“The death will begin soon,” said the man who had questioned Harry Vincent. “Wait ten minutes. Then proceed.”
The executioner nodded.
“As for the other,” said the man in the robe, “pay no attention to him. We have provided for his wants. I shall visit him when necessary.”
The man in the robe extended his hand. Upon one finger was the strangely carved beetle — a duplicate of Rodney Paget’s scarab ring. Bron bowed.
“The sign,” he said in a sepulchral voice.
The man in the robe formed the number seven — the fingers and thumb of the right hand extended; two fingers showing from the left. Bron replied with one open hand and one clenched fist — the sign of the Fifty.
The inquisitor turned and walked a few paces. He stopped at a blank wall. He pressed his hands against the sides of the passage. A sheet of metal arose, revealing the faint outline of a spiral stairway.
The man in the robe went through the opening; the barrier closed behind him. He ascended the stairway and came to another barrier. Another sheet of metal rose when he pressed the hidden catch. He stepped into a small room that was lighted by a bright lamp.
There was a table in the center of the room. Upon it rested a peculiar instrument with a large lettered keyboard.
THE man in the robe sat at the table and carefully noted the time on a watch that lay there. He threw back his cowl and revealed a firm, well-featured face.