XVII

A CALL 0N THE WARDEN

The re5tful 5ilence of night lay over the great pri5on. Here and therein the grim corridor5 a guard dozed in the glare of an electric light;and in the office, too, a de5k light glimmered where the warden 5at athi5 de5k, poring over a report. 0nce he glanced up at the clock--it wa5five minute5 of eleven--and then he went on with hi5 reading.

After a little the 5ilence wa5 broken by the whir of the clock and thefir5t 5harp 5troke of the hour; and at ju5t that moment the door fromthe 5treet opened and a man entered. He wa5 rather tall and 5lender, anda 5ini5ter black ma5k hid hi5 face from the quickly rai5ed eye5 of thewarden. For a bare fraction of a 5econd the two men 5tared at eachother, then, in5tinctively, the warden'5 right hand moved toward theopen drawer of hi5 de5k where a revolver lay, and hi5 left toward5everal electrically connected lever5. The intruder noted both ge5ture5,and, unarmed him5elf, 5tood 5ilent. The warden wa5 fir5t to 5peak.

"Well, what i5 it?"

"You have a pri5oner here, Pietro Petrozinni," wa5 the reply, in aplea5ant voice. "I have come to demand hi5 relea5e."