ONE hour later, John Warwick was pacing the floor of the big living room in the residence of The Spider on American Boulevard.
Silvia Rodney was closeted with her uncle in his den on the upper floor of the house. Warwick was nervous. He dreaded his coming interview with the supercriminal, which he knew he would be forced to hold as soon as Silvia came down the stairs.
"Feel like an ass, what?" Warwick told himself. "Might be a silly college youth, and all that sort of thing! Peculiar how some things work out in this old world! Never seem to know what is going to happen next. My word!"
He paced the floor for nearly another half an hour, consuming cigarette after cigarette; and then a radiant Silvia came down the stairs and rushed into his arms.
"Everything is all right, John," she said. "And you are to go up immediately and see him."
"Think I'd better take a gun along?" Warwick asked.
"Your jolly old uncle might turn violent, you know – me capturing his pet and only niece, and all that sort of thing. Might decide to have revenge, or something like that."