For a long time Locke lay quite still. The shock to his nervous system
had been terrific, and, although physically almost uninjured, he had
lost his usual grip on himself and felt very helpless.
He felt terribly tired. The thought came to him that he had done enough,
reached his limit of endurance. He craved sleep, a long sleep, and
forgetfulness.
But youth and the undying desire for life and accomplishment won over
this deadly mood and he began to take note of his position. His mind
became clearer and the ringing in his ears, caused by the explosion,
gradually passed away.
Then, like a flash, the question entered his mind of how he was able,
buried under tons of debris, to breathe so freely. Why was the air not
vitiated?
He tried to move slowly and quietly so as not to dislodge any of the
rocks that formed an arch over his body. He succeeded beyond his
expectations, for his body was in a sort of natural pocket and not one
of his limbs was inextricably bound. Thus, twisting his body, he managed
to draw himself into what seemed to be an even more open space.
He hardly dared to breathe, so fearful was he that any moment he might
reach a point where further progress would be impossible. He moved
slowly, gropingly, then suddenly he recoiled in horror, for his hand had
come in contact with something which he recognized to be a man's face.
In his shaken condition it was some seconds before he could control the
wild jangling of his nerves. Then he searched his pockets and, finding a
match, lighted it. There, covered to the armpits by dirt and rocks, was
the body of Balcom, whose last act before his own death had been an
attempt to murder Locke.
Locke shuddered and redoubled his efforts to escape from the gruesome
place. There still remained a small hole through which he must climb.
But he negotiated it successfully, and in another moment he was
aboveground and free.
Eva and Zita had followed Locke's instructions, but had not waited to
find any one to go with them to the exit from the den. Nor did they wait
at the exit more than a few minutes.
Eva had taken a small electric torch with her, and, becoming impatient
at the non-appearance of Locke, she flashed it about as she followed the
lines and marks indicated on the plan of the den.
She and Zita were surprised at the magnitude of the entrance passageway
they uncovered. They had had to make a detour in order to reach the
beach at a point where it was indicated that the exit of the den would
be found, and even with the plan, which they consulted at every step,
they almost missed their objective, for the cleft in the rocks slanted
inward and was difficult to see even when one was standing directly in
front of it.
They had peered into the cavern and were waiting when they heard the
explosion. They gazed at each other questioningly and with apprehension.
"What do you think it is?" asked Eva, questioningly.
Zita could, of course, offer no explanation and did not try.
Impulsively both girls took a very foolish chance. Both had thought of
Locke and they started to run into the cave entrance and toward the
sound of the explosion.
Zita was in the lead, and it was at this moment that the panic-stricken
emissaries came tumbling and fighting their way from the den. Zita
shrieked to Eva to save herself, and Eva, although unwilling to leave
her, knew that now she could do nothing to save Zita, and took her only
chance of escape.
As for Zita, the emissaries were too frightened to pay any attention to
her. But behind them came the iron monster, without nerves, it seemed.
The Automaton saw her and pinned her to the rock wall until she was
unconscious. Then, picking her up as though she were a feather, it
carried her out to the beach.
Locke, the moment he freed himself from the hole which had so nearly
been his grave, ran staggering toward the beach, for he felt
instinctively that Eva and Zita were in danger.
Eva and Locke must have started at about the same time, she in her
flight away from the Automaton, and Locke to find the den exit, for they
met on the cliffside.
"Thank God you are safe!" exclaimed Eva.
Locke impulsively threw his arms about her and kissed her as they
related their narrow escapes.
Locke resolved to follow the trail of the Automaton and to rescue Zita.
Also he had hopes of rescuing Eva's father at the same time. Eva wished
to accompany him, but he would not think of it, and insisted that she
return to Brent Rock and keep all the doors barricaded. In fact, he
followed her almost to the house and saw that she entered safely, then
hurried back to the beach.
With the aid of Eva's electric torch, which she had given him, it was no
difficult task to trace the huge footsteps of the Automaton, though, one
by one, the footprints of the emissaries took divergent directions,
probably for the very purpose of confusing just such a pursuit.
He followed the main track, however, until he came to the banks of a
small stream, and there the trail was completely lost, for the monster
had stepped into the water. Locke waded to the other bank and hunted for
further tracks, but there were none to be found. The Automaton had
undoubtedly waded up-stream to the point where he had decided to dispose
of Zita.
Nothing daunted, Locke started wading upstream. This stream ran in a
gully between the rocks and the cliffs on either side, which were very
high. Time and time again Locke thought of turning back for more
searchers. But he hated to return to Eva without at least some news, and
therefore he persisted.
He was at last rewarded, for just as he was about to turn to the right
where the stream made a bend, he thought he heard a low laugh. He
stopped dead in his tracks. Again the sound of the broken laughter came
to him.
Cautiously Locke moved slowly forward until he could see around the
bend.
It was a strange sight that met his gaze. Under an enormous overhanging
rock he saw about fifteen men standing, while against the cliff he could
distinguish the form of a girl. It was undoubtedly Zita. Sitting on a
rock and quite close to her was Peter Brent.
The emissaries were clustered around the central figure, which was
waving its arms of steel and indicating what they should do. As the
Automaton gesticulated, tiny points of fire gleamed from its eyes.
Seen in the light of the lanterns held by the emissaries, the Automaton
never looked more terrifying. Even Locke himself, who had encountered
the monster so often, felt a cold chill as he watched him and his men.
Locke turned noiselessly, for well he knew that alone he could do
nothing. He started to retrace his steps to Brent Rock, and no sooner
had he arrived there than he told Eva that her father still lived and
was uninjured, and that Zita was safe in the new den of the Automaton
which he had discovered. Then he telephoned to his chief to send
officers immediately to Brent Rock.
After the explosion that had killed Balcom and had come so near to
killing Locke, when he had finally rescued himself and had drawn himself
out of the hole, there was one who watched him.
It was none other than that mysterious being, Doctor Q. What twist of
that disordered brain had brought him to the spot was not at once
evident. However, as soon as Locke had left to go toward Eva, Doctor Q
came from his hiding-place, madly smiling and wagging his head. He
peered into the hole and, seeing nothing, lighted a match and thrust it
far down into the darkness.
There was a sharp intake of his breath, for the match revealed to him
the dead face of Herbert Balcom.
Doctor Q drew back and stood erect.
"Dead!" he muttered, as he ran his fingers through his hair dazedly.
"Dead!"
A strange thing happened. The mad light fled from the eyes of Doctor Q
and the twisted brain seemed to become clear.
Suddenly in the very field the old man knelt down and prayed a thankful
prayer for his recovery.
What was the strange power which Balcom had wielded over him, which
death had snapped?
The officers arrived at Brent Rock and Locke was ready. The party left
immediately to go to the rescue of Brent and Zita, and it took them only
a short time to reach the spot which Locke had located.
Disposing some of his force below the hanging rock, Locke and some
others went farther upstream. The two parties looked at their watches,
waiting a certain time agreed on.
Then the two parties moved toward each other. As they came in sight of
the spot, Locke experienced a keen disappointment. He could see no one.
Advancing farther, he discovered Brent still on the same rock. Guarding
him were three emissaries. That was all. Zita, the Automaton, and the
other emissaries were gone.
The three emissaries, seeing the numbers opposed to them, did not even
offer to resist. They were placed under arrest, but nothing could induce
them to tell where the others had gone.
To fail Zita after she had so nobly saved his life in the lair of the
hypnotist was an unwelcome thought to Locke, and he resolved to rescue
her at any risk. But first he felt he must restore Brent to his
daughter, and therefore the party returned to Brent Rock.
Eva was beside herself with joy at the safe return of her father, and
led him tenderly to his room and sent immediately for the doctor in
order that he might not suffer from his exposure.
While this was going on at Brent Rock, Paul Balcom was rifling his
father's papers in the apartment where Balcom had lived. He had
unceremoniously thrown letters and documents all over the floor in his
mad search for something. Finally he found what he was looking for, and,
smiling triumphantly as he read the paper, he thrust it into his pocket
and hurriedly left the place, not stopping even to pick up the papers
scattered all about.
Zita had evidently been watching the house, for no sooner had he left
than she ran up the front steps of the Balcom apartment.
In some way she had procured a key and let herself in. Then began a
feverish search very similar to that which Paul had instituted. Only,
this time Zita picked up all the papers, arranging them and placing them
back in the drawers, after scanning their contents.
She had almost finished when a small book lying in a distant corner of
the room caught her eye.
At a glance she saw that it was a diary. Turning the pages rapidly, she
finally came to one over which she fairly gloated, for its information,
sold to the proper parties, might make her independent for life.
Even as she was gloating over her find there came the sound of many feet
in the front hallway. Zita had no time to run out of the room before the
door opened, giving entrance to six emissaries, surrounding her.
The emissaries locked all the doors and tramped out. Only their leader
remained for a moment to throw a parting shot.
"Remember," he threatened, "this house is watched. See that you act
accordingly. You will, if you know what's good for you."
Then he slammed the door and locked it behind him.
For a long time Zita sat there, too despairing to move. Then her ear
caught the sound of stealthy footsteps in the hall, and she ran and hid
behind the portières. The door opened slowly and Paul stole again into
the room.
Having nothing to fear from him, Zita came from her hiding-place and
confronted him. Paul was startled for a moment at her sudden appearance,
but recovered himself on seeing that it was Zita.
The paper that he had stolen from his father's desk had proved to him
that Zita had become highly desirable, and he was not one to miss such
an opportunity.
As he questioned her, Zita told him briefly her story, or, rather, such
portions of it as she thought it desirable for him to know. Paul, in
turn, assured her of his undying friendship and something more. His
earnestness almost made it seem true, and he talked in his most
fascinating and attractive manner. He finally ended his conversation
with a direct proposal of marriage. But he had overstepped the mark and
Zita was not to be fooled.
"Paul"--she laughed scornfully now--"you should be on the stage. It
needed only this proposal to prove to me that I am really Peter Brent's
daughter."
"Peter Brent's daughter!" he exclaimed. "No, not his daughter--the
daughter of Doctor Q."
"Impossible!" recoiled Zita, astounded at the assertion.
"True, Zita," he asserted, "absolutely true. Here, look at this paper."
With hands that trembled, Zita took the paper and read an amazing table.
Unless the paper lied, she was indeed the daughter of Doctor Q.
There was only one thing to do and that was to confront Doctor Q at once
and force him to a full explanation.
In order not to antagonize Paul, Zita was now particularly nice to him.
Her object was to get him to consent to her escape, so that she could
inform Locke and Eva of her discovery and all three confront Doctor Q
and wrest from him the story.
At first Paul would not let her go unless she consented to marry him,
but Zita played him skilfully, so that finally he unlocked the door.
Then Zita flew down the stairs and to a telephone around the corner,
where she called up Locke, to whom she told as much as she dared over
the wire.
Locke told her that he and Eva would meet her within an hour in the
lobby of one of the city's largest hotels, and Zita hastened there,
where she waited impatiently until they arrived.
Doctor Q admitted them immediately, and they noticed with astonishment
the wonderful change for the better that had taken place in the man. For
with the restoration of his mind all the evil lines of his face had been
obliterated, as it were, and in the place of the doddering half-imbecile
they found a genial, kindly, and distinguished gentleman who, with the
utmost hospitality, brought chairs and begged them to be seated.
Zita, in her anxiety to know the truth, could hardly contain her
impatience. Tossed from pillar to post, dominated once by the strong,
evil mind of Balcom, Zita had run the gamut of human emotions before she
had barely passed her girlhood.
Seeing her agitation, Locke undertook to interrogate the doctor.
"Doctor Q," he began, "I believe you know the perpetrator of the crimes
to which we have all been subjected, and we have come to you in all
friendliness to ask you to clear this mystery up for us. Balcom is
dead," added Locke, pointedly.
"Yes, I know that," interrupted Doctor Q.
"You know?" all asked. "How do you know?"
The doctor told of having seen Balcom's body. But at first he could not
explain why he was in the spot at the time.
Then Locke went on to tell him of the document that Paul had shown to
Zita.
Doctor Q sank heavily into a chair.
"That document that Paul Balcom showed Zita," he exclaimed, after a
moment, "told the truth."
All were startled. Zita would have risen with a cry had not Locke gently
touched her arm.
"Tell us the story," demanded Locke of Q.
For some moments Doctor Q seemed to be collecting his scattered
thoughts, as though still a haze hung over his mind. Then he began to
speak, becoming more certain of his strange story.
"It was many years ago," he began, as all drew closer about him,
listening breathlessly to his narrative, "and all these years I have
been quite mad. The man now lying dead, Balcom, was the cause of all
these years of misery."
The old man passed his hand over his head as though to wipe away a
recollection of hate and fear, then resumed:
"I was an inventor in those days, and very successful. I had built up a
great fortune, had built a great house, and in that house I had a
beautiful wife and two of the loveliest children, a boy and a girl, that
ever man had."
He paused again, then went on:
"One day, a man entered my life and proposed to put my inventions on the
market very advantageously. He was suave, polished, and apparently a
gentleman. At any rate, I trusted him. You all knew him. It was Herbert
Balcom.
"At the time I did not know that in order to give my inventions a clear
field the inventions of hundreds of poor inventors were to be
suppressed. I know now, Miss Brent, that your own father was led along
in the scheme, even as I was. Balcom possessed the master mind and we
were all as children in his hands."
Doctor Q stopped a moment. It was evident that he was speaking with
restraint when it came to Peter Brent, perhaps glossing over what the
man had done. Though he did not say so, the mere fact that at last Brent
had seen the light and had planned a wholesale restitution weighed
supremely in Doctor Q's mind.
"One day," he resumed, "Balcom came to me in what I know now was merely
feigned excitement and fear. 'They're after us!' he cried. 'Brent and I
have done our best--but the government is after you, and we can't
protect you any longer.'
"Then for the first time Balcom told me of the real purposes of the
company, told me that he had been drawn into it by Brent. It was all a
tissue of lies--lies that drove me from my home and country. I hated
your father with an undying hate, Miss Brent.
"Well, to make the sad story short, I took my wife and children and
sailed secretly for the farthermost parts of the world. Off the coast of
Madagascar, in the Straits, a typhoon came up. The vessel was driven on
the rocks and wrecked. I was cast ashore, and I vaguely remember how,
for days and weeks, I patrolled that beach, subsisting on shell-fish,
imploring God, day and night, to restore my wife and children to me.
Then my mind gave way.
"The natives took me in, thinking me a god. They took me many miles
inland. Savages, the world over, are superstitious about the demented,
and so they treated me kindly. They installed me in a thatched hut of my
own and made me a leader.
"How many months, years, I stayed with them I do not know. But, true to
my mechanical instinct, I rigged up a forge and improved many of the
crude instruments of the natives, principally those of agriculture.
"But transcending every other feeling, I hated Brent. In my madness, I
conceived the idea that I would construct an iron giant that, upon its
completion, if I could only procure the brain of a man who had died of a
lightning stroke or other electric agency, I could, by installing this
brain in the brain cavity of the giant, give it volition, make it a
superman without feeling or conscience. It was a mad idea--but I was
mad.
"At about this time Balcom came to Madagascar. He found me and, knowing
my intense hatred of Peter Brent, he cruelly added fuel to the fire.
Already he must have known that Brent was coming to his senses and
planning his great restitution to genius.
"He promised me that if I would come to New York with him he would
secure an electrocuted brain so that I could perfect my steel automaton
and obtain my revenge. I was easily persuaded and I sailed with Balcom,
bringing the iron monster with me."
A strange light gleamed in the old man's eyes as he spoke, not the light
of madness, but of kindliness now.
"Children," he said, at length, "I have, during these lucid moments,
watched you all closely. Call it instinct if you will, but you, Zita,
and you, Quentin, seem to be particularly dear to me now. To-day,
returning from the scene of the explosion, with every faculty not only
clear, but rather sharpened by long disuse, I pieced the years, the
months, even the days together. I searched in an old trunk and I
found--this."
It was a list of those rescued from the steamer _Magnifique_, and with
amazement they read the names among the passengers:
QUENTIN LOCKE
ZITA LOCKE
There was a short note at the bottom of the list, to the effect that no
trace of either the father or the mother of the two children had been
found.
Paper after paper which Doctor Q had found, where they had been
preserved by Balcom, proved the identification and the story.
Locke's head was in a whirl at the sudden change in relationships, but
not more so than Zita's. Finally Zita could stand the strain no longer.
What had been a hopeless love was now explained.
"My--my brother!" she sobbed, as she buried her head on Quentin's
shoulder.
Both turned to Doctor Q--Doctor Q no longer, but really Quentin Locke,
senior, whence had come the "Q."
His eyes filled with tears and his voice choked.
"My--children," he murmured, "I see that it is not too late for me to
find happiness, after all. Our enemy is dead. It was Balcom, of course,
who was in that frame of armor, who used that terrible poison that stole
away Brent's mind. The iron monster will walk no more. Henceforth Peter
Brent and Miss Eva and you, Quentin--will--"
Doctor Q had not time to finish the sentence.
The door burst inward.
The Automaton, its eyes aflame, stalked in among them!