“All right, Miss Drew. . . . Now we wait.”
For what seemed like an eternity, they stayed as they were: Nancy with her hands on her head, Dr. Riggs with the gun pointing at her heart. Desperately, Nancy tried to think of a way out, but no plan came to her. The gun had her spellbound.
Finally, she couldn’t stand the tension any longer. “What are you going to do with me?” she whispered. “Lock me in the sauna again?”
Dr. Riggs smiled. “Ah! So you know I was the one who did that!”
“Of course. I had to slip past your office that night. You saw me, I guess, and followed me to the locker room.”
“Correct. Too bad you managed to escape that time. Now I’ve got to find another way of killing you.”
Just then, Nancy heard the door behind her open. It closed again quickly.
“You’re here!” Dr. Riggs beamed. “About time. Grab her.”
A powerful pair of hands seized her from behind. Nancy struggled, but it was no use. In seconds her arms were pinned to her sides.
She had already guessed what was coming next. Dr. Riggs went to his medicine cabinet and soaked a handkerchief with chloroform. When he applied it to her mouth and nose, she was surprised at how much it stung—her throat felt like it was on fire!
“That’s it . . . breathe deeply. It’s quicker that way!”
Slowly, time began to distort. Nancy felt her struggling grow weaker, her eyelids grow heavy. It was like sinking backward into a pool, she decided . . . a deep, black pool. . . .
Chapter Eighteen
When Nancy came to she was still in Dr. Riggs’s office. Dr. Riggs was missing, but the guy who had seized her from behind was not. As she brought him into focus, blinking, he smiled. He was holding the revolver.
“Feeling better?” he asked. His voice was like sandpaper, and his tall, thin frame looked whipcord strong.
Nancy didn’t answer. She was afraid that if she tried to speak, she would be sick. She closed her eyes again.
“Not feeling too talkative, I guess. Can’t say that I blame you.”
For a minute, nothing happened. Nancy simply let the fog of semiconsciousness drift through her mind. What was happening? Where was Ned? They were supposed to be going out on a date tonight, weren’t they? The movies, maybe, or—
No!
The truth, when it hit, was sharp as an electric shock. This was no date. This was a very dangerous situation. She was in the hands of criminals. She was probably going to die!
Little by little, she forced herself to wake up. Opening her eyes, she took stock. Her location? She was lying on the examination table: bad. The guy with the gun? He was leaning against the desk, watching her: also bad. Bess and George? Oh, yes, they were on a wild goose chase in the student union . . .
. . . very, very bad!
It all added up to not very much in her favor. Groggily, she sat up and swiveled around so that she was perched on the edge of the examination table. Yes, that was better.
“You’re Frank, aren’t you?” she said.
The guy looked startled. “How did you know my name?”
“I heard Captain Hook use it on the phone,” she explained.
“Oh, him. Stupid jerk. He shouldn’t have used it to help him make his bet. Just got himself into trouble in the end.”
Some trouble! He had been beaten until he was unconscious!
“Where’s Dr. Riggs?” Nancy asked next.
Frank said nothing.
“Don’t bother, I think I know,” she continued. “He’s at the hospital finishing the job on Mike—the job you started to do this afternoon on the roof!”
“Don’t know how he survived that fall,” Frank said, shaking his head in puzzlement. “I was sure it would kill him!”
That confirmed it. Now Nancy was positive about the “important business” Mike had wanted to take care of that morning—he had tried to tell Dr. Riggs that he was backing out of the point-shaving scam, and Dr. Riggs had ordered Frank to shut Mike up—permanently!