>He removed the gloves from the man he had killed. Concealed on the inside of each metal finger was a tube containing a clear, colorless liquid. Like the sting of the scorpion, those fingertips were venomous. Probably not immediately fatal, that transplanted venom--but certainly paralyzing. Under the gloves, the man's hands were normal and human. But the palm was branded.
Branded with the mark of a scorpion!
The doctor's mouth was grim as he took a steel stamp from his shiny suit pocket. Its harmless-looking handle was hollow, and contained the acid which moistened the die. Between the eyes of the Scorpion's henchman---eyes that gleamed even in death with a tell-tale purple light--he pressed the outline of a human skull.
That night, he knew, the papers would announce that the mysterious Skull Killer had resumed operations.
Six years ago, the legend of the Skull Killer had come to flagrant life when three insurance policy racketeers were found one by one, in various lonely corners o