A cloud gathered on Starr’s forehead. “You are a curious character. I have beaten you at every turn. I have you so completely cornered that you can’t even raise your pistol against me without endangering the life of a certain person whom you are deeply interested in. By the way, Slade has bungled this situation. He tells me that you have kidnaped Doctor Tagala and refuse to tell where he is hidden.”
“He has told you the exact facts. You will never see Tagala again until I release him, and that I won’t do until Miss Hardwick has been freed and the antidote turned over to me.”
Starr’s lip curled scornfully. “As I said, Slade has bungled the situation. He doesn’t seem to understand what kind of persuasion to exert on a man like you. I think I can suggest an improvement. Miss Hardwick, as I think you know, received a dose of datura poison calculated to produce death within seven days. What is the matter?” he added quickly as The Phantom winced and touched his left shoulder. “Ah! You have been wounded!”
“Only a scratch,” said The Phantom coolly, despite the sharp twinges that now and then shot through the injured shoulder. “What about Miss Hardwick?”
“As I said, the injection she received was calculated to kill within seven days. As you know, if you read the accounts of Virginia Darrow’s death, the dose can be so adjusted as to produce death in a much shorter time—say fifteen minutes or half an hour. Doctor Tagala, who is a very fascinating gentleman, explained the method to me very carefully.”
“I don’t quite see——” began The Phantom, an uneasy flicker in his eyes; but Starr had already turned to his lieutenant.
“Slade,” he crisply commanded, “in one of the drawers of the desk in the laboratory you will find several bottles of datura poison. Bring me one of those marked ‘Series A.’ Fetch a hypodermic syringe, too, and be quick about it.”
Slade withdrew. A horrifying suspicion was entering The Phantom’s mind. Starr’s methods were subtler and far more frightful than his subordinate’s.
“You look faint,” observed Starr with a glance at The Phantom’s face. A trace of sarcasm edged his words. “I’m afraid the wound is very painful. Too bad Doctor Tagala isn’t here to treat it.”
The Phantom was about to reply, but just then Slade returned and handed his superior a syringe and a small bottle containing a dark liquid. Starr studied the label for a moment.