“Stop! I shall tell you!”
The words escaped Harry’s lips almost involuntarily. Evidently Anelmo realized that a point had been gained. He did not turn the iron bar an inch farther. Yet Harry knew that he must speak, or the torture would begin again.
“Tell me what you want to know,” he said.
“The Shadow,” said Genara. “Who is he?”
“I do not know.”
Again that twisting of the iron rod. Harry’s lips twitched, and he bent his head in pain.
“I do not know,” he repeated. “I would tell you, if I knew. I have met him. I have worked for him” — his words became slow and painful under the terrific strain — “but — I - do — not — know — who — he — is!”
Anelmo stopped the torture. Harry’s chin rested against his chest. The words had been virtually squeezed from him by the terrific pressure that Anelmo had induced.
Men spoke the truth beneath that torture. Genara and Anelmo had each been witness of the fact on more than one occasion. They knew now that Harry Vincent was telling all he knew.
“Where is The Shadow?” demanded Genara.