Locke's case seemed at last hopeless. The cruel ropes bit into his flesh
and increased his agony, while the acrid fumes from the seething acid
were slowly stupefying that keen brain of his.
Backward and forward like a huge pendulum his body swayed, and in an
agony of suspense he watched the fatal rope. With writhing body he
swayed far out, and then he saw just one chance.
The emissaries had thrown the rope over a beam which was far above
Locke, and it seemed an impossibility for him to reach it. For one less
resourceful or with a physique less perfectly developed, even to try
would have been useless. But there was one chance in a thousand, and he
grasped it eagerly.
Alternately contracting and relaxing his muscles, Locke succeeded in
swinging himself in an ever-widening arc. Nearer he swung--back--and
again nearer. Could he make it? Back again and a terrific effort. He was
gaining.
There came to him the sound of running feet. In his fear and agony he
could have shrieked, but from his parched throat there issued no sound.
Friend or foe, for him it meant the same fate--one touch on that knob
and a torturing death by fire.
With bursting muscles he redoubled his efforts. In a long sweep his body
swayed out and up. Would he be in time? Those pattering feet, they were
coming nearer and nearer. There were now but a few yards between them
and that knob.
A mighty swing, a monstrous heave, his fingers crooked talon-like, and
he touched the rafter, clutched--and missed.
Downward and backward, his mind now reeling in black despair. He had
tried and failed. This was the end. The sound of footsteps had ceased.
Well he knew that some one was at the door. He tried to pray and
then--he crashed against the rafter. Mechanically he grasped at it and
clung.
The door flew open, and there stood Eva. All the horrors of imminent
death, even the pain of sorely tried muscles, were momentarily forgotten
in his relief at seeing her safe and having saved himself. But not yet
was he free. The emissaries had been thorough in their work, but it was
not many moments before the last knot was loose and he dropped to the
floor.
Locke peered stealthily about. To all appearances everything was clear.
He placed his arm about Eva and they started to steal out. Well they
knew that, with such enemies, not for a moment would they dare relax
their caution. For them every angle and nook was a temporary haven.
Slowly they drew away from the dread spot, and soon came to a more
populous locality where the lights of honest shops and peaceful homes
gave them a sense of greater security and brought a feeling of unreality
to the horrors through which they had passed.
A taxi-driver hailed them, and in a short time they were rolling along
the Cliff Drive and had arrived at Brent Rock.
It was the following day that the old butler handed Locke a letter
addressed to International Patents, Incorporated, from the Diving and
Salvage Company. Locke was about to read it, when Eva entered and they
read it together.
"We are reliably informed," read the letter, "that the Under Seas
Corporation is trying to obtain possession of the self-liberating
diving-suit which you control in our interest. This must be prevented."
Locke was immediately interested. At once it occurred to him that here
was a patent which the company had suppressed which might prove of
incalculable value.
"This suit might be very valuable to the government," he exclaimed to
Eva. "I am going to try it myself."
"Please don't," pleaded Eva. "It isn't worth it. It's not worth the
risk."
Locke, however, realized that here was something of extreme importance,
and as he visualized to Eva the helplessness of a deep-sea diver, his
air-line cut, struggling in vain to release himself and rise to the
surface, he began to win her over.
At the moment when Quentin and Eva were in the library, Zita was taking
advantage and was ransacking Locke's laboratory, not with any definite
purpose in mind, but searching in every nook for some clue which might
tell her what he was about.
The speed with which she worked was extraordinary. Yet, before she moved
an instrument, a retort, a book, its position was minutely studied, so
that she could restore it to its former place without any one suspecting
that it had ever been moved.
It was while she was thus occupied that her eye fell upon an instrument
which aroused in her an excited interest. It was very like the headpiece
used by operators of telephones, and she hastened to adjust it. In a
moment it was as though she were in the library. She could hear Locke's
earnest laugh and in it Zita could detect an undercurrent of tenderness.
Her lips compressed and her eyes hardened as she listened. Locke was
speaking about a letter and it seemed to be something important. Zita
was all ears.
But Locke's next words which she heard were his decision to test the
diving-suit, and as she listened she became tense, for this information
she knew was important. The continued note of tenderness in Locke's
voice more infuriated Zita. She removed the headpiece of the dictagraph,
slammed it back into the desk drawer from which she had taken it, and
hurried out.
In the library, Locke, having persuaded Eva, left her and went down into
the Graveyard of Genius, where he touched the secret spring and the
massive door flew open. He entered the gloomy place and went at once to
the shelf upon which lay the self-liberating diving-suit. He took the
suit down and examined its every detail minutely. As he did so he became
more and more enthusiastic and he could find no fault with any of its
features.
"It's entirely practical," he exclaimed to himself. "I'm going to try it
to-day."
He closed the great door and remounted the stairs, carrying the suit
with him. But had he noticed the fiery eyes that had watched him through
the secret rock door of the cavern he would not have been so eager to
try the test he had in mind.
By this time Eva had called her car, and together Locke and Eva drove to
the near-by cove, where there was a little launch which he planned to
use.
Out into the river they sailed, Eva at the wheel, while Locke busied
himself over the sputtering engine. Soon they arrived at a spot which
was suitable for the test of the suit.
Locke had brought along the full equipment, and, while Eva took charge
of the air-pump, Locke donned the diving-suit. Soon all was ready and
Locke descended over the side, after carefully instructing Eva in each
detail. Eva started pumping, while with her other hand she carefully
paid out the air-line and signal-cord.
But in their close attention to the task in hand, neither had noticed a
low, knifelike launch that had followed them and that was now hovering a
short distance off.
Locke was now walking over the shell-strewn bottom, examining curious
objects here and there. The tide was setting in strongly and at times it
was with difficulty that he kept his feet.
He had become satisfied that this particular suit filled all the
requirements of a first-class diving-suit, and he was about to try its
special, self-liberating feature, when his attention was arrested by a
vague mass which seemingly moved against the current.
This was so extraordinary that his first thought was of a shark. He
stopped in his tracks and became motionless, for it is a well-known fact
that these sea tigers rarely see an object unless it is in motion.
Still, the vague form slowly took on more distinctness as in its course
it gradually drew nearer to him. It was then that Locke was almost
overcome with surprise. For there, groping his way toward him, was a
diver, like himself.
What was this strange being doing there on the bottom of the sea? Whence
had he come? Locke could not guess. For, like Eva, he had not noticed
the other launch. It seemed impossible to him. Still, to him, apart from
curiosity at the appearance of the other diver, the incident had no
other interest. What had he to fear from any man at the bottom of a
peaceful harbor? Locke moved nearer.
The stranger allowed him to approach, stopped, even, as though he were
himself amazed at Locke's appearance, and Locke made gestures to
reassure the man of his good intentions.
Locke was quite close now, and through the glass gate in the other's
helmet he could see his eyes. But in those eyes he could see no
responding friendliness. There was a murderous hate instead. He tried to
step back and place himself in a position for defense, but he was too
late. For, with a movement amazingly rapid for one under water, the
stranger leaped upon him, at the same time drawing a long knife. There,
under the sea, commenced a battle royal.
Locke was unarmed and so from the start was at a disadvantage. The
stranger seemed not so anxious to stab him as to come to close quarters,
and before Locke could prevent him he had done so. With his left hand he
grabbed Locke's lines, while with the other, in which was the keen
knife, he slashed murderously.
Locke tried to break his grip. But the other was not to be denied. With
one stroke he cut through both lines, pushing Locke backward and himself
springing free at the same time.
Immediately Locke's helmet filled with sea water, while the pressure
became enormous. Locke tried to hold his breath, while his hand searched
for the liberating knob. He gave it one twist. It worked perfectly.
Locke's suit, including the helmet, simply opened and fell from him.
Propelled as much by the pressure that the water exerted as by his own
powerful strokes, Locke shot to the surface.
The day was perfect and the bay was calm. For a few seconds Locke
floated, drawing the air into his starving lungs. Then he raised himself
and gazed about him. At first glance everything seemed the same except
for the fact that, whereas before his own boat had been alone, there
were now two. Then Locke heard an agonizing call for help--from Eva.
After he had gone over the side of their launch Eva was naturally very
intent upon keeping him plentifully supplied with air. He had been down
some time before, glancing about, she had spied the other launch. But at
the time she had thought little of it. For her, all thought of danger
was centered on the man who was now risking his life many fathoms
beneath her from pure motives of patriotism.
It was only, some minutes later, when she heard the grating of another
boat against the side of her own that she realized that she herself
stood in danger. But even at that moment her thoughts were of Quentin,
who now for the first time was wholly dependent on her efforts alone.
She looked up fearfully, and what she saw fairly congealed the blood in
her veins. Directing a murderous emissary to board Eva's launch, in the
cockpit of the other boat stood the Automaton!
Not for an instant did Eva cease her efforts at the pump. But she
shrieked with terror again and again. Now, to add to that terror, the
pressure on the air-pump suddenly ceased. From the depths myriads of
bubbles of air arose.
Knife in hand, the emissary leaped aboard and came toward her.
Automatically, frantically, she still turned the useless pump, while
with her free arm she tried to ward off the poised knife.
Again her shriek for help echoed across the water--and this time her
call was answered.
Had she gone mad? The voice that answered her was the voice of the man
she loved. Her brain reeled and she fell at the feet of the murderous
thug.
Other cries, then shouts were now heard, for some fisher folk were
putting out off shore to discover what all the tumult was about.
The Automaton made a hasty gesture to the emissary, who sprang back from
his victim and leaped to his own launch, where, with his assistance,
there was barely time to haul aboard the chief thug, who had been sent
below to attack Locke. The launch cast off and with ever-increasing
speed headed down the river.
Locke was the first to arrive and climb over the side of the boat.
Dripping though he was, he took Eva in his arms and bathed her face,
while by this time other craft arrived and friendly hands did all they
could to care for them both.
It was some minutes before Eva was restored and all headed again to the
shore, eager to help Locke.
As he assisted Eva to land, and they waited for a carriage, Locke
hastily offered a boatman a liberal reward for the discovery of the
precious diving-suit, for it had been his intention to present the
patent to the government.
Meanwhile some strange things had happened. Paul and his father had
quarreled over money, over De Luxe Dora, over Paul's manner of life and
his ill luck in winning Eva's affections.
At the same time Dora had become more insistent in her demands for money
to meet her extravagances, and Paul conceived an idea of selling one of
the patents to a rival company. Strange to say, it had been the
self-liberating diving-suit and the rival company was the Under Seas
Company.
All this took place some time after the disappearance of the Automaton
and his precious crew.
Some hours later that evening a telephone message came for Locke from
the boatman that the diving-suit had been recovered and was being held
by him.
Locke replied that he would be down in an hour. But during that hour
other strange things occurred. For no sooner had the boatman hung up his
receiver than a pleasant voice hailed him and he left his house to
investigate. It was Paul Balcom.
It was in a clever, insinuating, affable manner that Paul approached the
real object of his visit. His appeal was cleverly worded, cleverly
presented. The sole object was to awaken the poor boatman's cupidity.
The sum mentioned, no less a sum than five thousand dollars, would mean
luxury to the poor man. And all for what? Simply to call up a stranger,
a Mr. Locke, to tell him that the boatman demanded more money since he
had telephoned before, that the cash was to be placed by him in an old
packing-case from which a stationary engine had been removed that
morning. It was just an exchange. That was all.
"Sure I'll do that," the boatman told Paul, and Paul, smiling craftily,
gave him his hand to seal the bargain.
The boatman went back to his quarters and again called Brent Rock,
making his new demands. Locke was tremendously indignant, but he wanted
the suit quickly to prevent its falling into unscrupulous hands. He
agreed and immediately started for the dock.
The boatman turned from his telephone and, picking up the suit, regarded
it curiously. "Five thousand dollars," he muttered. "Five thousand
dollars." And he shook his head wonderingly.
He was standing near an open window and was commencing to fold the suit
preparatory to taking it to the end of the dock where lay the
engine-case, when, without the slightest warning, three emissaries of
the Automaton, who had appeared just a moment before on the dock, leaped
through the window and felled him to the floor. He struggled feebly, but
it was no use, and a final blow left him unconscious.
The emissaries next grabbed the diving-suit and left hurriedly by the
way they had come. But they had not completed what it was they sought to
do.
The old boatman was not as badly hurt as it seemed and was able to drag
himself across the floor with just strength enough to pull the telephone
from the table and call Brent Rock. Then as weakness again overcame him
he managed to blurt out a message to Eva, who answered.
"Don't let Mr. Locke come to the dock," he managed to gasp. "He'll be
killed." Then he collapsed and fainted.
Eva tried frantically to get the boatman again on the wire, but it was
useless. Quickly a plan formed in her mind.
If she could only intercept Locke before he reached the dock!
She dashed out to the garage, realizing that it was almost hopeless,
since Locke had been gone some time. Hoping against hope, she jumped
into her speedster and swung out and down the road.
The fact was that even as she sped along toward the cove Locke was
passing the arched gate of the dock.
He called at the boatman's little shack. Of course there was no reply.
To all appearances it was deserted. Thinking to find him at the very end
of the dock where he had been told to place the money, he proceeded to
the engine-case.
He was slightly surprised at not finding the boatman there, but as that
was no part of the agreement it engaged his attention for only a moment.
He started to withdraw the money from his pocket, groping at the same
time to see if the diving-suit was actually in the case.
He was bending over when suddenly there was a rush of men behind him and
a blackjack in the hands of one of the ruffians just missed his head.
He fought, but their numbers were overwhelming. Like a pack of wolves
they pulled him down.
Locke was quickly bound with ropes and forced into the engine-case. The
cover was put on and they nailed it down solidly. To make it doubly sure
this time the case was then lashed with ropes and they were knotted.
Next the emissaries carried the case to a sloping landing stage,
preparatory to casting it into the river.
It was at this moment that Eva came running down the dock in wild search
to intercept Locke. Wide-eyed, in the moonlight, she paused at what she
saw.
The emissaries had given the packing-case its final shove. Scraping, it
slid down the incline and toppled overboard. There was a great splash as
it struck the water and immediately began to sink in the depths.
The engine exhaust had evidently protruded from the case, as there was a
hole in its side slightly larger than a man's hand. To Eva's horror,
though she had half expected it, she saw actually a hand thrust forth
from this hole as if waving frantically.
The box sank lower as it rapidly filled with water.
Eva knew not what to do. Instinctively she knew that it was Locke. It
was as though he had waved a last farewell.
Only the hand now showed above the surface. Finally that, too,
disappeared beneath the waves.
Despairingly she turned to see if there was anything on the dock with
which she might help Locke--and she saw the Automaton himself advancing
from the shore toward her. She turned. The emissaries on the other end
of the dock cut off any chance in that direction.
Without a moment's hesitation Eva poised herself a moment on the edge of
the dock and leaped far out into the blackness of the river.