"No. Says he is looking for a spook."
Barruci was close beside Milligan.
"Cardona is after The Shadow," he said, in a low voice.
A look of surprise came over Milligan's coarse face. He motioned to the man at the winch to release pressure. Cardona's form slumped to the platform. Milligan stepped away from the wall. The Chicago gangsters watched, while the New York gunman strode forward and leaned over the form of Detective Cardona, who was still senseless.
He had shown his mettle to-night. He had borne the racking cruelty with amazing stoicism. His senses were gradually returning, but his eyes were still shut.
"You can't make him talk," growled Snooks Milligan. "He won't open his mouth—"
"Won't he?" rasped Jake Quellan's harsh voice. "I'll make him talk! I'll give you the dope on this guy. He's nervy enough, but he shies away from a rod. Flash a gun under his nose, and if he can't get away from it, he'll quit.
Quellan saw that Milligan was dubious. The New Yorker looked around the group — from Milligan to Barruci, and to the four other mobsters.
"Watch me," Quellan said. "Cardona's coming to. Watch me make him squawk — " He drew two automatics from his pockets as he leaned over the weakened detective. With one of them, Quellan roughly nudged Cardona's head backward so that the opening eyes were staring toward the ceiling. With the other gun, the New Yorker struck against the ropes that were dangling from the roller. Cardona's hands were bound, but he was free of the rack. His body slowly turned until it lay sidewise on the platform.
Stooping beside the platform, Quellan brandished one automatic close to Cardona's face. The detective's eyes opened; then closed. Rising slowly, Quellan turned toward the other mobsmen. It was Snooks Milligan who sensed what was about to happen. He caught the strange gleam in Quellan's eyes. In a flash, a complete understanding came to his startled mind.