“If he does not tell?”
“He shall die without telling!”
LING SOO bowed in acknowledgment. He seemed to accept the statement as an order. He listened placidly while Darley spoke, in a brutal tone.
“Keep him here,” he told Ling Soo. “Let him hang until he gains his senses — if he does.”
Darley’s last phrase was a sound one; for the hanging form seemed devoid of life. It had dropped a distance of more than twenty-five feet when Ling Soo had drawn the trap in the cabin, high above!
“Should Foy seem able to speak,” continued Darley, “threaten him with the full torture unless he tells. He will know its meaning. Each hour on that rack grows longer. No man can withstand its pain.”
Ling Soo beamed pleasantly. This cruelty was something he seemed to relish. His own eyes blinked as they surveyed the form of Foy, with its head bent forward, hanging askew.
“If he does not speak,” declared Darley, “you must wait until the others are here. Come again, to this spot, and offer him one more opportunity.
“Whether he speaks or does not speak, he must die then by your hand. Your killing shot will be the first signal. When it is heard from above, the firing will begin.
“Then for the shore — you with the ones who have fired. Let the sailors light the flares. Meanwhile the others will—”