"Come here, Lee," he said.

Bentley was amazed at the kindliness in Barter's attitude. He dealt
with Bentley as though he had been his son. He felt that Barter
genuinely liked him. It was rather amazing. Barter liked him but would
remove him without compunction if he thought it necessary.

Bentley found he could move his feet, or rather they seemed to move of
their own volition, as he crossed the room to stand before Barter.

"I'm rather proud of what I have been able to do, Lee," went on
Barter, "and I am now entirely safe from the police. I've issued
another manifesto telling the public that for each attempt made
against me, one of the eighteen men captured by me to-day will die.
Manhattan is the abode of terror. Here, see for yourself."

He extended to Bentley what seemed to be a pair of binoculars, but
with the ear-hooks common to ordinary spectacles. He set them over
Bentley's eyes and set them in place.

"Now you can survey New York as you wish."

- - -

Bentley looked for a moment or two. Sixth Avenue was a deserted
highway, on which red and green lights blinked off and on in the usual
routine, signaling to drivers who were non-existent. There were vistas
of deserted streets and avenues. There were some few living
things--policemen in uniform, standing in pairs and larger groups, all
concentrated in an area covering no more than twenty acres, which
twenty acres included the hideout of Caleb Barter. Bentley knew that
the hideout was under Millegan Place. He had recognized it coming in.
A secret panel in a brick wall had opened to show a door where none
was apparent. Then a circular stairway leading down into darkness to
the room which Barter had gouged out of the earth and turned into a
laboratory of hell.

"See the police?" asked Barter. "They know now where I am, but they
are helpless because of my hostages. I shall now begin the operations
I believe to be necessary. Then I shall issue another manifesto,
telling the public that I am safeguarded by great apes whose ability
will prove the correctness of my theory about the possibility of
creating a race of supermen. My manifesto shall say that my apes must
not be slain. It shall say that for every ape slain by the police one
of my eighteen hostages will die."

Bentley would have gasped with horror, but he could not. Now he saw
Thomas Tyler, his face a white mask of despair, in the midst of his
helpless men.

"I'll give you a hand, someho