A great gasp went up from the thousands of spectators, and the hideous Scarab scuttled back to its lair.
Out came several attendants, to drag the remains of the man away, as they had the others, and the people waited for the next item of the ghastly program.
Chick and Patsy were gazing steadily at the proceedings from their sheltered place, and for once the latter had nothing to say. Only Chick, looking pale under the coat of tan he had acquired in the fierce heat of tropical suns, turned to Nick Carter with a husky whisper:
“What do you make of it, chief?”
The detective shook his head frowningly. He was confessedly puzzled, as well as horrified.
“I can’t tell you, Chick,” he whispered back. “I’ve seen many strange sights in the course of my life, but this beats them all. I don’t think it is mechanism. But it is an ingenious trick of some kind.”
“Well, I’d like to know what it means?” confessed Chick.
“So would I,” put in Jefferson Arnold, who had been listening to the low-voiced colloquy.