The young girl’s smile was as fearless as the light that shone in her dark eyes.
“I am ready, Don Winslow!” she said calmly. “You can count on me to help or to suffer, as the need may be. Even the tortures of Cho-San’s Lantern Room could not terrify me now. Am I glad that Suzette....”
As if in answer to her spoken name, the little French maid appeared from behind the carved Chinese screen. Impulsively she seized her mistress’ hands and squeezed them.
“Suzette is glad also, Mademoiselle!” she exclaimed earnestly. “But, hélas! There is no time to speak of that. I have bad news for Commander Winslow!”
XXVI
THE ROOM OF A THOUSAND TORMENTS
Before Don could frame a question, the little French-woman caught his arm.
“Écoutez!” she cried in a husky undertone. “Do you know a man about twenty-six year old, with big, thick chest and red hair dyed black?”
“Yes, yes!” Don whipped back. “Go on! Tell me what you mean! They haven’t caught him?”
“But they have, Monsieur!” replied Suzette. “Ah, I had the fear it might be one of your men! They have just brought him in, unconscious, and Cho-San is very much excited. I hear him say, 'Now I shall grind the truth out of that clown who calls himself Count Borg. But first, I’ll burn 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’d rather be there in his place—but, quick! Tell me what we can do to get him away?”