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Attic > The Spider: Wings of Black Death

by Grant Stockbridge

The Spider Magazine, December, 1933

Richard and Nita must stop a mad-man from unleashing the Black Death plague on New York.

The Wings of the Black Death hovered over plague-stricken New York-- and Richard Wentworth gambled life itself to save the city which cursed his name--fighting a desperate struggle against the vicious, twin attacks of the law and the underworld!

The Spider Returns

Richard Wentworth, immaculate in evening attire, wandered with swift, deceptive carelessness among the night blackened shrubs, stealing away from the Police Commissioner's stately mansion. Behind him rang the gay laughter of society at play, but in Wentworth's eyes was only grimness and an alert watchfulness.

If those revelers knew as he did the fearful skeleton that leered at their feast, their laughter would turn to screams of horror!

Suddenly Wentworth checked his advance, halted behind the spire of an arborvitae. He merged with its shadow, quick hands turning up satin lapels to hide the white glimmer of his shirt. Just beyond the tree loomed the pacing figure of a policeman swinging a nightstick. But without pause, or glance toward the arborvitae, the bluecoat plodded on with heavy, heedless feet.... He would never know the Spider had passed in the night.

A wry smile twisted Wentworth's mouth as he catfooted on. This man was a guardian of the law. Because justice must wait on such men, Wentworth tonight had turned his back upon gayety; leaving the side of the woman he loved, to grope through the vicious underworld in hopes of grappling with that mocking skeleton at the feast; risking his life once more that the tentacles of crime might be kept from the throat of the city. Because of this, Wentworth tonight again became the Spider!

Silently as his namesake, the Spider sped on. A four foot wall of stone blocked his path. He rested his hands lightly on it and vaulted clear. A moment later he appeared beside a Lancia limousine parked at the curb. The chauffeur turned a turbaned head, and white teeth flashed in a dark face.

"Sahib," he murmured.

"To the address that you know, Ram Singh," Wentworth ordered and sprang into the back.

The auto muttered smoothly away, and, drawing the curtain, Wentworth fingered a button under the left side of the seat. The entire section--cushioned back, seat and all--swung forward. The back revolved and a neatly hung rack of clothes was disclosed by a small shielded light.

Wentworth's movements were deft. Off came the tail coat, stiffly exact shirt, collar, tie. He quickly donned a dark tweed suit, set jauntily on his black hair a dark fedora whose brim shadowed his eyes. He strapped beneath his arm a compact kit of chrome steel tools. At another touch of the button, the seat swung back into place, and the Spider was ready.

Price: $4.95

Format: Electronic PDF File
60 Pages
First Published: 1933

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