Cooper's face was malicious as he ordered his prisoners to raise their hands above their heads. His good-natured smile had become an evil grin. The fingers of his left hand tugged at his mustache and pulled the adornment from his lip.
"Garrison Cooper!" he exclaimed. "Garrison Cooper died a month ago. He was the sixth man; he carried his secret to his grave, for he destroyed both letters after he received them. He died from a heart attack. We didn't expect him to come here after we learned of his death. Only the living can come — and they do not leave.
"I don't even look like Garrison Cooper. But you didn't know that. My name is — well, they call me 'Frenchy'; that's enough. I'm Chefano's trump card — his ace in the hole. He left the game in my hands, and I've won!"
Frenchy's white teeth gleamed as he surveyed the men he had betrayed.
CHAPTER XXXVII. THE TORTURE CHAMBER
A little group of men came into the moonlight, up the stone steps from the passage that extended beneath the old stone ruin. Harry Vincent and Major Weston were in advance, their arms raised.
Frenchy followed, threatening with his automatic. Chefano and Jupe, released from their dungeon, were at the rear.
Chefano took the lead after they had reached the ground. Following a curt command from Frenchy the prisoners walked after Chefano. His path led back toward the lane, but he turned left at the end of the building and stopped at a pair of stone steps that descended beneath the old tower to light a lantern.
The prisoners were taken into a low-ceilinged room that seemed dull and tomblike in the gloom. A doorway showed at the farther corner. It had steps that evidently went up into the stone tower.
In the center of the room was a low, flat table. Chains rested on one end; at the other edge was a long roller of wood that was set in two upright posts. At each end, by a post, was a four-armed winch; these winches were crudely fashioned of wooden spokes. There were chains attached to the roller and chains at the lower end of the table.