That's it.
Now just help me get this man a little away from the table! Good! Now, tie
him up. No, bring over the chair. Tie him in that chair. Gently. That's
all right. Whew!"
"You're hurt," said Jack.
Darrow touched his forehead.
"A bump," he said briefly. "Well, Jack, my son, we've done it!"
"You don't mean to say--" cried Jack.
Darrow nodded.
"Now, my friend," he addressed the huddled figure in the chair, "the game
is up. You are caught, and you must realize it." He surveyed the captive
thoughtfully. "Tell me, who are you?" he added. "I should know you, for
you are a great discoverer."
The old man stared straight at his interlocutor with his expressionless
eyes, behind which no soul, no mind, no vitality even seemed to lie.
Darrow asked him several more questions, to which he received no replies.
The man sat like a captured beast.
"I'm sorry," said Darrow to Jack. "I should like to have talked with him.
Such a man is worth knowing; he has delved deep."
"He'll talk yet, when he gets over his grouch," Jack surmised.
But Darrow shook his head.
"The man is imbecile," he said. "He has been mentally unbalanced; and his
disorder has grown on him lately. When I drove back his wrist just now the
cord snapped in his brain."
Jack turned to stare at the captive.
"By Jove, I believe you're right!" said he at last.
Darrow was standing looking down on the deal table.
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