Norvell Page

“ To the Spider the police meant death just as sure as that unwavering muzzle into which he looked. For there behind him in a huddled heap across the table was another who had paid the penalty for his sins. And the brilliant, small seal of the Spider glowed like a drop of blood upon his forehead!
Yet there was nothing of all this apprehension in the Spider's voice. He must play for time and trust to his split second reflexes, his keen mind, to yank him from the closing jaws of death.
“Curiosity,” he told the masked man, “is an unpleasant thing to carry to one's grave. ”

“ The police had arrived; it could be no one else. Wentworth's body tensed for the final desperate moment. Then in the blackness of the hall, a voice roared:
“Hands up there!”
The Spider himself could not have whirled more quickly than the tall man in the doorway. Whirl and shot were instantaneous, and in the hall a man cried out hoarsely.
With a single movement of his hand, the Spider extinguished the light. In two strides he reached the window, yanked down the top casement.
No fear now that the killer would get him. Guns roared and bellowed in the hallway; lead sang and whined. ”

“ Standing there in the doorway, carelessly smoking as if guns had never whined bullets past his head, as if his swift justice had never taken life, Wentworth showed no evidence of his minutes-old tussle with death. What first impressed you about him was the remarkable physical alertness of the man. Five feet eleven, with the tapered body and light stride of an athlete, he had a keen, tanned face and the friendly interested eyes of a man who has long since learned the secret of enjoying life. ”