“Correct,” he murmured. “It’s fortunate Doctor Tagala taught me how to use a syringe. In a few moments Miss Hardwick will have received a second dose of datura poison—one that will kill her inside half an hour unless Doctor Tagala should administer the restorative in the meantime.”
A cry broke from The Phantom’s lips. The severe pain in the shoulder, together with the terrifying realization that had just flashed through his mind, made him suddenly dizzy. He leaned weakly against the wall. In the same instant Starr, quick to seize the opportunity, wrenched the pistol from his hand.
“This is ever so much better,” he murmured elatedly. “I think you will be willing to produce Doctor Tagala as soon as I have injected the second dose of poison into Miss Hardwick’s veins. Hold him, Slade, till I come back.”
He instructed one of the other men to follow him and hurried away, but his words kept dinning in The Phantom’s consciousness. He made a strong effort to fight down the treacherous weakness that was stealing over him. He wondered why his eyes saw nothing but whirling specks and why his knees shook so. The loss of blood, he reflected, must have weakened him more than he had realized. Suddenly everything went black, and with a despairing moan he sank to the floor.
He heard Slade’s derisive laugh, but it had an unreal and far-away sound.
“Dead to the world,” muttered Slade, and The Phantom was dimly conscious that someone was bending over him. “Well, I hope for the girl’s sake that he comes to before the half hour is up.”
[CHAPTER XXII—THE PHANTOM’S RUSE]
The words had an electrifying effect on The Phantom’s nerves. Not more than a minute could have passed since Starr’s departure, and his imagination pictured the scene that soon would be enacted in Helen’s room. He strove valiantly to shake off the numbness that had been brought on him by horror and loss of blood.
Out of his half-closed eyes he saw Slade standing in a listless attitude a few feet from where he lay. Evidently he was depending on The Phantom’s unconsciousness to last a while longer, for he was idly toying with his pistol and seemed rather bored. Two of the other men were removing their wounded comrades, and for the moment no one was observing The Phantom. A sharp realization that he must act at once quickened his thoughts and stirred his energies. His mental picture of Helen and her desperate peril stimulated his reserve forces of mental and physical vigor.
Warily he glanced about him, then crawled swiftly and silently toward the point where Slade stood. Suddenly he rose to his knees and jerked the pistol from Slade’s hand. In another moment he was on his feet, stifling Slade’s loud cry for help by a blow with the weapon. Without a glance behind, he ran as fast as he could in the direction taken by Starr. His mind was already at work on a plan. A new force, more powerful than mere bodily strength, seemed to speed him on. Despite physical weariness and the sharp twinges in his shoulder, he felt as if nothing could resist him. If only there was yet time——