The sharp crack of an automatic echoed through the shack. The detective
known as Jim had come back to consciousness, and now, from behind an
overturned table where he had fallen, he started to fire shot after shot
into the mob of emissaries.
He had fallen in a far corner and could be reached only after an attack
of some paces, and even the emissaries, numerous as they were, hesitated
to advance on a determined man placed in such an advantageous position.
Furthermore, the diversion caused by the shots had other effects. The
sound of the shots brought Locke fully out of his stunned condition and
he started to struggle frantically in the meshes of the net that held
him prisoner.
The Automaton, for the moment, ceased to follow Eva, and moved over to
its men in order to take command and to direct their movements, while
yet another detective came to his senses and began to threaten the mob.
Locke was threshing about and was slowly but surely freeing himself. An
emissary threw a chair, and for a moment Locke lay still in pain. But in
another moment he was working even more frantically at the ropes and the
net that held him.
Eva started over to help him, but he shouted to her to stand back, since
that would bring her in line with the detectives' fire. The shots were
flying over Locke's body as he struggled. Some of the emissaries went
down; others found places of refuge behind which they hid.
Finally Locke managed to kick his feet free of the net and, rolling and
tossing, managed to work the meshes up about his shoulders and neck,
thus releasing his hands. It was the work of an instant only, now, to
slip the enveloping net over his head and he was free.
Locke rolled out of the direction of the revolver-shots and toward Eva,
who was now standing before a huge open fireplace.
He was none too soon, for the moment that the Automaton saw that Locke
had escaped the iron terror left the men and stalked ponderously over to
crush out Locke's life.
The two detectives fired point-blank at the monster and both shots took
effect with a ringing, metallic sound. But they did not halt the
Automaton an instant. Locke, reaching the fireplace, seized a pair of
old tongs and threw firebrand after firebrand in the path of the
advancing terror.
To the Automaton fire was evidently quite another affair from mere puny
bullets, for it not only paused, but came to a full stop, looking around
as though in a quandary as to what to do against such a defense.
This moment of hesitation gave Locke and Eva their opportunity. Calling
to the detectives to cease firing a moment, they passed between friends
and foes, dashed over to and up the attic stairs.
As they reached the attic above they were just in time to see Zita,
still dressed in Paul's clothes, and Dora, jump from the attic window.
Although it was a low, rambling building, still it was a high jump, even
for a man, and Locke was astounded that they should attempt such a
thing, even in their undoubted state of panic.
However, it gave Locke a splendid idea, which he acted upon immediately.
Hooking his feet on the window-frame, he took hold of Eva's wrists
firmly and swung her far out of the window. Held in this way, Eva was
only a few feet from the ground, and when Locke released her she landed
safely and almost without a jar.
For Locke, always in perfect training, the jump offered no difficulties.
In an instant he had rejoined her and they were running away from the
shack toward Eva's waiting car.
Locke had an almost overpowering desire to return to assist his
detectives, whom he realized might be in sore straits, but he also
realized that his first duty was to this girl who was in his charge, on
whom the events through which they had just passed had had a
nerve-racking effect. Again, he reflected, as he saw people coming down
the beach, that the Automaton and his men would soon be outnumbered and
glad to flee.
Quentin and Eva had almost reached the motor which Eva had left at some
distance from Old Tom's shack, and were passing a low clump of bushes,
when a low moan fell upon their ears.
At first Locke thought that it might be a trap and was for paying no
attention to the sound, but Eva, woman-like, insisted. He investigated.
Reclining on the ground, and looking more like a little boy in man's
clothes, lay Zita.
She was holding one ankle and her face showed that she must be in great
pain.
"Help me," she moaned. "When I jumped from the window I sprained my
ankle. Dora helped me to this place and then she left me and drove
away."
Although this girl was his enemy, no thought of leaving her in this
condition entered Locke's mind. Gently raising her from the ground, with
the help of Eva, Locke supported her to the car.
Locke still held Zita to ease her pain, while Eva took the wheel, and,
although they could hear shouts and even shots behind them, Eva drove
slowly in order not to add to Zita's misery. It showed the sympathy of
their characters that, much as Locke and Eva felt that Zita had injured
them, nevertheless, pausing in a flight from deadly peril, they found it
in their hearts to be kind to an enemy.
Arriving at Brent Rock, they carried Zita to her room and the family
physician was sent for. He pronounced the injury slight and more of a
strain than a sprain.
While the doctor was at the house he also paid a visit to Brent, who,
while his mental condition had remained as apparently hopeless as ever,
had gained much in strength, owing to the diet and restful care. He was
now able to sit up, fully dressed. As it was a case of drug poisoning,
the doctor had thought it best not to allow the patient to relax too
completely. But, whatever the strange drug that had stolen away Brent's
reason, the effect showed no signs of departure, and they were as much
in the dark as to the antidote as ever.
A few moments after the doctor had left, when he made his morning call
the next day, the counsel of the corporation was announced. He was shown
into the library immediately and it was there that Locke and Eva went
into conference with him.
The attorney had brought with him many share-holders' proxies, and these
he handed over to Eva.
"These proxies," he was declaring, "give you absolute control, Miss
Brent. With them you can force Mr. Balcom completely out of
International Patents."
"What's that you say?"
It was Balcom himself who spoke. How the man had got past the butler,
who certainly had no love for him, was mystifying. Yet here he was,
ready and eager to defend his interests.
"I was just telling Miss Brent," informed the lawyer, coldly, "that with
these proxies which I have obtained and just handed to her, she was in
complete control of the company."
"And you, Mr. Balcom," interposed Locke, stepping forward, "will play no
further part in the activities of the company. Miss Brent desires your
resignation, to take effect immediately."
"Why--why--this is unheard of--absurd!" sputtered Balcom. "I'll--I'll--"
And his rage got the better of him.
"No, Mr. Balcom," again interrupted Locke, "you will do nothing. It is I
who will give you twenty-four hours to arrange your affairs with the
company before I order your removal--or arrest."
Balcom tried to remonstrate, to plead his innocence of any wrong-doing.
Finding no sympathy by taking this attitude, his manner changed abruptly
and he attempted to bluster.
A decisive movement toward the telephone on the part of Locke checked
this and, chameleon-like, Balcom's usual suave manner came to the fore.
He bowed himself out.
"It will, of course, be as you say." He smiled oilily.
Once in the hall, however, his manner changed again, and, darkly
scowling and biting his thin lips, he was about to quit the place, when
Zita, limping only slightly, intercepted him.
"Mr. Balcom," she pleaded, "come out the back way. I must see you alone
a moment."
They tiptoed out to the grounds, and, behind a hedge where they could
not be observed from the house, talked.
"Tell me what has happened," demanded Zita.
"Happened?" repeated Balcom. "Why, they've thrown me out of the
company--at least, they think they have."
His mind was working quickly, and after a pause he turned to Zita
sharply. "Can you get Brent out of the house and bring him to me here
behind this hedge at eight o'clock to-night?"
Zita nodded an eager acquiescence and left him, returning to the house.
That evening Locke, returning from a stroll around the grounds, noticed
a movement in some shrubbery at the side of the foot-path. He went
closer to investigate, and a rough-looking individual broke from cover
and ran away through the underbrush as fast as he could go. It was too
dark to follow and Locke hastened his steps to the house, fearing some
new deviltry on the part of the Automaton or his emissaries.
He had just entered the darkened hallway when, much to his surprise, he
saw the figure of a man, leaning heavily on the arm of a woman,
descending the stairs.
He stepped behind some portières and waited until they reached the foot
of the stairway. Then he stepped out and confronted them.
Zita gave a startled cry, and would have fled had not Locke caught and
held her. As for poor Brent, he simply stood there, swaying from side to
side and smiling foolishly.
Eva heard the commotion and came running down the stairs. She was amazed
until Locke explained the situation to her. Then her indignation knew no
bounds. Putting her arms around her father, she turned to Zita.
"How dare you?" she demanded, scathingly. "For doing this you will leave
this house immediately and--never return."
Zita, for a moment, was on the verge of breaking down, but recovered
herself and, with an angry retort on her lips, went out, slamming the
door behind her.
Zita slipped around the house and to the hedge designated by Balcom as
their meeting-place.
She was surprised but relieved when she did not find him there, and
glanced at her wrist watch, which stood at a few minutes past eight. She
was about to turn around when she caught sight of a bit of paper. Taking
it, she read:
Bring him to my rooms.
That was all, and the message was unsigned.
Zita greatly feared Balcom's wrath at her failure, but, nevertheless,
she started for his apartment.
At that moment Balcom and the mysterious Doctor Q were talking in the
latter's dingy laboratory. Doctor Q's mind, for the time being, at
least, seemed perfectly clear, and he had formulated a daring plan.
"Send Locke word that you will give yourself up," he was saying, "but
tell him that he must come to your apartment to get you. I will do the
rest."
Balcom left hurriedly and was driven directly home, where he got Locke
on the telephone and repeated the instructions that Doctor Q had
suggested.
"Am I to understand that you intend to turn state's evidence?"
questioned Locke, doubtfully.
"Assuredly," hastened Balcom.
"Then I'll be right over."
As Balcom hung up the receiver he chuckled sardonically. He was just
turning to an antique brazier to arrange for Locke's reception when Zita
was announced and at once admitted.
"I've failed, Mr. Balcom," she apologized, "failed miserably. Locke took
Mr. Brent away from me--and they ordered me never to return to the
house."
"You little idiot!" Balcom almost hissed. "I'll not tolerate a failure,
either. Get out!"
Although Zita almost went on her knees in her pleading to him, Balcom
was adamant, and finally she left in utter despair.
Outside, she telephoned to Paul to see if she might induce him to use
his influence in reinstating her in his father's good graces.
As soon as Zita was gone Balcom busied himself with the ancient brazier
and was standing before a small image of Buddha. He took a small package
and from it poured a powder into the bowl of the brazier. Then, going to
the table, he wrote a short note, after which he went to a divan and
awaited Locke's coming.
Balcom had not long to wait. A ring came at the door and Balcom leaped
to his feet and lighted the powder in the brazier. Then he adjusted a
gas-mask that Doctor Q had given him, and, returning to the divan, lay
down, pulling a camel's-hair coverlet well over himself as he awaited
results.
There was a rap at the door and a peremptory demand for entrance--a
pause--and a whispered consultation outside.
"Open the door!" cried Locke, again.
As there was no answer, heavy blows were rained upon the door, and
finally it gave way.
Three men stumbled into the room. They stared about, then started to
search the place. One by one they started to cough. Locke, who was the
farthest away from the brazier, seemed to be the least affected.
Finally he spied the note on the table and snatched it up. By the dim
light he read:
You will never live to capture me. The deadly gas is
even now killing you.
Locke gasped. There was the sound of a heavy fall behind him. He turned
and saw that one of his men was down.
He took a step forward, when the other pitched on his face.
Locke tried to rescue them, but by this time the deadly fumes had
reached him and he, too, fell to the floor, coughing his life away.
At that moment Balcom got up from the divan and, stepping over Locke's
prostrate body, left the place, forgetting to close the door behind him.
When Zita telephoned Paul, Paul made an immediate appointment for her to
meet him at Doctor Q's, and when she arrived there Paul was already in
conference with the doctor.
Over the telephone Zita had already given Paul a brief account of what
had happened, and thus the two men were prepared with a plan when she
arrived.
"Get Eva to the hypnotist's on River Street," instructed Doctor Q. "Tell
her that I have been hypnotized and that under the spell I will tell
all."
It was a desperate thing for Zita to attempt, after treating the Brents
so shamelessly. But there was no alternative. For she knew well that,
with Balcom, only a success would offset her miserable failure earlier
in the evening. Besides, were not her fortunes tied up with Balcom--or
perhaps with Paul? She did not demur, but left immediately for Brent
Rock to make the attempt, revolving in her mind how she was to do it.
Zita had difficulty in persuading Eva to see her at all, but, once she
had succeeded, the possibility that all the mystery might be cleared up
appealed strongly to Eva. For Zita had framed her story cleverly and was
playing desperately.
"Then I'll meet you at the hypnotist's in about half an hour," agreed
Eva, after Zita had told her how friendless she herself was and how both
Balcom and Paul had refused her aid.
Zita left Brent Rock alone and was passing a dark corner when a hand
reached out and grasped her by the arm and she heard a voice that she
recognized.
"Your failure has made me redouble my efforts," it hissed. "I have just
killed Locke in my apartment and I--"
It was Balcom. But Zita waited to hear no more. Secretly she had always
loved Locke. Though she had worked against him, the very thought that he
might be dead shocked her. She tore herself from the grasp of Balcom
before she could hear more and ran like a deer toward the apartment.
Fortunately, it was not far. She tore up-stairs and through the door
that Balcom had left open.
Everything was as Balcom had left it, except that now the three men lay
quite still. Zita staggered over to a window and threw it open.
Next she got water and extinguished the still smoldering powder. Then,
falling on her knees, she tried to help the stricken men.
Not much time did she spend with the others, but to Locke with great
tenderness she gave most of her attention. Tenderly she bathed his brow
and frantically tried even to breathe her breath into his burning lungs.
Finally she was rewarded by seeing him open his eyes and gaze around. He
looked up at her.
"I'll atone for all the wrong I've done," she sobbed, "only--"
She would have asked him to love her, but she knew that it was useless
and the thought of Eva, caused the words to stick in her throat.
Locke did not understand, and the look on his face showed it.
"I didn't want to give you up," wailed Zita, now forgetting herself. "I
loved you. To prove it--I will help you now. The--the girl you love is
in terrible danger--you must hurry."
It was only too true. Eva had driven immediately to the hypnotist's, and
he had been instructed about her coming. At his door she had knocked,
and an old, evil-visaged man, in flowing robes which were marked in
cabalistic signs, had opened the door. In true fakir fashion he salaamed
almost to the floor while in flowery language he bade her enter.
Fearfully Eva stepped within. Signs of the zodiac, of cross-bones and
skulls, on walls and ceiling met her gaze everywhere. In an alcove Eva
could see a noosed rope hanging, for what purpose she knew not. But its
presence she felt was sinister.
"I--I was told that a Doctor Q would be here," Eva faltered. "I do not
see him."
"Gracious lady," bowed the hyponotist, "I will bring him at once. Pray
be seated."
Eva seated herself before a table upon which there stood a curious
stand, supporting many mirrors. She examined it closely, and as she did
so they all began to move. Each mirror moved on its own axis and she
watched with fatal curiosity. For now a bright light was cast from
behind her on the revolving mirrors and they formed a scintillating
kaleidoscope that was bewildering in its intricacy.
Eva quickly became fascinated. Then she was conscious of a drowsy
feeling stealing over her. She strove to rise, but her knees refused to
support her and she fell back in her chair.
The hypnotist now shut off the machine and, stepping before Eva, made
several passes with his hands.
Eva's eyes closed. The hypnotist turned and made a signal. Several
panels opened simultaneously and into the room there came a number of
emissaries, who crept upon the now completely hypnotized girl.
Nor was that all. A sound, as of the clanking of chains, was heard, and
through an aperture in the wall larger than the others there stalked the
Automaton.
At this very instant Locke and Zita burst into the room and rushed
toward Eva.
The hypnotist slipped around them both and in a moment had caught Zita
in his arms. She struggled to escape, beating him with her little fists
in a fury of rage and fear. But he held her, and an emissary, bringing
ropes, with his help bound her securely.
As for Locke, he made a frantic attempt to reach Eva, but his way was
blocked by a score of emissaries and the Automaton himself. Desperately
Locke dashed at the iron monster, only to be hurled to the floor as
though he were a tiny child.
In another moment the emissaries had bound him and carried him to the
alcove in which hung the noosed rope.
The hypnotist now pulled a lever and the method of the death intended
for Locke was revealed. Directly under the suspended rope was a
trap-door, which opened. Locke gazed down into blackness, nothingness.
An emissary threw some small, heavy object into the yawning hole. For a
long time nothing was heard. Then finally, far, far below there came to
their ears the sound of a distant splash.
The fiendish plan was simple--to hang him and then to cut the rope. His
body would go hurtling down to the subterranean river below and be
carried out to sea.
The hypnotist reversed the lever. The trap-door closed. Locke was
dragged beneath the rope and it was adjusted around his neck.
Even in this awful moment his sole thought was of Eva. Would they throw
her, unconscious, down the same yawning trap?
Powerless, he stood bound, fascinated, as he saw three emissaries seize
her. But instead of dragging her to the trap, they dragged her toward
one of the panels in the wall.
What nameless torture was in store for her?
He struggled furiously to get free to rush to her, but the noose only
tightened on his neck.
The hypnotist stepped to the lever that operated the trap under Locke's
feet and began to pull the lever down.