“And that wire was cut, too,” the stranger explained.

The warden came to his feet with white face, and nails biting into the palms of his hands.  He still held the revolver as he advanced upon the masked man threateningly.

“Not too close, now,” warned the intruder, with a sudden hardening of his voice.  “Believe me, it would be best for you to release this man, because it must be done, pleasantly or otherwise.  I have no desire to injure you, still less do I intend that you shall injure me; and it would be needless for either of us to make a personal matter of it.  I want your prisoner, Signor Petrozinni—­you will release him at once!  That’s all!”

The warden paused, dazed, incredulous before the audacity of it, while he studied two calm eyes which peered at him through the slits of the mask.

“And if I don’t release him?” he demanded at last, fiercely.

“Then I shall take him,” was the reply.  “It has been made impossible for you to give an alarm,” the stranger went on.  “The very men on whom you most depended have been bought, and even if they were within sound of your voice now they wouldn’t respond.  One of your assistants who has been here for years unloaded the revolver in the desk there, and less than an hour ago cut the prison alarm wire.  I, personally, cut the police alarm outside the building.  So you see!”

As yet there was no weapon in sight, save the unloaded revolver in the warden’s hand; at no time had the stranger’s voice been raised.  His tone was a perfectly normal one.

“Besides yourself there are only five other men employed here who are now awake,” the masked man continued.  “These are four inner guards and the outer guard.  They have all been bought—­the turnkeys at five thousand dollars each, and the outer guard at seven thousand.  The receipt of all of this money is conditional upon the release of Signor Petrozinni, therefore it is to their interest to aid me as against you.  I am telling you all this, frankly and fully, to make you see how futile any resistance would be.”

“But who—­who is this Signor Petrozinni, that such powerful influences should be brought to bear in his behalf?” demanded the bewildered warden.

“He is a man who can command a vast fortune—­and Senor Alvarez is at the point of death.  That, I think, makes it clear.  Now, if you’ll sit down, please!”

“Sit down?” bellowed the warden.

Suddenly he was seized by a violent, maddening rage.  He took one step forward and raised the empty revolver to strike.  The masked man moved slightly to one side and his clenched fist caught the warden on the point of the chin.  The official went down without a sound and lay still, inert.  A moment later the door leading into the corridor of the prison opened, and Signor Petrozinni, accompanied by one of the guards, entered the warden’s office.  The masked man glanced around at them, and with a motion of his head indicated the door leading to the street.  They passed through, closing the door behind them.