here was an instant of shocked silence. An expression grim and furious crossed the giant bandit's face.
"So this is it? Hans, careful—hold him!"
Jetta was still in her room, silent now. I heard Spawn's voice, close at hand in the patio.
"De Boer! Careful!" It was the most cautious of half-whispers.
Abruptly someone reached for my chest; jerked at the electrode; tore its fragile wires—the tiny grids and thumbnail amplifiers; jerked and ripped and flung the whole little apparatus to the garden path. But it sang its warning note as the wires broke. Up in Great New York Hanley knew then that catastrophe had fallen upon me.
For a brief instant the crestfallen bandit mumbled at what he had done. Then came Spawn's voice:
"Got him, De Boer? Good!"
Triumphant Spawn! He advanced across the garden with his heavy tread. And to me, and I am sure to De Boer as well, there came the swift realization that Spawn had been hiding safely in the background. But my detector was smashed now. It might have imaged De Boer assailing me: but now that it was smashed, Spawn could act freely.