The disguise of The Shadow was too perfect even for the shrewd eyes of Ling Soo!
BUT that could not save The Shadow, now. Ling Soo, cold and deliberate, was at work, cackling as he used his efforts.
He had attached the end of the rope to a stout hook on the wall. It went there at an angle from the top of the frame. The Shadow — false Foy — was bound in the Chinese torture rack!
This, the most formidable of all contrivances for slow death, was a device that utterly defied escape. Those hands — bound and wired — could do nothing more than claw the empty air. Well did Ling Soo know the prisoner’s helplessness, for he had seen others in this rack before.
The toes of the prisoner, barely touching the floor, could not support a fraction of his weight. All strain was on the wrists. Arms and shoulders must take the burden that would increase with each succeeding minute.
Foy, the traitor, was doomed. His fate would be a bullet through his heart. Just how soon his life would pass away depended upon how soon Ling Soo would be ready to kill.
Tomorrow, thought the cackling Ling Soo, this body would be found, before the ship cleared the harbor. Those who discovered it would see the evidence of a fiendish Chinese plot. That plot would be attributed to the Tiger Tong.
Let the American authorities learn the identity of Foy! It would be to Ling Soo’s liking.
For it would prove beyond a doubt that the Wu-Fan had been attacked by enemies. Foy — servant of Ling Soo, the leader — found tortured and slain! Nothing could be better.
It added the perfect touch that Ling Soo desired. Members of the Wu-Fan were coming peacefully to his ship. Here, a short outburst would take place. The members of the Wu-Fan would flee, Ling Soo among them.