Norvell Page

“ He crouched and snarled suddenly, whirling toward Wentworth, helpless in his shackles of steel—“a pity you must die.”
Slowly, while Nita watched with horror- widened eyes, he drew from his pocket the automatic she had tried to snatch.
“You were right, Wentworth,” he said. “I only wanted the girl here so I could kill her with you. There was just the slightest chance that you might have struck some trail that pointed to me and confided your suspicions to her.
“But—” the gloating laughter cackled out, “—the Black Death leaves only dead behind. There will be no tales told.” ”

“ Holding Nita helpless, the man turned the blank face of his mask to Wentworth.
“And the Spider gives evidence of human emotion,” he mocked. “Imagine the Spider, the great altruist, being swayed by mere jealousy!”
Wentworth's face was disdainful, and in his eyes Nita caught a gleam that gave her hope. But it was only for a moment. Dick was courageous beyond all men she knew, but bravery could not break those gleaming shackles of steel that held him prisoner.
“Just a muscle-man,” the Spider jeered, “a fool sleeping in the King's bed, pretending to be the Black Death. ”

“ The masked man did not even turn his head. The softness was gone from his voice now and it grated harshly like rusty iron.
“You are hardly in a position, my dear, to make promises. It is I who shall dictate, you who shall obey. ”