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  "Out the door!" he cried. "Quickly! This building will collapse any minute!"

  Nita moved toward the door, trying to open it with her bound hands, but her eyes riveted with an awful fascination on the robot. It swung a great arm about to bring the gun to bear again. It took a stride, and the silken line drew taut about its ankles. Nita saw the silk draw thin, saw a strand snap! But the other wrappings held, and the stride was only half-completed.

  At the same instant, behind the monster, Wentworth thrust up both his automatics and emptied them in a swift drum-roll against the back of the creature's head. The lead would not penetrate, but each one struck with the force of a half-ton. Combined with the hobbling silk about its ankles, the blow was enough. The robot tottered, tried to keep its balance, and pitched violently forward to the concrete floor!

  It was an incredible spectacle, the fall of that giant, like the death of some great redwood, pierced by the lumberman's saw. Under the impact, the concrete floor cracked like ice, and fragments of grey stone spun into the air. The jar loosened the timbers overhead and a great flaming beam wrenched free and speared down into the basement!

  Nita had the door open now, and she called out to Wentworth, but he stood by the fallen monster. He was bending over the helmet which his bullets had battered.

  "Hurry, Dick!" Nita called. "He may be stunned by the fall, but it's no more than that. Come on, before he revives!"

  Instead of answering, Wentworth flung himself suddenly astride the fallen giant, and his hands tore at the base of the helmet.

  "Get outside!" Wentworth called once more. "I'll be with you in a moment!"

  As he spoke, the helmet came loose in his hands and Nita saw the lolling head of a man. He wore a curious sort of crash helmet, but blood seeped from his nostrils and he was completely unconscious. She stared incredulously at this human being who, encased in steel, was so ponderous, so terrible. He seemed as defenseless as an oyster stripped of its shell. As she watched, Wentworth whipped up an automatic and struck once, with carefully calculated force, at the base of the man's skull. Then he raced toward her.

  In an instant, he slashed the bonds from her wrists. His arm flung about her, he sprang from the doorway to a narrow wooden walkway that skirted the black, oily waters of the slip. A hundred yards offshore, a barge piled high with gravel floated high in the water, and Wentworth's eyes raked it as he reached for a wooden ladder that led to the shore.

  "That barge!" he cried. "It floats too high in the water to be loaded like that with gravel! That's how these monsters travel! An airlock under the water would do it. No wonder I lost them in the East River!"

  Nita was sobbing, "Dick, oh Dick! I bungled things terribly, did-n't I? But I was so worried about you!"

  Wentworth laughed sharply. "On the contrary, my dear," he cried. "You have solved the case!"

  He leaped over the verge of the shore, reached down to drag Nita upward, and she looked beyond him. Her breath broke with a gasp.

  "Oh, Dick!" she cried. "Look, the police! Kirkpatrick!"

  Wentworth swore as he set her feet on dry land, threw an arm about her waist. "I should have known better than to ask that newspaper man a question without satisfying his curiosity," he said. "That's what did it! Listen, dear, go to Kirkpatrick at once, but don't mention that barge out there! Tell him everything else. Understand?"

  Nita's white face was turned toward him. "Yes, Dick, but what are you going to do?"

  Wentworth set her from him, and his laughter rang out clearly, briefly. "I'm going to smash this case wide open!" he cried softly.

  Police were running toward them now. Kirkpatrick's challenge rang out harshly. "Surrender, Spider! You're covered by a dozen guns!"

  Wentworth laughed once more. He whirled . . . and ran back toward the blazing ferry house! Nita gasped, and her hands reached out to him, and then she did a daring thing! She stepped squarely between Wentworth and Kirkpatrick, between him and the line of policemen with lifted guns. And she turned her face toward Dick!

  The ferry house was a soaring spire of flame. The angry crackling of the fire was like thunder and, even in the bitter cold, the heat struck like a mallet. Nita wavered on her feet, and suddenly Kirkpatrick was beside her. He flung a strong arm about her waist, leveled his revolver . . . and Dick was out of sight!

  "After him!" Kirkpatrick snapped out his orders. "Block that slip in case he tries to leave by water. If he wants to commit suicide in that fire . . ." His voice trailed off.

  Nita stood rigidly within the curve of Kirkpatrick's arm. She was trembling, but it was not from the cold. She had heard no splash of water after Dick had ducked over the edge of the slip. In heaven's name, had he gone back into that inferno? Nita lifted her hands to her lips.

  "I hope he escapes," she whispered. "He is a very gallant man."

  Kirkpatrick made no answer, but there was worry about the stern corners of his lips. "Surely, no man could live in that building," he muttered. "It will collapse in a moment! Back there! Get back!" As he spoke, a section of the roof crashed inward, and a flying brand flew out to hiss into the black waters. The policemen lining the banks of the slip drew back, vanquished by the heat.

  "He went inside, Commissioner!" one of them called. "He's done for!"

  Nita bit down a sob. It wasn't possible. Not Dick, who had been so strong and confident beside her a moment before! And yet . . . there had been no splash! A choked cry lifted into Nita's throat, and Kirkpatrick swore at her side. With a final, thunderous roar, the entire ferry house caved in upon itself! Afterward, there was only the twisting, lifting spirals of dark smoke and eager, exultant flames. Of the Spider, there was no sign at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Last Warning!

  NITA SCARCELY HEARD Kirkpatrick's orders as he sent men along the shore line to keep watch on the black waters. She was only vaguely aware that a cloak had been thrown about her shoulders. This disaster, after her rescue had raised her hopes so high, sapped the last of her vitality. It was only much later, when the ferry house had at last caved in upon itself, that she remembered Dick Wentworth had warned her not to mention the connection of the barge off-shore with the ferry house.

  At the memory, she glanced toward the barge—and it was gone! Frantic thoughts darted through her mind, but she dared not ask a question lest it draw attention to the fact that the barge had been there. If Dick had mentioned the barge, then he had had some plan! Slight as were her reasons for hope, Nita clung to them. She could even smile a little when Kirkpatrick came striding toward her, crisp and grave as always.

  "Two of those robots in the ruins," he said curtly. "Can't find anything else."

  "Two robots," Nita repeated after him, "but—" She bit her words off. There had been three. Perhaps that, too, she was not to tell Kirkpatrick.

  "But what?" Kirkpatrick demanded harshly.

  Nita shook her head. "I didn't know that they had been killed," she said slowly. "The Spider attacked them with some bottles, filled with gasoline I think, and wrapped in flaming cloths. But I didn't know they were enough to kill the robots!"

  Kirkpatrick uttered a sharp exclamation. "By the heavens, I believe the Spider has shown us the way!" he cried. "They used bombs like that in the Spanish Civil War . . . against tanks, you know. They might work! Heaven knows, we'll have to find something and find it fast!"

  A despair in Kirkpatrick's voice pulled Nita's attention wholly to him, and she placed a hand upon his arm. "Is it . . . very bad, Stanley?" she asked.

  Kirkpatrick's lips stretched into a thin straight line. "That hardly describes it," he said slowly. "Before we got this tip-off from a newspaper man, I had a call from the Iron Man. He said he would 'give us a lesson tonight.' Tomorrow, if the police did not voluntarily surrender their jobs to the Drexler agency, headquarters and all major officials would be destroyed!"

  "Then you've arrested Drexler at last!" Nita cried.

  Kirkpatrick shook his head heavily. He was leading her now toward
the stone archway and his parked car. "There is no evidence against him," he said curtly. "My men have been following him day and night; his books and office have been thrown open to us. There is no proof!"

  Nita's laughter was sharp and taunting. "And you say there is no place for such men as the Spider!" she said ironically. "You know the man is guilty, and you cannot arrest him even to prevent wholesale murder!"

  Kirkpatrick shook his head and stubbornness squared his jaw. "In the end, the law always wins," he said curtly. "It may muddle along, but the law always wins."

  "Thanks to the Spider," Nita said quietly. "Where is Dick, do you know?"

  Kirkpatrick glanced at her as he handed her into the rear of his police limousine. The police driver saluted respectfully, and Nita repeated her question.

  "He'll be worried about me," she insisted. "I want to communicate with him at the first possible moment."

  * * *

  Kirkpatrick's voice was impatient. "Dick left me at headquarters," he said shortly. "I don't know his whereabouts any more than I know those of the Spider. I'll drop you at your home, Nita. Meanwhile, will you kindly tell me just what happened? I might learn something that will help to trap the Iron Man and these steel monsters of his!"

  "What, without legal evidence, Kirk?" Nita asked, her voice low with mockery, while her mind raced over the events of her captivity. Dick had told her to relate everything except his suspicions regarding the barge. She began to talk rapidly, but her thoughts were not on what she said. She had not lied when she said she wished to get in touch with Wentworth at once. He must be told that the Iron Man planned to inflict a "lesson" upon the city tonight. At the thought of that, Nita felt tension crawl through her body. There was so little she, or anyone else, could do—except the Spider!

  Nita knew a new humbleness of spirit at thought of the man she loved. At such moments, he seemed more than human. His keen brain flashed always ahead to the true hidden meaning of criminal problems, and found the way to defeat them. He had needed only to glance at the high-riding barge to guess the secret of its use. Her despair of a short while before seemed a disloyalty now. Dick would not have dashed back into the building had he not a plan . . . and not a mere plan for escape. Wentworth had gone once more to battle giants!

  Nita fell silent, dropped her head gravely. Her hands were clasped hard in her lap, as if in prayer.

  "What you say doesn't help much, Nita," Kirkpatrick said. His voice sounded angry and puzzled. "If only I knew how they move under the water. Always, they seem to return to the water on the East River, yet their headquarters apparently was here! Well, we have to thank the Spider for destroying this stronghold!"

  "Instead of thanking him," Nita said, scornfully, "you will chalk up two more murders to his name. Torch murders, would you call them? And the destruction of the ferry house! Tell me, Stanley, will your legal conscience permit you to use the gasoline bombs? Or must more people die under their attacks?"

  "They are outside the law," Kirkpatrick said sternly.

  Nita sighed and turned her gaze to the road ahead. The car had left the West Side highway and was tooling along Riverside Drive.

  The high viaduct that spanned the valley at 125th Street was just ahead. She would be home soon, but how could she communicate with Dick?

  "Has it occurred to you," she asked Kirkpatrick slowly, "that perhaps this 'lesson' may be an attack on yourself? The promise of an attack later, might merely have been meant to disarm you for the present."

  Kirkpatrick nodded stiffly. "I am taking all possible precautions now," he said. "As soon as I can reach headquarters, I'll have some of those gasoline bombs prepared. . . . You must be careful, Nita. It's quite obvious that the Iron Man is intent on destroying you and . . . Dick."

  Nita smiled, and there was tenderness in the curve of her lips, and pride, too. So many monsters had tried to destroy Dick. One and all, they had been vanquished, though she admitted with a thrill of fear, that he had never fought such impregnable creatures as these men of steel. Her eyes quested longingly ahead as the limousine swung out on the viaduct. If only she could be sure that Dick was safe now. . . . Suddenly her hand gripped Kirkpatrick's arm.

  "In heaven's name, Stanley," she gasped. "Look! Look at that Fifth Avenue bus!"

  A startled oath sprang to Kirkpatrick's lips, and he leaned forward to snap an order at the driver, but it was already too late! Nita saw the things that happened as a wildly fantastic dream. The huge double-decked bus was careening wildly across the viaduct, and stretched out upon its upper deck, crushing the steel framework beneath their colossal weight, were two of the robots! Nita saw that the powerful arm of one of the monsters was stretched down into the cabin, and that a steel forefinger was pointed at the head of the frantic driver. There was no other living being aboard the bus!

  As Kirkpatrick shouted to the driver to whirl the limousine about and retreat, the bus shrieked in a furious turn and came to a halt just in front of the police car! The robots stepped to the pavement and heaved the bus over so that it blocked the viaduct. Then they turned and came toward the police commissioner's car!

  The driver barely succeeded in stopping the car before it collided with the wreckage of the bus. He was fighting now to back out of range of those two oncoming terrors. Kirkpatrick had his revolver in his fist. He opened a compartment and seized a hand grenade, but Nita knew grenades were futile.

  "Get out and run," Kirkpatrick said sharply. "I'm the one they want, Nita. I can hold them for a while!"

  "Come with me," Nita cried. "They can't move very fast, and if we can dodge their bullets, we can still get away!"

  She batted open the door on her side, but in the same instant the robot reached the car. Its steel hand smashed against the door, wedged it fast. The other robot reached through the front window as Kirkpatrick's gun blasted furiously. His futile bullets screamed off the metal of the steel talons. The driver screamed terribly through a single tearing instant. The hand clamped on his shoulder—and pulled!

  The driver's scream soared to an incredible thinness. His head had caught against the top of the door as the hand dragged him through the open window, but the hand was inexorable. The scream broke off and there was a dull snapping sound. Afterward, Nita saw a blue clad body hurtle through the air toward the railing of the viaduct and disappear into the darkness beyond.

  "Down on the floor," Kirkpatrick snapped.

  She saw his hands wrench the pin from the grenade, toss it outside. The explosion made the heavy limousine jump. It seemed to drive in her ear-drums, and immediately thereafter she heard a scream such as had pierced her brain once before—when Wentworth had smashed his flame-bomb against one of the robots.

  Cautiously, Nita lifted her head, and she saw an incredible thing! One of the robots had turned on the other, had moved up behind the steel monster while he was torturing the driver! Nita's gasp brought Kirkpatrick up from the floor. He was clutching another grenade, but his grip remained frozen. He, too, stared at the bizarre spectacle. The robot who had killed the driver was pitching forward on its face, still screaming. The second robot had stepped up behind it and seized its ankles in mighty fists . . . and lifted it clear off the pavement!

  Even as Nita watched, the viaduct quivered under the impact of the thing's fall. She saw the flooring of the viaduct crack and give way. Paving blocks disappeared through a gaping hole in the pavement . . . and the scream stopped! But the second robot was not through. It stooped above its fallen comrade, and got a new grip. She heard a slow creaking sound, as when terrific strain is put upon a hoist, and then . . . and then the robot lifted the fallen monster high over its head. A stride, another . . . and the robot went sailing through the air toward the railing! In exactly the arc that the already dead police driver had described, the steel monster hurtled through space. The crash of its fall was like the explosion of a great bomb. And the second robot turned back toward the police car.

  "I could not destroy him sooner," it said in a
booming voice. "There was no time for a battle and I had to take him unawares. I am sorry for the driver's death!"

  Kirkpatrick pushed to his feet, flung wide the door of the car and stepped courageously to the pavement. His fist was wrapped about the grenade, clenched to throw. Nita gasped, and flung herself forward to seize that wrist!

  "Don't throw!" she cried. "Don't you recognize that voice? It's . . . it's the Spider!"

  Kirkpatrick's wrist stiffened in her grasp, and the two stood staring up into the blankly unfeeling face of the steel monster. The yelp of sirens was thin in the air behind them and Nita's head whipped that way. Two Fifth Avenue buses were roaring toward them, while motorcycle police cleared a path with their sirens. A machine gun stammered from its motorcycle mount, but the bullets screamed overhead.

  "Back in the car, Commissioner!" a voice trumpeted from the police. "Give us a clear target!"