rarely used, threading up beside the shafts.
And on the ground floor within fifty yards of the man at the switchboard, a chuckle came from the masked lips of a red-robed figure who stood straight and tall in a red-lit room.
Across the street the man with the binoculars suddenly picked up the phone again.
"Damn it—they tricked us. Somebody took the money in on the sixty-third floor!"
Changed orders vibrated through the great building. And the red-robed figure in the room at the heart of the maze chuckled again—and moved toward the bench.
Doctor Satan picked up one of the dolls remaining there. It was the image of Kessler. He placed it on the iron plate, which was already heated by the wires trailing from the socket. He watched the little doll broodingly.
It writhed and twisted as the heat melted its wax feet. It fell to the plate. And from the street, far away, sounded a horrible scream.
Doctor Satan's head jerked back as if the shriek were music to his ears. Then, once more, his hissing chuckle sounded out.
"For disobeying commands, my friend," he muttered. "But I knew you'd be obstinate enough to try it"
He stopped. For a second he stood as rigid as a statue swathed in red. Then, slowly, he turned; and in his coal-black, blazing eyes was fury—and fear.
There was an inner door to the developing-room. But the door was locked, and it still stood locked. It had not been touched. Neither had the outer door. Yet in that room with the red-robed figure was another figure now. That of Ascott Keane.
He stood as rigid as Doctor Satan himself, and stared at his adversary out of steel-gray, level eyes.
"It seems we are alone," Keane said slowly. "Bostiff, I suppose, is retrieving the money from Kessler. And Girse? Where is he?"
Doctor Satan's snarl was the only answer. He moved toward Keane, red-swathed hands clenching as he came. Keane stood his ground. Satan stopped.
"How" he grated.
"Surely you do not need to ask that," said Keane. "You must have penetrated the secret of transferring substance, including your own, from one place to another by sheer power of thought."
"I have not!" rasped Doctor Satan. "Nor have you!"
Keane shrugged. "I am here."
"You discovered my hiding-place and hid here while I was out, a short time ago!"
Keane's smile was a deadly thing. "Perhaps I did. Perhaps not. You can provide your own answer. The only thing of importance is that I am here"
"And shall stay here!" Doctor Satan's harsh voice rang out. The fear was fading from his eyes and leaving only fury there. "You have interfered in my plans once too often, Keane!"
As he spoke he raised his right hand with the thumb and forefinger forming an odd, eery angle.
"'Out of the everywhere into the here,'" he quoted softly. "I have servants more powerful than Girse, whom you destroyed, Ascott Keane. One comes now—to your own destruction!"
As he spoke, a strange tensity seized the air of the dim room. Keane paled a little at the blaze in the coal-black eyes. Then he stared suddenly at a spot in thin air to Doctor Satan's right.
Something was happening there. The air was shimmering as though it danced
