Eva flattened herself against the door at her back. She could feel and
hear Locke pounding on the other side. She thought that she would die of
sheer terror.
The Automaton raised his mighty fist, and Eva instinctively ducked under
the monster's arm. There was an inner room. Could she reach it in time?
Would the door be unlocked? At most she could only try.
The emissary tried to catch her, but she proved too quick for him. She
reached the door. It opened, and she flew into the room, slamming and
bolting it behind her.
Now she could hear the thunderous blows of the Automaton raining against
the door. One huge fist of the monster crashed through the panel. Eva
crouched down in a far corner and closed her eyes. At that instant the
time bomb exploded and the house was rocked to its foundations.
Everything was demolished. One entire side of the house was blown out.
The door leading to the workshop which a moment before Locke had been
vainly striving to open crashed full upon him and felled him,
half-stunned, to the floor.
The force of the explosion had dazed Eva. As for the Automaton and the
emissary, they had both been blown through a gaping aperture in the wall
to land in the garden beneath. Only Zita, in the lower hallway, was
totally untouched by the catastrophe.
Locke, dazed, crawled from under the door and made his way into the
demolished room in search of Eva, a cold fear gripping his heart. How
could any living thing have lived after such an occurrence? But in
another instant he saw her, as she half swooned and staggered into the
room.
"Quentin!" she gasped.
He caught her in his arms. But the next moment she remembered what she
had witnessed in the hallway below and she drew herself away from him.
"Go to the girl you really love," she scorned.
"The girl--I really love?" repeated Locke; then there ran through his
mind what had happened, as though it had been ages ago.
He protested and tried to explain. But protestations and explanations
only made matters worse, as usual. Had she not with her own eyes seen
Locke in Zita's arms?
"Eva," he persisted, manlike, "I swear that she was only trying to save
my life. I cannot help it if she--"
Locke saw that his defense was only making an innocent matter worse, and
checked himself. His mind recalled that some one had once said that a
jealous woman believes a man guilty until he proves himself innocent;
when he has proved himself innocent she merely still suspects. Eva's
manner was very constrained.
At that moment a policeman, followed by Zita, entered, and Zita, running
up to Locke, cried, anxiously, "You're not hurt--are you?"
Locke answered in an annoyed negative.
The policeman now questioned them very closely and examined the dead
inventor's body. Then he entered their names and addresses in his
note-book.
Next the officer lead the entire group down to the garden. There the
horribly injured emissary was trying miserably to crawl away.
The Automaton had totally disappeared.
Eva immediately ordered that the injured man be taken to Brent Rock in
her car. Then she turned sharply to Zita.
"How did you come to be here?" she demanded.
Zita was startled and confused. It lasted only a minute. Then, her mind
made up, she replied, defiantly:
"I came here to discover the secret of my birth. I have been told that I
am Mr. Brent's daughter."
Eva was stricken dumb with astonishment at this startling claim, but
Locke laughed outright.
"What nonsense!" he scoffed. "Eva, don't listen to it."
Zita glared at him and with a haughty nod to Eva swept out of the
garden.
Eva was still frightfully indignant with Locke and insisted on going
home alone. However, they arrived at Brent Rock at about the same time.
The emissary had been placed on a lounge in the library and a doctor was
called. The case was quite hopeless and they merely hoped to obtain a
confession before he passed away.
When Eva arrived she went directly to her father's room, but, as he was
receiving every attention from a trained nurse and she could do nothing
further to aid him, she returned to the library.
Locke, too, after changing his clothes, still wet from the water-tank on
the top of the apartment, also went to the library.
At his entrance the doctor glanced at him in a manner to indicate that
there was no hope of saving the man's life. Locke went over to examine
him. He was struck by the sly rascality of the professional criminal,
but he thought little of it at the time. He tried to question the
emissary, but, except for a labored breathing, could extract no
response.
There were voices in the hallway. For a moment the dying man showed some
signs of returning consciousness. A crafty look came over his face. What
was he contemplating?
The door opened and Balcom and his son Paul entered. Balcom walked
jauntily, but with a suavity of manner that was always his. Paul looked
at his best, except for the fact that he carried his left arm in a
silken sling.
Balcom greeted them all, and at his voice the dying man actually showed
a sort of agitation. A strong shudder seemed to pass through his body,
then, like a spring suddenly uncoiled, he sat up.
He was fully conscious now and strove to rise to his feet. It was a
tremendous effort, but he succeeded, and stood confronting Balcom, while
the ominous light of hatred that gleamed from his eyes as they
encountered those of Balcom made even that well-poised man recoil and
shudder.
With the muscles of his face working convulsively the dying thug tried
to speak. All those standing in the library realized that it was to
accuse, to denouce.
However, the effort proved too great, and with a groan that was ghastly
the man fell backward on the couch, dead.
Murdering brute that he had been, still to Eva and Locke he now
represented nothing but a stricken human being, with a human soul,
blackened and warped. But Balcom and Paul seemed to show unmistakable
signs of joy and relief. It was so evident, Locke thought, that he
turned to them.
"Your coming seemed to have an unfortunate effect," he hinted. "The man
seemed to know one of you--at least."
"Nothing of the kind," retorted Balcom, nettled.
Locke turned to Paul and regarded his injured arm questioningly. Paul,
however, never lost his accustomed aplomb.
"I was hurt in an automobile accident," he explained, though with what
seemed to be a trifle of nervousness.
Locke turned to the doctor. He was rubbing his hands, and smiling, with
great unction, an action very unbecoming, to say the least, in a medical
man who had just lost a patient. Taken all in all, Locke felt he could
now sense the web of conspiracy tightening around him. The cards were
still in the hands of his enemies.
He determined to incur any risk, to leave no stone unturned in order to
bring the criminal to justice, whoever he might be. One thing encouraged
him. The events seemed to have mollified Eva. He made an almost
imperceptible signal to Eva, who left the room to dress for the street.
Meanwhile Locke left the library and went to a private telephone that
connected the garage to the house. He ordered the chauffeur to have a
fast runabout ready for instant call. Then, at the other telephone, he
notified the coroner's office of the death of the emissary.
By this time Balcom, Paul, and the doctor came out of the library, the
doctor in high good humor, for had he not received a huge fee? He left
in his car.
Balcom and Paul, however, were slower in going, and paced the hallway in
earnest conversation. Once they came to a dead halt close to the
stairway leading down to the Graveyard of Genius. They listened
intently. Evidently they came to a decision on something, for they left
the house very hurriedly.
Immediately Locke called for the runabout. Eva came running down-stairs
and in a moment they took up the trail of the Balcom car.
It seemed as if they traveled for miles, and Locke was commencing to
think that it was merely a wild-goose chase, when Balcom's car came to a
halt in one of the lower quarters of the city, before a house that was
apparently tenantless.
To avoid discovery, Locke backed his car around a corner, got out, and
watched their movements from a safe distance.
He saw Balcom, senior, alight, but Paul did not leave the car. Locke was
in some quandary what to do. To attempt to enter the house without
Paul's seeing him and raising the alarm would, he realized, be
impossible. Therefore he waited for nearly half an hour before his
patience was rewarded by seeing Balcom come out of the house, jump into
the car, and drive off hurriedly with Paul.
Locke walked to the house and looked closely over the exterior. It was
little different from others in the same street. Then he walked
thoughtfully back to Eva and they argued pro and con about the
advisability of attempting to enter.
Locke insisted on entering alone, but Eva would not hear of it.
Therefore, it was decided that they would go in together.
When Balcom had alighted from his car half an hour before he had merely
stood for a moment in front of the door of the house when, mysteriously,
the door had opened.
There was no one in sight. But he was so familiar with the house that it
might have been his own. He descended a flight of stairs and stood
before another door, where the same door-opening process was repeated.
Balcom entered a darkened room and for a moment seemed quite alone. Then
from out the shadows, with a little half run, half lope, a strange
figure of man came toward him.
He was in reality large of frame, but stooped and bent with age. An old
frock-coat was wrapped about him. But the most remarkable things about
the man were a pair of weirdly fascinating eyes with a mad glint in them
and an enormous full beard, snow white, that fell almost to his waist.
At times the man talked rationally, in fact with the forcefulness of a
great savant. Then, abruptly, he would leave off and the rest of his
conversation was that of a babbling child. He was seldom at rest,
scampering here and there, not unlike a bird-dog on a fresh scent.
Seeking--always seeking--what?
Balcom grasped his arm in order to arrest his attention.
"Doctor Q," he addressed him, "you can have the revenge you have sought
so long. Have you prepared everything?"
The old man chuckled and wagged his head in senile fashion. Balcom
grabbed both his shoulders so that the old man was facing him, and shook
him slightly.
"Your enemies are here," he emphasized. "Have you prepared for their
reception?"
And then the haze beclouding the old man's brain seemed to pass away and
his next moments were lucid.
"Ah, it's you, Balcom. You were just saying--"
Balcom explained that Locke and Eva had tracked him and on his departure
would undoubtedly enter to investigate the place. Doctor Q, for such was
his odd name, understood now, and an evil grimace distorted his wrinkled
face.
"Let them come," he growled. "I am prepared. Why, I have even improved
certain features of the Chair of Death."
He led Balcom into an inner room where many electric bulbs were dimly
glowing. At their entrance two brutal-looking men straightened up from
their task and saluted Balcom with great deference. Then they resumed
their tasks as electricians.
"Want to see her work, sir?" one of the pair asked.
Stepping around a partition that separated the knife-switch from the
room in which stood the electric chair, Balcom watched.
The chair was of practically the same construction as the chairs used in
prisons for the supreme penalty, with electrodes to connect at the head,
arms, and legs of the man to be electrocuted.
"Stand back, sir," called one of the men as he shot the switch home.
Instantly a snapping sound was heard as the current surged through, and
the crackling sound such as the now familiar wireless makes as the long
sparks leap from pole to pole. It was Force.
A satisfied look came into Balcom's eyes and he warmly congratulated the
mad inventor, who followed him to the door and watched him as he mounted
the stairs to depart with his son.
Soon after the departure Doctor Q went to a strange-looking instrument
that seemed to have many of the characteristics of the periscope. He
pulled a lever, a panel opened, and immediately the space directly in
front of his street door was revealed to him. He stood there, watching
intently, much as a spider watches for a fly.
Soon Locke and Eva showed in the panel above. He next pressed a button
and saw the two enter. Then he went to a huge divan on the other side of
the room and whipped off a covering that was concealing some gigantic
thing beneath.
It was the Automaton, prostrate, at full length, without motion. At
least it seemed so.
The madman glanced around, and then glided into an inner room from the
larger one. He was just in time, for a moment later Locke and Eva
entered.
They, too, glanced around fearfully. They saw the dread form of the
Automaton and, although it did not move, Locke would have admitted he
was ready to beat a retreat.
It was uncanny, weird. In the dim light the monster seemed to assume
gigantic proportions. But he lay so still that their jangling nerves
became quieted. They even approached him, Locke with automatic in hand
in case the iron terror were shamming. But there was no sign of life--or
whatever it was that animated this thing.
Locke, handing his gun to Eva, determined to investigate further. He
went to the inner door and listened. But he could hear no sound. He
turned the knob and entered. He was amazed at what he saw. But, as there
was apparently no living thing about, he took courage and entered
farther. He took note of the switches, saw the deadly chair, and was
about to test the apparatus to see if it could be possible that a
practical electric chair existed in the heart of a peaceful city, when
he heard Eva shriek in heart-rending terror.
He rushed madly back to where he had left her. But as he passed through
the door some one dealt him a blow on the head, and as though pole-axed
he dropped to the floor.
After Locke had left her to go into the inner room Eva's fears revived
and she wished to follow him. But she was ashamed to have him think her
a coward. She forced herself to remain rooted to the spot.
Her eyes had followed Locke through the doorway and her ears were
strained to hear the faintest sound from the other room. In her anxiety
about Locke's safety she even forgot the Automaton, and, in turning the
better to watch the doorway, she drew nearer to the divan upon which the
monster lay.
It was this action that had brought her into peril. Slowly one of the
monster's arms commenced to move, and before Eva could spring away she
was enfolded in his deadly embrace. It was that that made her shriek
madly, wildly, in utter terror.
Then she saw Locke running through the door to her, saw him struck from
behind, and she fainted.
The Automaton, evidently thinking Eva dead, let her limp body slip to
the floor. For a moment it towered over her, as though contemplating
whether to trample on her or no. At this juncture an emissary distracted
its attention and the terror left her lying there without further
injury.
The Automaton now assumed command of Locke's electrocution.
Under its direction the emissaries picked up Locke's body and placed it
in the electric chair. They slit his trousers so that the deadly
electrodes might form a better contact with his flesh. His sleeves were
rolled back for the same reason. Next the headpiece was firmly adjusted.
Now all the straps were tightly clinched.
The Automaton waved his arm.
A man stepped to the switch.