“Got ye now!” he grated triumphantly. “Tell me where you have taken Nadia! Speak quick, or you’ll never have the chance to speak at all!”
“Go ahead!” gasped the helpless scoundrel. “Kill me! Kill me, and you’ll never set eyes on her again!”
“Where is she?”
“You can’t force me to tell.”
The fingers on the throat of the Spaniard tightened. Bunol’s breath hissed in his throat and then stopped.
“I certain am not in a fooling mood,” said Brad, “and it’s up to you to talk plenty fast.”
Bunol could not talk then, and he could do nothing but gasp when the crushing hold was relaxed.
“I’ll give you about twenty seconds to begin unloading your mind,” said Brad. “Time is flying a heap. Ten seconds gone! Fifteen seconds! Time’s up!”
The cry that Bunol started to utter was cut short by the pressure once more applied to his throat.
Then a figure came flitting through the shadows, dark as night and silent as a phantom. It sped to the spot and was on Buckhart before the Texan realized that another was present.