Maine -- Fiction; Science fiction; Seaside resorts -- Fiction; Time -- Fiction
It was a woman's body he struggled with. But there was strength in the
fragile flesh beyond the strength of any woman! It took all his steely
power to tear from her grasp the gold-link purse with its enclosed
device. As he got it, he heard the woman's shrill cry of pain and
terror, felt her sag in his arms. And then he heard many voices and
stared around like a sleepwalker who has waked in a spot different from
that in which he had begun his sleep--a comparison so exact that for one
wild moment he thought it must be true!
He was in a familiar room.... Yes, Doctor Grays' room at the Blue Bay
Hotel.
The people around him were familiar.... There was Gest. There were
Kroner and Doctor Grays, and--Beatrice. There were the Blue Bay chief of
police, and two men.
But the limp feminine form he held in his arms was Madame Sin, the fury
he had been fighting in Chichester's library! And in his hand was still
the gold link bag he had wrenched from her!
The woman in his arms stirred. She looked blankly up at him, stared
around. A cry came from her lips.
"Where--am I? Who are you all? What are you doing in my room? But this
isn't my room!"
Her face was different, younger-looking, less exotic. She wasn't Madame
Sin; she was a frightened, puzzled girl.
Keane's brain had slipped back into gear, and into comprehension of what
had happened.
"Where do you think you are?" he said gently. "And what is your name?"
"I'm Sylvia Crane," she said. "And I'm in a New York hotel room. At
least I was the last I knew, when I opened the door and the man in the
red mask came in...."
She buried her face in her hands. "After that--I don't know what
happened----"
"Nor do any of us," quavered Gest. "For God's sake, Keane, give us some
idea of what has happened here, if you can!"
* * * * *
It was over an hour later when Beatrice and Keane entered the door of
his suite. It had taken that long to explain to the people in Doctor
Grays' rooms. Even then the explanation had been but partial, and most
of it had been frenziedly and stubbornly disbelieved even though proof
was there.
Keane's shoulders were bowed a little and his face wore a bitter look.
He had thwarted Doctor Satan in his attempt to extort a fortune from the
resort. But once more his deadly enemy had got away from him. He had
failed.
Beatrice shook her head.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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