useful. But I shall risk it, too. Perhaps I shall lose it, for I have lost
lives, just as I have saved them. This is my promise: life, with enjoyment, with
danger, with excitement, and with money. Life, above all, with honor. But if I
give it, I demand obedience. Absolute obedience. You may accept my terms, or you
may refuse. I shall wait for you to choose."
The car rolled on comfortably through the side streets of upper New York.
The motor seemed noiseless; Harry Vincent began to understand how it had
approached him unheard upon the bridge.
He was wondering about his strange companion; this man who had whirled him
away from his fatal plunge as though his hundred and seventy pounds had been
nothing; this man who could read his thoughts and whose questions were commands.
He turned again toward the darkened corner, and hope returned to him. After
all, he wanted life. He had come to New York because he had desired to live and
to succeed. This was his opportunity. He pictured his lifeless body, beneath the
bridge, and he realized that he could make but one choice.
"I accept," he said.
"Remember then, obedience," said the voice. "That must come always. I do
not ask for cleverness, for strength or skill, although I want them, and will
expect them to the best of your ability."
There was a pause. The whispered voice seemed to echo in Vincent's ears. He
realized that there was neither approval nor surprise in the stranger's words.
Simply calmness. "You will be taken immediately to a hotel," resumed the voice.
"You will find a room reserved in your name. There will be money there. Your
requirements will be filled. You will obtain everything you want. Your bills
will be paid."
The point of a cane swung from the rear seat and tapped twice against the
windowpane behind the chauffeur. It seemed to be a signal, for the speed of the
car increased as it sharply swung a corner.
"But, remember, Harry Vincent," said the voice from the corner, "I must
have your promise. Shut your eyes for one full minute while you think on it.
Then promise, if you wish. Promise your obedience."
Vincent closed his eyes and thought. His mind cleared and life seemed to
brighten. There was but one course; that was acceptance of the stranger's terms.
He opened his eyes and again gazed at that blackened corner.
"I promise," he said. "I promise full obedience."
"Very well," came the stranger's whisper. "Go to your hotel. Tomorrow you
will receive a message. It will come from me, and my messages are meaningless
to those who should not understand them. Listen well when you receive your
message. Remember only the words which are emphasized in pronouncing like this."
There was a stressing of the last word. It seemed almost a sentence in
itself and the hiss of the stranger's whisper carried a weird, unearthly sound.
The car swerved suddenly and stopped with a jolt against the curb on the
left. An open car had forced it to the sidewalk; and the headlights of the other
automobile were glaring through the window. A figure opened the door on the
right and Vincent saw a man's head and shoulders jutting up.
"Stick 'em up!" came a rough voice. Vincent raised his hands as he saw the
glint of a revolver barrel. It was a holdup - a daring crime on this side street
of Manhattan!
Then something emerged from the darkened corner. It spread like a huge
monster of the night, a black shape that swept forward and enveloped the
