Norvell Page

“ For the Master of the Plague had not rested content with the toll at the Gainsborough estate. Once more the loathsome, strangling fingers of disease had clutched a family, and a millionaire's child had died with its nurse and mother. White-faced, Wentworth faced the conviction that daily, even hourly, the criminal was sending out his warnings, and where they failed, sending another message that carried with it death by diabolic torture.
And the Spider's sole clue to the Black Death was now in police hands—Virginia Doeg. ”

“ Wentworth slowly drew a cigarette and ignited it with a minute rasp of his lighter. He knew a different answer to this atrocity. He knew the Black Death had murdered the police and left the girl alive because Virginia Doeg was bait for the Spider, bait for a death trap into which he hoped to lure the one enemy he feared. ”

“ The vanity of the Black Death would lead him to make just such a gesture toward his prisoner, to supply the particular brand of cigarettes the prisoner liked; or perhaps—Wentworth's eyes narrowed—perhaps this was the thread with which the Master of the Plague hoped to draw the Spider into his trap.
Wentworth shook his head sharply. No, it was too slender for that. Something more obvious, more certain of detection would have been employed.
But what to do now? He was in a fashionable neighborhood. Expensive and elaborate apartment houses raised their lofty crowns on every side. ”

“ Yet there was a chance the Plague Master was not yet ready, that the hair-trigger spring of the trap did not yet await his cautious foot.
Once more a grim smile played across his mouth. Others had trapped the Spider, and found it a dangerous pastime. He descended the fire escape ladder that led down past the window of the apartment where lurked the Black Death.
Yet even in that he exercised care an ordinary man would not have thought of. ”

“ The Spider kills only crooks, and he has never been known to do anything for the money in it.”
Kirkpatrick leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk, drumming with the fingers on one lean hand, his eyes still unwavering.
“Granted.” he said. “I, too, find it hard to believe. Yet the Spider killed two of my men.”
The smile left Wentworth's face. He too, leaned forward tensely.
“For which I have sworn vengeance,” he said sharply. “And that is why I am here. Take me to see this girl who last night saw the Spider. Perhaps I can get some useful information from her.” ”

“ Kirkpatrick asked.
Wentworth nodded with a smile.
“The Spider, it seems,” he said casually, “goes about his business as mysteriously as ever.”
Kirkpatrick shook his head jerkily. “I mean the late editions of the afternoon papers,” he explained.
More of the Black Death?” Wentworth's mouth thinned.
“Yes,” said Kirkpatrick slowly. “Old man Biltland himself has got it. Much good his millions will do him now. There are more of them every hour. Heaven only knows where this thing will end. ”

“ It was near the closing hour when finally he strolled into a small tobacconist's shop on upper Madison Avenue, purchased a pack of Dimetrios himself and fell into casual conversation with the clerk.
“Not many people buy these, I suppose,” he said. ”