally admitted to police that the Spider had assisted
her and they believed she knew much more about that mysterious
avenger’s identity than she had revealed .
They had her under triple
guard at an unnamed place .
Wentworth’s gray-blue eyes glinted . That meant he would have
to ask Commissioner Kirkpatrick to take him to her . He laughed
shortly . Stanley would do it all right, hoping to trick the girl into
some evidence of recognition . Once he had located her, Wentworth
must in some way evade that triple guard, release her, and obtain the
information he was sure she held which might point the way to the
Black Death .
He first phoned Nita. “Darling,” he said, “be very careful. The
Master of the Plague is out for me . Now his bait is in the hands of
the police . He might try to abduct you for that purpose .” His voice
dropped softly . “He knows, dearest, as anyone must who knows me
at all, that life itself is not so dear to me as you .”
He smiled slowly as he heard the girl’s eager rush of words, her
fears for his safety . He warned her again, and left with a smile for
the ruddy, anxious face of old Jenkyns, the butler .
The door of Kirkpatrick’s office opened to him instantly A new
grimness marked the Commissioner’s brown, saturnine face . The
pointed black mustache, neat as always, seemed incongruous, like a
butterfly on the face of a corpse.
He nodded without smiling, refusing to respond to this visitor’s
casual cheeriness as Wentworth offered one of his private brand of
cigarettes and extended the lighter, which had always been a chal-
lenge between them since the day Kirkpatrick had searched the
lighter in vain for the seal of the Spider .
“You have read the papers?” Kirkpatrick asked .
WINGS OF THE BLACK DEATH, by Norvell Page | 136
Wentworth nodded with a smile .
“The Spider, it seems,” he said casually, “goes about his business
as mysteriously as ever .”
Kirkpatrick shook his head jerkily . “I mean the late editions of
the afternoon papers,” he explained .
More of the Black Death?” Wentworth’s mouth thinned .
“Yes,” said Kirkpatrick slowly . “Old man Biltland himself has
got it . Much good his millions will do him now . There are more of
them every hour . Heaven only knows where this thing will end . Bilt-
land came to me for protection after he got his letter, and now — ”
“We must get this criminal, and get him quickly,” Wentworth
said savagely .
Kirkpatrick laid a clenched fist on the desk, his piercing eyes
curiously steady on his friend’s face .
“That seems to be the opinion of the papers, too,” he said, and
they offer a clue .”
Wentworth’s quick question did not alter Kirkpatrick’s curious
stare . He spoke slowly:
They say, and with strong logic, that there is a connection be-
tween the Spider and the Black Death . They point out that the two
came to the city together .”
Wentworth’s small smile still lingered about his mouth . But he
felt the slow beginning of a throb in that thin scar masked by the hair
upon his temple .
“That sounds ridiculous,” he said calmly, “as ridiculous as news-
paper theories usually do . The Spider kills only crooks, and he has
never been known to do anything for the money in it .”
Kirkpatrick leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, drum-
ming with the fingers on one lean hand, his eyes still unwavering.
“Granted,” he said. “I, too, find it hard to believe. Yet the Spider
killed two of my men .”
The smile left Wentworth’s face . He too, leaned forward tensely .
“For which I have sworn vengeance,” he said sharply . “And that
is why I am here . Take me to see this girl who last night saw the
Spider . Perhaps I can get some useful information from her .”
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Kirkpatrick’s fingers ceased to drum upon the desk. He stared
fixedly into the lean, intent face of his friend.
“You ask me to let you talk to that girl?” His voice was muted .
“Precisely,” said Wentworth .
For an instant the gaze of the two men continued locked . Then
Kirkpatrick stood erect . A small smile twisted his mouth .
“Since you ask it,” he said . “But in your place I would not have
done so .”
Wentworth’s thin lips were mocking . “No, Stanley, I don’t be-
lieve you would .”
They went swiftly to the Commissioner’s dark, powerful car, and
behind a blue-coated chauffeur whizzed through traffic. Kirkpatrick
turned his head and fixed his eyes upon the imperturbable profile of
his friend . “We have her at a hotel, the Marlborough .”
Wentworth raised his brows in amusement . “Rather expensive,
isn’t it?” he asked, “for a mere material witness .”
Kirkpatrick did not answer, and the men were silent while the
car sped on, The Marlborough on South Central Park, home of the
wealthy and the celebrated! The Black Death would think long be-
fore he found her there, Wentworth told himself . Yet there was an
uneasiness behind his eyes as they slipped on up Seventh Avenue
past a blue-coated policeman at Fifty-Seventh Street, who stopped
all traffic to let them pass and saluted smartly.
There was an unchanging frown on Kirkpatrick’s forehead; and
abruptly, as the car whirled into Central Park South, he slid forward
to the edge of his seat, bolt upright, his hand a clenched fist upon
his knee .
“Good God,” he cried hoarsely, “What can be the matter?”
Parked at the curb were three radio patrol cars . Two policemen
stood guard at the door and a crowd boiled about the entrance .
Wentworth jerked open the door, leaped out with Kirkpatrick at
his heels and together they pounded across the pavement, ploughing
through the crowd like a charge of cavalry .
“What is it?” Kirkpatrick snapped at one of the guardians of the
door .
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The man saluted, his face grimly concerned . “The Spider, sir!” he
said . “Three of our men dead, and the girl is gone!”
For an instant the news seemed to stun the two men, Kirkpatrick
and Wentworth . They stared at each other, then ran into the lobby
of the hotel, sprang into an elevator and were whisked to the tenth
floor.
The hall swarmed with police, but a way was opened respectfully
for the striding figures of the two men — opened to show them the
bodies of two policemen on the floor, shot to death! And upon their
foreheads glinted the blood-red seal of the Spider .
Wentworth stared fixedly at the seal. It was a clever imitation,
faithful in almost every respect except that it was a little larger than
the one he used . The two back legs of the Spider were curved a little
too much also, but those trivial details would escape the attention of
the police and indeed, if they were noticed, it would make no differ-
ence in their opinion of the guilt of the Spider .
A white-haired sergeant was in charge . His voice was bitter with
anger .
that makes five of them the Spider has killed . By God, sir, if ever I
get my hands on him — ”
Kirkpatrick nodded shortly, turned and stared for a moment
fixedly into Wentworth’s eyes.
He drew a hand wearily across his forehead, pushed on into the
room where the girl had been held prisoner . The white-haired ser-
geant and Wentworth followed .
The Commissioner prowled about the room, flinching from the
Spider -branded body on the floor.
“What happened?” he asked over his shoulder .
The sergeant’s voice was still tight with hate . “No one seems to
know exactly, sir . Nobody heard any shots . Nobody knew anything
about the murders until someone rang for a bellboy and he came
upstairs and found our men dead in the hall. They flashed an alarm
to us and you got here almost as soon as we did .”
WINGS OF THE BLACK DEATH, by Norvell Page | 139
“Then no one knows the time of the murders, exactly,” said the
Commissioner, meeting Wentworth’s eyes again . “That will make
an alibi rather difficult.”
Kirkpatrick took a short stride across to the window and peered
out . The building dropped away for ten stories straight down . He
shook his head, turned, and looked about the room .
“What I can’t understand,” the Commissioner said, “is why the
girl was taken away alive . Obviously this was done because, as I
suspected all along, Virginia Doeg knew the identity of the Spider,
and he was afraid she would betray him .”
Wentworth slowly drew a cigarette and ignited it with a minute
rasp of his lighter . He knew a different answer to this atrocity . He
knew the Black Death had murdered the police and left the girl alive
because Virginia Doeg was bait for the Spider, bait for a death trap
into which he hoped to lure the one enemy he feared .
After hours of futile investigation Wentworth took his leave of
Kirkpatrick and at once set about starting a new search for the girl .
She remained his one clue, his one hope of lifting the dread terror of
the plague that hung over the city .
Probably the Black Death would communicate with him in some
way to reveal the whereabouts of the girl . Wentworth did not wait
for that, for then the trap would be set . It was better to strike before
his enemy was prepared . The Spider had a clue that the criminal