He lay there, a strange figure in the guise of Foy. His face was streaked with blood. His wrists were raw. His lips were bleeding from contact with the binding wires. His strength seemed gone, as he breathed heavily and did not seek to move.
The Shadow had accomplished the seemingly impossible! He had escaped from the Chinese torture rack! He had duplicated the feat of the great Houdini, under the most difficult of all conditions!
But what was the result?
His form was motionless. Was he lapsing back into unconsciousness? Had all his strength been spent?
Time was short. The Shadow was in the hold of a strange ship, manned by a hostile crew! What hope could the future hold for him if he did not act now?
Minutes ticked by. Long, silent minutes, as hopeless as those that The Shadow had spent on the torture rack. For then, The Shadow had been active. Now, he was motionless.
The limit of his time had come. Footsteps sounded without the closed door. Hands rattled at the barrier.
The Shadow stirred.