"You have a little over an hour in which to contemplate your total
extinction, an extinction which will remove from my path the one great
obstacle to my domination of the world. I hope you will enjoy your
remaining moments. In order to help you to enjoy them, and to realize
the futility of human endeavor, I have placed the key of your shackles
on the floor here in plain sight, but, alas, out of your reach. I
would like to stay and watch your struggle, to see the self-control on
which you pride yourself vanish, and to watch you whimper and pray for
the mercy you would not find; but I am deprived of that pleasure. I
must take personal charge of my men to be sure that there is no slip.
Good-by, Doctor, we will never meet again, I fear."
* * * * *
"We will meet again, Saranoff," said Dr. Bird in even tones of cold
ferocity which made even Saranoff shiver. "We will meet again, and
when you whimper and beg for mercy, remember this moment!"
The Russian started forward with an oath, his hand raised to strike.
He recovered himself and essayed a sickly smile.
"I will remember, Doctor," he said in a voice which, despite himself,
had a tremor of fear in it. "I will remember--_when_ we meet again."
He ran lightly up the stairs and Dr. Bird heard the floor close above
him. With a grunt, he bent down and examined his shackles closely.
They were tight fitting and made of hardened steel. A cursory
examination showed the doctor that he could neither force them nor
slip them. He turned his attention to the key which Saranoff had
pointed out. It lay on the floor, about ten feet, as nearly as he
could judge, from where he stood.
He knelt and then stretched himself out at full length on the floor.
By straining to the uttermost, his groping fingers were still six
inches from the key. Saranoff had calculated the distance well.
Convinced that he could not reach the key by any effort of stretching,
Dr. Bird wasted none of his precious time in vain regrets or in
useless efforts to accomplish the impossible. He rose to his feet and
calmly took stock of the room, searching for other means of freeing
himself. The shackles themselves offered no hope. He searched his
pockets. The search yielded a pocket knife, a bunch of keys, a
flashlight, a handkerchief, a handful of loose change, and a wallet.
He examined the miscellany thoughtfully.
* * * * *
A light broke over his face. He tied one end of the handkerchief to
the knife and again took a prone position on the floor. Cautiously he
tossed the knife out before him. It fell to one side of the key. He
drew it back and tried again. The knife fell beyond the key. Slowly he
drew it back toward him by the handkerchief. When it reached his hand,
he saw to his joy, that the key was a good inch nearer. With a lighter
heart, he tried again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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