As he turned his face upward the floor seemed to lift, and his eyes were blinded by an intense glare.
It was as if an electric globe had suddenly been uncovered in his face, and the light was so strong that he fell back, blinking his eyes like an owl.
The glare vanished as suddenly as it came into being, but when he looked again he caught sight of a little ball burning in one corner of the trap.
It sent out a singular odor, not unpleasant, but enervating, and the detective’s system seemed to yield to its influence from the first.
“The accursed thing is the death agent which may have killed Newell!” he cried, as he sprang forward and set his foot on the burning ball.
At that moment an explosion occurred, the interior of the dungeon seemed to collapse and Carter became unconscious.
Perhaps the end had come.
When the detective came out of the darkness of doom, as it were, he was lying on his face.
In a moment he staggered up and put out his hands.
They touched a wall as hard and cold as the one they had touched last.