"We'll put you to the test a little, before Zorilla really begins—operating. Adjoining this apartment I see there is your most luxurious bathroom—the walls of onyx, the bath of solid silver. Well, we'll take you and put you in that bath and turn on the water. I'll stand over you, and with my hands on your shoulders, I'll plunge you an inch or two beneath the surface, till you are so nearly drowned that you taste all the bitterness of death. Then we'll have you up again and ask you a few questions. Perhaps you may have to go back into the bath a second time before Zorilla gets to the real work."
No words of mine can describe the malignancy of that voice, no words of mine can describe the shout of resolute, sardonic laughter which answered it.
Bill wanted to shout in answer, but I clapped my hand over his mouth just in time, and I could almost see the frowning faces of the two fiends as they advanced upon the bound man.
... Steps overhead; the little bulb over the mouthpiece labeled "Mr. Morse's study" goes out, and another lights up over the mouthpiece labeled "Bathroom." There is a jarring as a tap is turned on and a rush of water.
"That'll do, Zorilla. Two feet is quite enough for our purpose"—the voices are actually in the room now, much louder and clearer than before.
"You take the heels—steady, heavo!" and then a splash and a thud. We heard some one vaulting lightly into the bath.
"Now, Morse, I hold you up for a minute. I shall press you down under the water until you are as near dead as a man can be. Have you anything to say?"
"Yes. Give me one moment."
"Ten if you like."
Then there came in a calm, penetrating voice, "Are you there?"