Tarrano barely moved. "So? You tell me he was asleep at the mirrors, Argo?"
"Master, I could not help it! Since first you made your move in Greater New York at Park Sixty, I have sat there. Two nights and a day——"
"And you fell asleep without asking for a relief?"
"Master, I——"
"Did you?"
"Yes. I did not realize I was sleeping——"
A gesture to Argo, and the man was flung closer to Tarrano's feet. Elza shrank away.
"Left a mirror unattended. So?... The wire, Argo." He took the length of wire, gleaming white-hot, as the leering, gloating Argo turned the current into it—Tarrano took it, lashed it upon the poor wretch's naked back and legs. Welts arose, and the stench of burning flesh. A measured score of the passionless strokes made him writhe and scream in agony.
It turned Elza sick and faint. Shuddering, she crouched there, hiding her face until the punishment was over and the half-unconscious culprit was carried away.
"Very gentle with you, my Elza...."