Don Winslow of the Navy

by Frank V. Martinek

  XXVI

  THE ROOM OF A THOUSAND TORMENTS

  Before Don could frame a question, the little French-woman caught hisarm.

  "_Ecoutez!_" she cried in a husky undertone. "Do you know a man abouttwenty-six year old, with big, thick chest and red hair dyed black?"

  "Yes, yes!" Don whipped back. "Go on! Tell me what you mean! Theyhaven't caught him?"

  "But they have, Monsieur!" replied Suzette. "Ah, I had the fear it mightbe one of your men! They have just brought him in, unconscious, andCho-San is very much excited. I hear him say, 'Now I shall grind thetruth out of that clown who calls himself Count Borg. But first, I'llburn this dog with dyed hair until he howls all he knows!'"

  "It's Red!" Don groaned, his fists knotting at his sides. "You mean,Suzette, that they've got him in the torture room? Merciful heavens! I'drather be there in his place--but, quick! Tell me what we can do to gethim away?"

  "There is nothing, Don!" wailed Lotus, wringing her hands in distress."Once they have gotten your friend in the Lantern Room, there's no wayof rescuing him except by a trick. The place is too well-guarded...."

  "A trick!" exclaimed Suzette excitedly. "Let me think jus' a moment Ibelieve there is a way...."

  "There's got to be!" grated Don. "Even if we lose a chance of trappingthe Scorpion's whole bunch, we've got to get Red out of this. He's myshipmate, and...."

  _"Mais, oui!"_ cried the little maid. "We will do it with the help of_le bon Dieu_! Only first, you and Mademoiselle must be in the LanternRoom. You must pretend not to care how much they torture your poorfriend. You must not let Cho-San see that you know him at all. Then,when the chance have arrive, the lights will go out. Your friend must bequickly freed, and then _Ps-st_!"

  At Suzette's hissed warning, Lotus broke into rapid speech.

  "I understand, my little maid!" she said loudly, with a wink at theFrenchwoman. "You think you must play the chaperon whenever I am withCount Borg. That is why you are always sneaking into the room! Now, letme tell you this...."

  "Stop your chatter, girl!" rasped the voice of Cho-San behind them. "Ihave something of importance to tell your Andre; so be silent or leavethe room! Count Borg, it appears that our task of laying hands on DonWinslow may be unexpectedly simplified!"

  "Really, Cho-San!" shrugged Don indifferently. "Did you think it wasgoing to be difficult? I imagine if you used a large enough mob to seizehim...."

  "Will you never be serious?" spat the Chinese. "To put it bluntly, inelegant words such as you can understand, we have nabbed a guy who lookslike one of Winslow's pals. _Now_ do you understand?"

  "Oh, I say! That's luck, you know! Really!" exclaimed Don, acting hispart in spite of inward anxiety. "You mean we can use this man as baitto trap Winslow? Have the fellow write a note to his Commander, orsomething?"

  "_Or something!_" the Oriental mimicked him grimly. "I can think ofsomething even simpler than a written note, my dear Count. With theinformation I can get from this Navy spy, by the use of a littlepain.... But come with me to the Lantern Room and see for yourself! You,too, Lotus, dismiss your maid and come with us. It is time you shouldsee what a little persuasion--Oriental style--can accomplish. I havemachines, copied from the torture rooms of Ancient China, which canextract any secret!"

  Chuckling evilly, the huge Scorpion leader motioned the two young peopleout of the room ahead of him.

  As he turned away, Don fought an overpowering desire to smash his fistinto Cho-San's grinning yellow face. Only by ramming his hands deep inhis pockets did he succeed in controlling them. Although on fire withanxiety for Red, he must pretend a careless, somewhat bored good humor.

  "And I feared we were going to have a tiresome evening, Cho-San," hemurmured. "Chinese torture machines sound awfully entertaining, I mustsay! Er--by the way, I don't recall how we get to the lamp room, as youcall it."

  "Lantern Room!" growled the Chinese. "Lotus will lead the way and I willfollow. Take the shortest corridor, girl! I am anxious to see yourAndre's face when he sets eyes on our latest captive."

  The doorway concealed by the carved screen opened into another dimlylighted vestibule. Don guessed that a number of its darkly shiningpanels were really hidden doors, communicating with as many passageways.

  The girl, however, showed no hesitation in locating the one she wanted.Her small fingers played briefly with one of the carved dragons of themolding. There was the usual muffled click. Two seconds later a blackopening gaped in the solid wall.

  This time the narrow corridor ran almost straight, with a sharp downwardslope. The distance might have been a hundred feet before another panelslid open at Lotus' touch, and bright electric light streamed brieflyinto the dark passageway. Knowing, yet fearing, what he was going tosee, Don Winslow stepped into the Room of a Thousand Torments.

  The place was really a stone vault of immense proportions, fifty feetwide and perhaps a hundred long. Its groined ceiling was supported bythick stone pillars to which were affixed chains and ring bolts of iron.

  Along the walls stood a weird array of mechanical monsters, some of themso crudely made that they might have been centuries old. Don glimpsed amedieval "rack" for pulling living human bodies apart, a rude "wheel"between whose heavy spokes human legs and arms could be broken likematchsticks, an "iron maiden" whose hinged and hollow halves were spikedwith deadly knife blades.

  There were rows of other horrible machines at which he barely glanced.What drew his attention like a terrible magnet was the prone figure ofRed Pennington, still in his valet's garb, lying on a dark stained planktable. Blood trickling from Red's broken scalp had smeared the chalklikewhiteness of his face. So deathly was his appearance that the twoChinese hatchet men standing guard above him looked like murderersgloating over their kill!

  Biting hard on his tongue, Don Winslow held back his rage. Still keepinghis outward pose of lazy boredom, he turned to the Scorpion leader.

  "Oh, come now, Cho-San!" he protested. "What kind of a silly joke isthis? The fellow's dead as dust! No fun in tormenting a corpse, youknow."

  With a feline hiss, Cho-San leaped past him, shouldering aside thenearest hatchet man. Placing his ear to Red's chest, he listened for theheartbeat. The silence in the great, vaulted room was breathless.

  Abruptly the big Oriental straightened up, motioning the guards away.

  "The man is not quite dead; we can quickly revive him," he said. "Comenearer, Count Borg! We shall show you some fun _at the expense of yourown valet_!"

  "What's that?" cried Don sharply, striding across to the table. "Why,you're right, Cho-San! I didn't recognize him with all that blood on hisface. But see here--you can't put the screws on my valet, you know! He'sjust a harmless chap I picked up to do for me...."

  "Ummmmm-hmmmmmm! Of course, of course!" rumbled Cho-San. "Just aharmless chap you--or perhaps someone else--told to follow our car thisevening! Well, my dear Count Borg, he succeeded, as you observe!"

  The guards had returned with two buckets of water and a wide leatherstrap. At a gesture from Cho-San, they sloshed the water over Red's bodyfrom head to foot. As soon as both buckets were empty one of the hatchetmen began slapping their bound and helpless victim's face with the heavystrap.

  Suddenly Red groaned, rolling partly on his side. The man with the strapstepped away. At the same time, Cho-San pushed Don forward.

  The trick was cleverly planned. Only luck and Don's presence of mindprevented a showdown then and there. As it happened, Red in hishalf-conscious state still thought he was back at the Empire rehearsingthe part of "Penny."

  "Yes, sir! I'll get right up, sir!" he mumbled, opening one eye. "Ididn't mean to fall asleep, but ... mmmmm--my head!"

  At that moment Don flashed him a warning signal often used betweenthem--a sharp lift of the right eyebrow. And, foggy as poor Red's brainstill was, he got it.

  Instead of answering, he shut his mouth and groaned.

  With a sigh of inward relief, Don Winslow went
on with the act. Untilthe chance should come for a getaway, he must play for time.

  "Look here, my man!" he snapped angrily. "What on earth possessed you tofollow my friend's car this evening? Hang it! If this is some stupidpolice trick...."

  "Not at all, my dear Count!" chorded Cho-San, seizing Red by the scalp."It's a trick of the famous Navy Intelligence, if anything. Look closelyat this stout lieutenant's hair--dyed black, _except at the roots_!"

  A flat accusation could not have been more menacing than Cho-San's leer.Yet, somehow Don sensed that the Chinese was still only guessing. With apuzzled frown he returned the man's snaky gaze.

  "A lieutenant?" he drawled. "Oh, of course! You mean Red Pennington. Butreally, Cho-San, this fellow Penny couldn't be Don Winslow's shipmate. Ipicked him up only today on the sidewalk, mooching for dimes. He told mehe'd been a valet and I hired him. Even bought him an outfit of clothes.Come now, Cho-San, admit that your idea's a bit fantastic! Besides, howcould Pennington have got here so soon from Haiti, old dear? Ha-ha! I'vegot you there, haven't I?"

  "Unless," smiled the Chinese with sinister emphasis, "--unless you, mydear Don Winslow, brought him with you as a passenger in the plane thatMichael Splendor _allowed_ you to steal!"