Clink nodded. He left the room.
Bob became thoughtful as he sat at the old, flat-topped desk. Briggs took a seat in the corner. They were awaiting the call from their chief.
Neither one was perturbed. So far as they were concerned, Betty Mandell was already dead. The vault of doom was below another portion of the house. These heartless men were indifferent to its existence.
CLINK would have gloated had he been able to see within that dark and forgotten secret room. For there, in the depths of the living tomb, Betty Mandell was undergoing all the agony that can come to a mind ravaged by fantastic terrors.
The air had become stifling. Betty was accustomed to the gag by now, yet she was breathing with difficulty. The air supply in the tiny room was rapidly becoming exhausted.
Betty knew that she had no hope. She had listened intently after the room had been sealed, trying to hear some sound from without. She had been unsuccessful. Once the muffled hammering had ended, there had been no further noise.
She did not know whether the men still remained in the corridor. She felt sure that they had gone, leaving her to the fate they had intended.
Betty had struggled with the cords that bound her. Now she fought no longer. Betty knew that if she did release herself from the bonds, nothing would be gained.
Her loudest cries would be completely stifled by the massive walls of this room. Escape was impossible!
Her head was swimming. Vague, terrifying thoughts swept through her brain. She fancied that she heard the voice of Bob Galvin — the voice of the real Bob, coming through the receiver of a telephone. Then it was drowned by the harsh tones of the man who had pretended to be Bob Galvin.