The strange characters of the cryptic message were a blood red hue. They were vivid and mysterious beneath the oval light of the desk lamp.
“A dead man’s message!”
Reynold Barker looked about him as he spoke. The silence of his gloomy surroundings worried him. His fingers trembled. The paper crinkled. Even that slight sound was startling.
The dark-paneled walls of the room were oppressive to Reynold Barker. He felt that he was in their grip; that he could never leave them. He was in Theodore Galvin’s study — the spot that had been his goal for seven days. He had found the paper in the secret drawer of the desk — the exact place where Galvin had told him it would be. But the silence of this sullen chamber was maddening. It brought back recollections of those dying eyes — Galvin’s eyes.
Barker steadied his nerves with mighty effort. He tried to laugh. It was excitement, he told himself. Shakiness following those long airplane hops from South America. He stared at the paper. His lips forced a smile as he comprehended its meaning.
A sudden gurgle came from Barker’s throat. Hands from the dark had gripped his throat! He dropped the paper and sought to break the throttling hold. He could not. His own hands were feeble. The clutching fingers tightened — choking, choking, choking! Reynold Barker’s brain was whirling. His eyes were bulging, but unseeing. He heard a roaring in his ears — louder than the thrum of an airplane motor. Then came blackness, sickening blackness, more terrible than the shadowy darkness of that sinister room! Again, the strangling hands were tightening…