"Doctor Q," he addressed him, "you can have the revenge you have sought so long. Have you prepared everything?"
The old man chuckled and wagged his head in senile fashion. Balcom grabbed both his shoulders so that the old man was facing him, and shook him slightly.
"Your enemies are here," he emphasized. "Have you prepared for their reception?"
And then the haze beclouding the old man's brain seemed to pass away and his next moments were lucid.
"Ah, it's you, Balcom. You were just saying—"
Balcom explained that Locke and Eva had tracked him and on his departure would undoubtedly enter to investigate the place. Doctor Q, for such was his odd name, understood now, and an evil grimace distorted his wrinkled face.
"Let them come," he growled. "I am prepared. Why, I have even improved certain features of the Chair of Death."
He led Balcom into an inner room where many electric bulbs were dimly glowing. At their entrance two brutal-looking men straightened up from their task and saluted Balcom with great deference. Then they resumed their tasks as electricians.
"Want to see her work, sir?" one of the pair asked.
Stepping around a partition that separated the knife-switch from the room in which stood the electric chair, Balcom watched.