The center of the floor began to rise. A solid square of cement came slowly upward, actuated by a force from below. Four metal rods, like the corners of a skeleton cabinet, appeared beneath the ascending slab.
Froman eyed this indifferently. He made no comment until the complete structure of an open-sided elevator had appeared and a short, stocky man had stepped from it.
“Well?”
Froman’s question was quietly addressed to the man who had emerged from the solid floor.
“He is ready to speak, sir.”
The stocky man’s reply was in a thickly accented voice. Froman smiled and spoke a few words in another language. The man answered in the same tongue.
Leisurely, Froman arose and stepped into the elevator. It descended into gloomy depths.
There, beneath the floor of the cellar, was a short passage illuminated by a single light. Striding to the end of this corridor, Froman stopped before a solid barrier that closed the way. He turned a knob that was located in the center of the blocking slab. The barrier slid upward, disappearing into the ceiling.
Three steps below lay a gloomy dungeon, a stone-walled room hewn in the depths beneath the cellar.
Two tough-faced men were there, standing with folded arms. They were looking at a huddled form straitjacketed against the wall.