"What's in that bottle, Slim?"
"A black cap for you, damn you! Pure vitriol!"
He bent closer.
"Squirm! Those ropes and your own handcuffs will hold you. You'll beg me for a bullet before I'm through."
George twisted the girl so she had to watch.
"Pipe your handsome beau, Nora! You'll think I'm more your style in about ten seconds."
She shuddered.
"You're not bad enough to do that, Slim!"
"Watch me," he answered.
A complete satisfaction blotted from his eyes the fear he had hitherto never quite concealed—the quiet fear of a strong man who acknowledges his own inevitable destiny. Garth reminded him of that. It was his last weapon.
"They'll get you, Slim. They're keeping the chair warm for you. Will this help then?"
Slim laughed.
"Will it hurt? I've waited for this moment ever since you and she sent me to rot in the Tombs. I'll pay old scores while I can."
With an extreme deliberation he commenced to tip the bottle. The fluid, almost imperceptibly approaching the mouth, exercised for Garth a dreadful fascination. It was easy to estimate its progress. George had been right. In about ten seconds! And he couldn't get his chained hands to his eyes. He tried to tell himself it was impossible that that innocent-appearing fluid in the control of
