 9 Meanwhile, as Flint left Brent Rock, his fear of the automaton returned to him with redoubled force. He had been false to his mission, nor had he ever succeeded in his treachery. A few minutes he had been certain that Ava would come to Baker's dock at the time set, but now doubts began to assail him. With her obvious faith in Locke, she might decide on the chemist's antidote, and there was always a possibility that it might restore Brent, in which case Flint realized that his life would be forfeit to the automaton. Nor were his fears unfounded. He had barely passed the fountain, where half an hour before he had been set free, when an emissary came out from behind a neighboring tree and took up his trail. Deluxe Dora also had waited only long enough to see Ava and Locke enter Brent Rock, when she turned her runabout around and drove rapidly back to Professor Hadwell's. She arrived there just in time to meet an automobile coming from the opposite direction and containing three emissaries of the automaton. In answer to an inquiry Dora pointed out the chemist's house to them. They piled out, and their leader knocked at the door while Dora drove off. The chemist answered, and the leader produced a vial, glibly lying as he handed it over. The Williams Drug Company sent me to have this stuff analyzed, said the leader. I'll wait. As the Professor admitted him, he did not see the other two men pressed close to the wall on either side of the room. The moment the Professor's back was turned, they slinked after their leader into the house. In a dark corner of the hallway they crouched as their leader went into the laboratory with the chemist. The Professor sniffed at the vial, which contained nothing but pure water, and in surprise turned to the emissary for an explanation. But it was too late. The emissary dealt him a blow with a blunt instrument that stunned him. And as he reeled back and grasped at a table, the other thugs rushed from the hall and reigned blow after blow on his venerable head and beat him to the floor. A convulsive shutter, a long drawn-out sigh, and he lay still. With barely a glance at him, the emissary set to work to smash all the paraphernalia of the place, sparing nothing in order to make sure that the antidote would be destroyed. Glass tubes, retorts, bottles, even furniture were smashed to bits in their orgy of ruin. And there, in the midst of the debris, his life's work finished, lay the old chemist dead. Tiring of their own efforts, the murderers at last desisted. One of them went to the street door and peered out, but in a moment was back with the others. Quick, that fellow Locke is coming! He was right. Locke had immediately quit Brent Rock and had come directly to the chemists in the hope of forestalling any further attempt by Flint to unveil Ava into dealing with him. The door had been left ajar, and although he thought it strange, Locke was without suspicion and entered the hallway. He called to his old friend, but the dead lips could not answer, and the emissaries would not. Greatly alarmed now, Locke strode to the laboratory. For a moment he stood as though petrified as the horrid scene burst upon his vision. He ran to the chemist and knelt beside his battered body. With a rush the emissaries darted from their hiding-place and were upon him. Although taken unawares, Locke was, in a measure, ready for them. One he grabbed in a clever jujitsu-hold and sent him hurtling through the air to crash in a heap in a far corner of the room. Leaping to his feet he beat another to the floor. The third villain was of tougher fiber. Up and down the laboratory they battled, stumbling over broken furniture, now falling to the floor, where they rolled over and over, first one, then the other gaining the mastery, while the broken glass with which the floor was littered cut their clothing to ribbons and bit into their flesh. Locke was slowly gaining the upper hand when the thug whom he had thrown over his head recovered. The brute took the situation in at a glance, saw his pal in trouble, and, sneaking treacherously behind Locke, dealt him a terrific blow with the butt of a revolver. Locke dropped to the floor as if pole-axed and lay still. One of the thugs kicked him as he lay defenceless and then, spying a row of coat hooks in an inner hallway with fiendish ingenuity, directed the others who had joined him. They strung Locke up by his thumbs so that he hung, half suspended, with his toes just off the floor. As one of them searched him, Locke was still unconscious. They found nothing but a few banknotes and the automatic revolver that Locke always carried. Slowly Locke regained his senses. The agony of his strained thumbs was almost unbearable, but he was not the man to give up. By this time two of the emissaries had gone, leaving one who seated himself quite close to Locke where he was examining the revolver. With the stoicism of an Indian, Locke manfully tried to evolve a plan by which he might escape. Like a flash it came to him, but it was a plan so fraught with the possibility of failure that he would not have decided on it except for the agony of the strain on his thumbs. Directly opposite him and at a distance of four or five feet was a door leading to a back alley. This door, the emissary now guarding him, had Locke as a precaution against surprise and had carefully placed the key in his vest pocket. Locke weighed each detail of his plan and then, bracing his feet firmly against the wall, he suddenly shot his lower limbs forward and like the closing of a pair of giant shears he wrapped his legs around the neck of the emissary and immediately exerted enormous pressure with his knees. The emissary, taken totally by surprise, struggled to break the hold and Locke's thumbs were almost wrenched from their sockets. But he held on grimly. Soon the thug's struggle subsided. Locke released him and he slipped to the floor. Locke was wearing a low-cut shoe. Strange that a man's life may hinge on such a slight detail, but this fact enabled him to work off his right shoe and his sock. He extended his bare foot and with his toes searched the pocket of the emissary for the key to the door. Finally he found it. Locke held the key as firmly as he might between his toes and projecting his body by a muscular effort far away from the wall, he managed to insert the key in the Locke. He turned it. The door was unlocked now, a swift downward movement of his foot against the knob and the door swung open. He braced himself against its edge and with his back firmly pressed against the wall relieved the strain on his thumbs. He rested a moment and then, as it were, walked up the edge of the door until his feet reached the top. Swinging one leg over the door, by patient effort he was unable to release one swollen thumb, then the other. An instant later he dropped down and leaned exhaustedly against the wall. While Locke was held in the room, things had happened which would have set him nearly crazy with anxiety. Ava, having heard nothing from him, had become alarmed and had telephoned to the chemist. This was at quarter to five and she had supposed that it was the chemist who answered her. In reality it had been an emissary and he had told her that the final experiment to find an antidote for her father's malady had been really a failure and that Locke had left some time before. After all that she had endured this was almost the final blow to Ava. She thought of Flint and Baker's Dock and five o'clock. There was no time to lose if she were to save her father. So she pulled herself together, seized her hat and cloak and started for the door. Here Zeta stopped her and offered to accompany her but she declined. She hastily asked the direction of Baker's Dock from the butler and then ran out of the house and sprang to the steering-wheel of her waiting car. With a whir of the starter she was away. Flint had arrived at the dock long before and was now slinking in and out among the crates and boxes as he saw diligently for a safe hiding-place. But his nerves, none too strong at the best, were now running riot and nowhere could he feel a sense of security so that he could remain quiet. It was while he was sneaking from one pile of bales to another that an emissary hailed him. Are you Flint? he demanded. Yes, came quaveringly from Flint. Well, there's a lady in the office asking for you. Such was the fascination of any of the emissaries of the automaton over Flint by this time that he followed the man without question, particularly as he felt that he would be spared since the lady in the office could be none other than Eva. Together they walked toward the entrance and, with an order to wait, the emissary halted Flint close to a pile of crates and left him. The moment dared not move. A premonition of impending disaster must have come over him, for his knees shook and a clammy sweat broke out on his forehead. Without sound a gigantic iron hand and arm protruded from behind a crate and for a moment hung suspended over Flint's head. Then, with a swift encircling movement, that hook-like arm wrapped itself around Flint's neck and drew him into the shadow. The mighty form drew the victim close and it was over. The automaton picked up the body as though it had been a mere feather-weight and stalked out to the waiting emissaries. A trap-door was opened and Flint's body was dashed into the river. Thus it was that all his scheming came to an end and his secret from Madagascar, which he had told Brent, but which now lay locked in that madman's mind, was stilled with Flint's dead lips. At the chemist's shop lock was by this time recovering from the terrible ordeal through which he had passed. He bathed his swollen thumbs and by rubbing them was able somewhat to restore the circulation. Then he stepped to the telephone and gave the Brent rock number. It was Zeta who answered him. "'Ava has gone alone to Baker's dock,' she answered to his inquiry, in half-triumphant jealousy. Lock did not wait to hear more. There was not a moment to be lost. He rushed out, de-shelled as he was, into the street, slamming the door after him. It seemed hours before he could find a taxi cab. "'Baker's dock,' he yelled, and twenty dollars if you make it in ten minutes. He did not know that the emissaries had robbed him of everything, nor would it have made any difference, for he could easily have fixed it with the driver through his police and secret service connections. In the meantime, Ava's car had met with misfortune and she had been compelled to stop. She jumped out and busied herself with a missing cylinder. Lock's taxi was running smoothly and arrived at the dock well within the time he had ordered. Lock jumped out and started to pay. It was then that he discovered that he was without money. The driver became angry and hard to pacify with the story of the robbery, but Lock finally convinced him that all was right with the Department of Justice. Lock walked through the gates to the dock and for a moment stood nonplussed. This dock had none of the turmoil and bustle naturally associated with docks when a steamer is about to leave. He cautiously proceeded between the piles of merchandise toward the end of the wharf. Of one thing he was now certain and a prayer of relief came to his lips. He was there before Ava and able to guard her from any danger that might arise. His eyes were keen, but he failed to notice the emissaries who, from behind crates and bales, were watching his every move. Or did he see that fiend of iron, the automaton, which, standing rigid, glared at him from behind an enormous packing-case? He continued down the wharf as, slinking like coyotes, those sinister forms glided from hiding place to hiding place and were never far from his heels. He reached the end of the wharf and gazed up and down the dark river. Here and there he could distinguish the colored lights that marked a tugboat or some other small craft, but of a large steamer there was no sign. It is rarely that a boat warps into a dock just a few moments before leaving for foreign parts, and it flashed upon Locke's mind that Flint had deceived them about his leaving for Madagascar that night. He was still wondering what it could all mean when the emissaries leaped upon him. Although weakened by his previous battle, Locke proved no easy customer for them. Time after time he struggled free from them, and with arms working like pistol rods, for a while he kept them at a distance. But like a pack of wolves they were not to be denied, and they finally succeeded in holding him firmly. One of them brought leg irons which he snapped around Locke's ankles. Once again Locke managed to get one of his arms free, and before they could prevent him two emissaries lay prostrate on the wharf. But that effort marked his last, for the automaton stocking up behind him pinioned his arms as though he was a baby. An emissary now placed a pair of handcuffs on his wrist, and to bind him more securely fastened a chain that extended from the handcuffs to the leg irons. Two of the thugs now carried him to the edge of the wharf, while a third attached a heavy weight to Locke's feet. Locke realized his helplessness, realized that his death was imminent. But he determined to rid the world of at least one murderer. By a mighty effort he shook off his captors, and as one rushed forward he grabbed him in his manacled hands and leaked with him into the river as they grappled. At the shore end of the wharf an emissary was leading Eva, as she thought, to flint. Locke and the thug sank immediately to the bottom of the river, and under water there ensued a terrific battle. Locke, semi-helpless because of his shackles, had the greatest difficulty in preventing the thug from breaking loose. But he was determined that the fellow at least would pay for his crimes with his life. The thug's struggles gradually became more feeble. Air bubbles rose from his bestial lips, and he became limp in Locke's grasp. Locke released him, and feet first he floated upward, dead. Locke's lungs were almost bursting now as he struggled at his chains. His senses reeled. He thought of Eva and redoubled his efforts. If he could only get rid of that great weight that was holding him down, a singing came to his ears. As Eva hurried down the dock, looking for the renegade flint, she found herself cornered between the emissary and the terrible automaton himself. With a scream of terror she ran until she came to a door that divided the dock into fireproof sections. Through it she darted, the automaton following relentlessly. Meanwhile Locke, his lungs almost bursting in the blood surging to his head, had managed to free himself from his shackles and had floated to the surface of the water. As he came up he swam to the piles of the dock just as several boatmen saw him and hurried to his aid. They heard the screams of Eva and all started running up the dock, but not in time to capture the automaton, who, warned by the emissaries, crashed through the side of the dock-house nearest the shore and escaped. A moment later, Locke, searching through the piles of boxes, bales, and crates, found Eva just recovering from her fright and in the joy of having saved her by his timely return forgot for the moment to pursue the terrible villain who managed to reach a waiting closed car and was whisked away. Thus it was that after the return to Brent Rock on the following day Eva was ministering to her father, still hopelessly insane through the failure to discover the antidote to the madness. While Eva was engaged in her ministration's upstairs, Locke was finishing some experiment in his laboratory. Downstairs, Balcom had just arrived in the hall, where he was met by Zeta with a report of what had happened the day before. Tell it to me in the strong room while I place this package there, Balcom whispered, indicating the package which he had brought. Together Balcom and Zeta descended to the cellar and made their way to the graveyard of genius as Zeta poured forth her story, unmindful of the fact that the butler had seen them go down, and was watching very skeptically. In the graveyard Balcom unwrapped a small model of a motor and placed it on the shelf. Eva, having left her father, came upon Locke in the hall, and there they stood, talking for a moment, while the butler approached apologetically. "'Begging your pardon, Miss Brent,' he reported, "'but I just saw Mr. Balcom go down to the strong room with Miss Zeta, and I thought you might like to know.' "'Thank you,' knotted Eva, dismissing the butler and trying to show no concern in the matter. But Locke shot a quick glance at her as the servant left, and it was evident that both felt the same suspicion, for Locke immediately excused himself and hurried downstairs. In the graveyard Balcom and Zeta were talking in subdued tones as Zeta whispered. "'I suppose you know,' she nodded, that before Mr. Brent went mad, he wrote a confession with a list of these inventions which international patents has suppressed.' Balcom could scarcely conceal his rage. "'Yes, I know it,' he replied savagely. That confession would cause a great deal of trouble.' Low as they were talking, they would have been even more careful had they known that Locke was listening outside, and that even as they turned to leave the strong room, he had sidled out of the way and was rejoining Eva in the library. Locke had scarcely told Eva what he had heard when she moved over to the safe and would have tried to open it had he not stopped her, for he had heard the other two coming from the cellar, and even as it was they were at the hall door. "'My dear,' remarked Balcom as he entered and went to Eva, "'since your father is not likely to recover, I must ask you to transfer all the company papers from his private safe to the office of the company.' Eva did not respond to the fatherly manner assumed by Balcom. Instead, she almost point-blank refused to do as he had requested. Just then, Locke, whom Balcom had almost ignored up to the present, heard the noise of someone coming through the conservatory. It was Paul Balcom, his coat on his arm, his sleeves rolled up, and a tennis racket in his hand, as he had come just from the courts. Paul glanced surly at Locke, who bowed pleasantly to him as well he might, considering their relative positions in Eva's real affections. Catching sight of his father with Eva, Paul paused a moment. It was just at that instant that Balcom had been saying to her, "'Why don't you marry Paul, as you promised your father and me? That would settle all the difficulties.'" Paul had suspected the nature of the conversation, though he approached as if ignorant of it. Apparently catching the drift, he deftly urged her. But Eva tactfully changed the subject, greatly to Paul's chagrin and his father's ill-suppressed anger. The suspense of the situation was relieved for Eva by the nearer approach of Locke, who must have had some inkling of what was going on. Paul and his father exchanged glances as the young chemist and detective joined Eva, and it was evident that no love toward him was wasted by either. "'Excuse me,' she apologized, walking away with Locke, but there is something very important that I must attend to for my father's interests.'" Locke and Eva walked to the safe, while Balcom and Paul watched like hawks. A moment later Eva was kneeling before the safe, after giving Locke a paper which contained the combination numbers to open the bolts. Locke glanced at it, then held it where Eva could read, "'Combination of safe, turn once left to forty, three right to eighteen, once left to forty.'" As Locke held the paper and Eva's slender hand spun the combination Locke, Balcom and Paul moved silently forward. Although Locke was holding the paper with the combinations for Eva, he heard them come up behind him and knew that they were watching. With a quiet smile to himself he moved the paper over so that they could see it, nor were they slow to take advantage of the chance. Locke's mind was working fast, and he had a purpose in what seemed to be carelessness or even foolishness. A moment later Eva opened the safe, and from it she took a typewritten document of many pages. It read, Board of Directors, International Patents, Inc., New York. Gentlemen, in view of the government's antitrust investigation, I have prepared this list of inventions we have suppressed. I think we should discuss at our annual meeting the advisability of surrendering our rights to these inventions, no matter what may happen to the corporations we have been protecting. Very truly yours, Peter Brent. Following this letter was a bulky paper, or a rather set of papers, which detailed the inventions and their history, exposing some of the nefarious operations of the corporation. Balcom, as he read the top letter, showed great agitation. As Locke took the package from Eva, Balcom interrupted. That's very dangerous, he said. If it gets out, the corporations are ruined. Locke scarcely replied. Instead, he very ostentatiously replaced the document in the safe, refusing to entrust it either to Balcom or to Paul, who withdrew sullenly, leaving Eva alone with Locke in the library, as Locke whirled the combination of the closed safe door. It was perhaps half an hour later in the secret den of the automaton in the Rockhewn Foundation of Brent Rock that the emissaries were watching the arched and dark passage. Suddenly there was the warning clank and the huge steel monster strode in. For some time he stood before the table, giving his instructions by means of mysterious cryptic motions. Meantime, above in Brent Rock, Locke had been busy, for he had conceived an entirely new plan to capture the automaton. It was nothing short of an electric trap and deadly in its simplicity. From the wall switch Locke had led wires carrying the house current. Already also he had let Eva in on a secret plan, and she was all eagerness as he planted his trap. Before the safe now, Locke paused, and there for a moment twisted the combination so that he could get his correct position. That done he noted the place where he had been standing and removed a mat from the floor in front of the safe. At that place he set in on the floor a fairly large iron plate. To this iron plate he attached a wire, then replaced the rug, but in such a way that a part of the plate was exposed, though it would never be noticed. If the automaton attempts to open the safe, he remarked to Eva as he worked, he will complete the electric circuit and it will hold him until we capture him. How clever, Eva exclaimed involuntarily. Now for making my signalling connection to the laboratory, continued Locke, then I must get some of my men up here from the department. However, while Locke and Eva were busy arranging this electric trap, they did not notice that they were being watched by Zeta, who had stolen into the conservatory and was eyeing them eagerly from the protection of the fronds of the palm. Zeta, moreover, was greatly excited as she gathered with her quick perception just what it was that they were doing. Nor did she wait to see the work finished, but stole out of the door and away, hurriedly. Locke had finished his preparations, and as he and Eva were discussing the possibilities of which he had devised, he remarked, in answer to her eager inquiry about his suspicions, I am sure we shall prove that there is a man inside that terrible machine that attacks us. Then you don't think it is really an automaton? asked Eva, with great respect for Locke's opinion, though it was sufficiently in evidence that she was not at all convinced that the monster was not really of steel and controlled by something that resembled a human brain. Locke was noncommittal. This trap will tell us, was all he would say. Zeta, hurrying out from the conservatory and wishing to waste not an instant in notifying Balcom, sought a nearby telephone pay station, and there, in frantic haste, she demanded Balcom's number. It was some moments before Central could make the connection, and then it was only to Zeta's disappointment and growing fear. The Madagascan servant of Balcom answered in the absence of his master. Is Mr. Balcom there? asked Zeta, adding. Or Mr. Paul? The black shook his head. Neither Mr. Balcom nor Mr. Paul is at home, he replied. Zeta was now thoroughly alarmed. Had she some connection with the automaton? Or was it her fear that either Balcom or Paul might know more than they would care to have the authorities know? Or was the automaton really an iron monster, after all? That, and many other questions, were surging through the minds of all who had encountered this unique mystery. End of Chapter 10 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 11 Of The Master Mystery This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline The Master Mystery By John W. Gray and Arthur B. Reeve Chapter 11 It was midnight when, far down in the Rockhewn Cavern in which the automaton had his secret den, the steel monster and one of his men stalked out through the arched passage that led to the very cellar of the house above them. A few moments later the swinging rock door in the graveyard of genius tilted, and the two entered the strong room, passing across the room and out through the steel door into the cellar. Up the cellar steps they proceeded until they reached the hall, then noiselessly they crossed into the library. With his human companion the monster approached the safe deliberately. Just as deliberately the automaton reached out to turn the handle of the combination. There was a flash as the current passed through the arm of steel to the foot of steel resting on the plate lock had set in the floor. A suppressed cry escaped from the henchmen. As for the monster he strove with superhuman force to wrench himself away from the electric trap. Meanwhile, up in his laboratory in the house, lock and four men from the Department of Justice had been waiting. The Department expects us to get this evidence right, he had emphasized as he gave them their instructions. Hardly had he finished when a signal light which lock had arranged on the wall flashed, giving the information that the trap had worked. Out of the laboratory all piled, running down the hall, lock paused only a second to tap on Ava's door as she had asked if anything happened so that she might be present at the capture. An instant and Ava too had joined the pursuit. Down in the library the automaton struggled with the current. As the rug was kicked aside the emissary saw the wire from the plate and quickly traced it to its source. The result was that in a few seconds the emissary had found a wall switch and pulled it. Instantly the automaton was released from the power that held him. Quickly the man of steel raised and lowered his arms as though to be sure that he could do so, at the same time indicating orders to his follower who leaped to guard the entrance to the room. Then the automaton turned to open the safe, making swift use of the remaining seconds before the alarm might bring interference. In almost no time he had the safe open, reached in and seized a packet of precious papers, apparently. Then he turned and was gone, regardless of the man whom he had sent to guard him. In the hall Locke's sharp ears had detected the approach of the emissary. Not knowing whether it might be the villain himself, he cautioned the men to wait an instant. The emissary, coming out, crouching and listening, did not see Locke, and thus Locke was able to seize him and with a spectacular throw project him literally into the hands of the law in the person of one of his own men, who snapped the bracelets on the astonished thug as Locke, followed by Ava and the rest, ran on to the library. No one was in the library as Locke ran in and looked about. He turned toward the door to the hallway where the portiers were drawn. As he was standing there, looking about, the portiers moved behind him. Suddenly they were jerked aside from their fastenings and flung over his head. As this happened the ponderous hand of the automaton descended on Locke's head and he sank to the floor as the portiers wrapped about him. When the department agents with Ava arrived they were merely in time to untangle Locke from the curtains. The automaton had fled safely. Although his head was still reeling from the blow, Locke started to question the prisoner, but gave it up as a bad job and hurried over to examine the safe, followed by Ava. Their dismay was mutual. Not only was the safe door open, but the paper was gone. Question the emissary as they would they could get nothing out of him. Such men have keenly developed the gang instinct of silence. They would sooner die than squeal. Even a night in jail failed to break the reticence of the emissary, although he had been subjected to the most strenuous third degree. Not only had his spirit not been broken, but the fellow was keenly alert and planning a way to secure his own release. As a prison guard was taking the emissary back to his cell, after a thorough quizzing by Locke in the warden's office, the emissary whispered, Want to make a piece of change? Safe? The guard looked about, saw that the coast was clear to speak, but before he could do so the emissary spoke again. Give me a piece of paper and a pencil. Quickly the thug scratched away at a note. Deliver that, he said to the guard handing him the note he had written, and you'll get something worthwhile. The guard nodded as he shoved the thug into his cell and locked the door, then walked off, while the fellow watched eagerly through the bars. Locke, in the warden's office, unsuccessful in making the prisoner talk, had evolved another scheme. Put me in the cell next to him, decided Locke, I have a plan. It was while the false guard was reading the address on the note that Locke and the warden entered the cell row. The guard hastily stuffed the message in his pocket as Locke and the warden passed up toward the empty next cell. Locke went through all the actions of one who was being thrown into a cell, and the emissary in his own cell listened without suspecting anything. Locke had arranged with the warden to leave the cell unlocked, but no sooner had the warden left than the guard, who had been observing, moved over and shot the bolt. Here, then, was a predicament. Locke could not give the alarm without putting the emissary in the next cell on guard. Rapidly, Locke revolved in his head scheme after scheme. He was an expert on bolts, and knew that at any moment he could release himself. Should he do so now? Instead, he concluded to wait until the guard returned, for by the man's actions, Locke was sure that something queer was going on, although, naturally, he did not know what it was. Accordingly, Locke laid down in the bunk in the cell and decided to wait. Some time later, at a deserted house not far from the rock-hewn den of the automaton, the false prison guard might have been seen delivering the message which the prisoner had written to two other emissaries of the automaton. After a hasty conference they decided on their course of action. Not only did he receive the money the prisoner had promised him, but the emissaries gave him minute instructions regarding the rescue which they planned. A cap and a pair of goggles for the prisoner were given to the guard and he was sent on his way. Scarcely had he gone when the automaton himself entered the deserted house, and under his direction one of the emissaries wrote a note which he addressed to Ava. For with Locke out of the way it was a splendid time to take advantage of the poor girl. The note read simply, Our prisoner has confessed. Meet me at the cliff-house at eight o'clock, and bore the signature of Locke. Thus, with their plans carefully laid, the automaton and his emissaries plotted, and soon a messenger was on his way to Ava with the faked message. Meanwhile, as the day wore on, the treacherous guard returned on duty at the prison, and at the first opportunity made his way to the cell in which the emissary was Locke. In a hoarse whisper he told the fellow of the success of his mission and of the plan, slipping to him the cap and goggles through the bars. Locke had been waiting for hours impatiently on his bunk, but now was all attention, though he was careful not to betray it. As the guard left and the emissary was trying on the cap and goggles, Locke came to his cell door. Now was the time to act. He began working noiselessly and swiftly with the bolts, deftly determining just how the tumblers fell until he was able to slip the bolt. He peered into the next cell. The emissary had retired to his own bunk to await the time of rescue. Locke saw his chance and at once began unlocking the cell door. As the emissary heard him, he concluded that it was the guard come to release him and sprang from his bunk just as Locke entered. He suspected nothing until a stray ray of light fell on Locke's face. But then it was too late either for him to put up much of a fight or to make an outcry. For with a swift blow, Locke disposed of him and carried the fellow unconscious into his own cell, where he locked the door again, hurrying back to the emissary's cell, where he donned the fellow's clothes, of which he had stripped him, and appropriated the cap and goggles. Then Locke waited for the rescue that was to lead, he was sure, straight to the villains he wished to capture. At Brent Rock the fake telegram from Locke had been delivered and Ava was overjoyed to learn of his seeming success. As it happened, Zeta was in the library when the butler brought the message in, and all animation was eager to accompany Ava to the meeting-place. But Ava would not listen to it. So not many moments before eight that night, while Locke was waiting in the jail for the rescuers, Ava climbed into her speedster, eager to keep the appointment which she was convinced would clear up the mystery. In the darkness outside the jail by this time was waiting the false turnkey when an open car drove up with its motor silenced. He had been expecting it and so was ready when a heavily goggled man climbed out and signaled to him. In the back of the car was another man, also goggled, while the chauffeur alone had his face also well hidden by a cap over his eyes and his collar pulled up. Understanding perfectly the guard hurried into the jail making sure that the coast was clear and down the cell row to the cell where Locke was waiting impatiently, now dressed and hunched up in a perfect imitation of the emissary. The turnkey opened the door and whispered to Locke, who nodded gruffly, and together they sneaked quietly out. With scarcely another word outside Locke leaped into the waiting car and the four were off, leaving the false turnkey chuckling over his cleverness and ready to make a getaway. Locke glanced furtively from the driver to the other two passengers in the car as it sped along in the direction of the cliffs. So far everything had gone fine. When would they begin to suspect the substitution he had played on them? He revolved rapidly in his mind just what he would do under various circumstances. "'Well, old pal!' exclaimed one, clapping him on the shoulders. What does it seem to be out?' Locke replied with gruff heartiness, and the others now began to remove their goggles. Locke, however, did not do the same. They exchanged a glance. Already Ava had arrived at the cliff-house, had left her car, and was approaching on foot just as Locke with the now thoroughly aroused emissary swung into sight. With a shout to the driver, the two men in the back of the car leaped at Locke at once, and as the car stopped the chauffeur joined them. Even prepared as he was, Locke was no match for three of them, and fighting furiously all four combatants rolled over and over as they came closer to the door of an old acid mill that had joined the cliff-house. "'We must keep them from saving the girl!' panted the leader of the emissaries to the others. Inside the old building stood some huge tanks of acid, and as they rolled nearer and nearer to them it became evident that Locke was in their power. Suddenly one emissary reached out and secured a coil of rope which he unwound quickly. The others too saw their chance. It was fiendish. Round and round they wound the rope until they had Locke well nigh helpless. Then one of them cast the end of the coil over a beam, all seized the end as it fell on the other side, and Locke found himself dangling head downward from the beam, suspended over the vat of acid. They were about to drop him into it when one, more alert and more fiendish than the rest, cried out, "'Look!' Through a window now they could see Ava, and back of her the terrible figure of the automaton, stocking. She had walked directly into the trap, but the fight with Locke had delayed the emissaries. Wildly now Ava was running over the lawn, full in the direction of the acid-room from the cliff-house. "'Quick!' directed the emissary. She'll come in that door, fasten the rope on it. Then his own sweetheart will drop him into the acid.' It was only a matter of seconds, as the screams of Ava came closer and closer, for the emissaries to carry the rope and jam it into the door through which pretty soon Ava would run to take refuge from the pursuing automaton. Then they slunk back through a rear door, with muttered taunts to Locke, who struggled in the tangle of rope as he felt the stinging fumes of the acid below. Outside Ava, who had realized at last that it was a trap and had no thought that Locke might be anywhere about, fled toward the acid-room, while the emissaries hid, ready to seize her as she opened the door, which was to plunge her lover into a horrible death in the acid seething below him. CHAPTER XII 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 someone 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 Underseas 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 airline 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, Zeta 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 he 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 anyone 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 Zeta 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. Zeta 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 Zeta. She removed the headpiece of the dictograph, slammed it back into the desk drawer from which she had taken it and hurried out. In the library Locke, having persuaded Ava, 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 today. 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 Ava had called her car and together Locke and Ava drove to the nearby cove where there was a little launch which he planned to use. Out into the river they sailed Ava 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 Ava took charge of the air pump, Locke donned the diving suit. Soon all was ready and Locke descended over the side after carefully instructing Ava in each detail. Ava started pumping while with her other hand she carefully paid out the airline and signal cord. But in their close attention to the task in hand neither had noticed a low knife-like 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 in the bottom of the sea? Whence did he come? Locke could not guess. For, like Ava, 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 underwater 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 seawater, 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 Ava. After he had gone over the side of their launch, Ava was naturally very intent upon keeping him plentiful 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 Ava's launch, in the cockpit of the other boat stood the automaton. Not for an instant did Ava 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 fisherfolk were putting out offshore 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 Ava 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 Ava was restored, and all headed again to the shore, eager to help Locke. As he assisted Ava 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 Deluxe Dora, over Paul's manner of life, and his ill luck in winning Ava'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 Balcombe. 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 Balcombe, 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 Ava, who answered, Don't let Mr. Rock come to the dock! he managed to gasp. He'll be killed! Then he collapsed and fainted. Ava 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 Lock before he reached the dock. She dashed out to the garage, realizing that it was almost hopeless, since Lock 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, Lock 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. Lock was quickly bound with ropes and forced into the engine case. The cover was put on and they nailed it down solidly. To make a 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 Ava came running down the dock in wild search to intercept lock. 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 depth. 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 Ava'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. Ava knew not what to do. Instinctively she knew that it was lock. 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 lock, 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 Ava poised herself a moment on the edge of the dock and leaped far out into the blackness of the river. End of Chapter 12 Recording by Roger Maline Chapter 13 of The Master Mystery This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Roger Maline The Master Mystery by John W. Gray and Arthur B. Reeve Chapter 13 The box that held lock a prisoner was now undoubtedly resting on the slimy bottom. Ava had totally disappeared. The automaton, convinced that at last he had rid himself of his victims, waved away the emissaries and departed. Except for the tiny lights of ships on the river and the staccato exhaust of a tugboat, the river flowed with nothing to remind one of the two tragedies of only a few seconds ago. As far as the eye could see the surface of the water was unbroken. Then suddenly the scene changed, for from out of the water, as though hurled up by a catapult, shot a man's body. It was lock. By what miracle had he escaped from the watery grave? From the time he was a small boy, the study of locks and bolts, of knots and straight jackets, of anything that could restrain or bind a man, had held a marvelous fascination for him. Until now he was recognized as one of the world's greatest experts on these subjects. The great lock concerns often sent for him to test new inventions, and invariably he could point to any flaw in the constructions of them that existed. As he came to manhood his knowledge had grown apace until to many he seemed a veritable sorcerer. It was by a trick known only to himself that he had been able to extricate himself from his desperate plight at the river's bottom. True, his flesh was lacerated. True, he was on the verge of total collapse, but he lived. He made his way slowly toward the dock and was resting against one of the piles when he heard a faint cry. He strained his ears to locate the direction once it came. Once again that feeble call floated across the water, and in it there sounded something vaguely familiar. He was more rested now, and he swam farther under the dock. Again came the cry. With a thrill now he recognized the voice. Ava! he called again and again. Here I am! came back the echo. With a powerful stroke he breasted the current, and in a moment he was supporting her half-fainting body. Precarious though their position was, Locke felt the thrill of her words. The effect was to spur him on to fresh efforts. Ava had become stronger now. For a few moments he swam, in order, if possible, to find some means by which they might escape from the water and reach the dock. They had no way of knowing, but that the automaton and his emissaries might still be lurking above, ready to thrust them back into the water or to reserve for them some even more terrible fate. But it was a risk that they realized must be taken, and at once. An attempt to swim to another dock could end only disastrously. Locke soon returned with the cheering news that he had discovered a ladder that came even to the surface of the water, a landing for small boats. More than that he had mounted the ladder, and from a short survey he had seen no sign of their enemies. Carefully aiding Ava, Locke swam to this ladder, and soon they stood upon the dock, safe. With great caution they moved toward the street, and without harm, finally passed beneath the arched gates again and were in the city street. Ava went at once to her father's room. His condition was one of great weakness. The laughing madness had abated him so far that the poor victim was so weak that the spasms could not maintain a very violent form. Ava practiced all those little kindnesses which are known only to women, and tears were in her eyes as she stroked his poor gray head. How terrible was it that after all they had attempted, all that they had suffered, they should still stand defeated in their aim to get the antidote that would cure her father's malady. However, the brave girl was not one to admit herself beaten, and even as she sat there she was planning new ways to discover who were her terrible adversaries and to bring defeat to them. At Brent Rock the next morning an aged inventor named Winters arrived before Locke was downstairs and was shown into the library to wait. Locke soon descended from the laboratory and went into the room to meet him. But Winters was so agitated that at first he could hardly speak. It was some moments before he gained control. What can I do for you, sir? inquired Locke, although he knew the man must be one wronged by the patents company. One of my inventions was returned to me when I protested once, the man replied, but nothing has been done about two others. Please try to have a little further patience, pleaded Locke. Everything is being done to assure justice to all. But, Mr. Locke, the man persisted, I must insist on the return or the immediate marketing of the two inventions now in the possession of international patents, or I will— he paused, for Ava had entered and was overhearing what Winters was demanding. I am sure that as my father returned one of your inventions, she interrupted, he would wish me to return the other two, and I shall do so at once. Mr. Locke, will you be so kind as to get them? Locke immediately left the room and descended to the graveyard of genius for the two models. In the laboratory above were Balcom and Zeta, for she had told him of her discovery of the dictograph. Balcom had the headpiece firmly clamped over his head and was drinking in the purport of the conversation down in the library. Zeta was almost beside herself with curiosity, as Balcom repeated only scraps of the conversation that went on below, but finally the real subject of the whole matter was repeated to her and she was satisfied at last. A peculiar look came into her eyes. As for Balcom one would have thought that a whole world's treasure had suddenly been placed within his grasp. Yet each was cautious not to betray too much to the other. Over the dictograph came the words spoken by Ava. Mr. Locke and I will come to your workshop at eight this evening to complete the transaction. Locke in the meantime had brought the two models into the library and the inventor had almost danced with joy at seeing the children of his brain again. Sent down by Balcom, Zeta had been ordered to spy on Ava and Locke. She had been nearly caught by Locke as he was returning from the graveyard of genius, but had slipped behind a pair of porthiers at the end of the hall and had emerged only when Locke had entered the library. She had crept close to the door and was listening. She too now heard the inventor exact a promise from Ava and Locke not to fail to be at his workshop at eight that night. Zeta had but a second to glide backward from the door as the inventor came out into the hallway where she stood. He gazed at her in such a strange, fixed manner that an uncanny feeling came over her. Then he passed out, just as Balcom came down the stairs. Why did that man look at me in such a strange manner, she queried of Balcom? A moment Balcom considered her, as though undecided to speak, then made up his mind. Because, he replied slowly, he knows the secret of your birth, knows who you really are. Zeta had no further chance to question Balcom, for at this instant Ava and Locke, still carrying the inventions, were leaving the library. Locke turned down again toward the stairway leading to the graveyard of genius, while Ava, nodding pleasantly to Zeta and Balcom, mounted the stairs leading to her father's room. Zeta turned questioningly again to Balcom. Half of everything that girl possesses rightfully belongs to you, he whispered. Zeta apparently did not understand. What shall I do to obtain my rights? she asked. Do, as I say, returned Balcom as he left quickly. It was some hours later that in the dark corner of the graveyard of genius, the huge rock slowly swung outward. There was a clanging and clanking of metal. Two fiery eyes gleamed through the aperture and outstocked the hideous monster, the automaton. With strange ominousness it went directly to the two models which Locke had returned, took them, turned and went back through the great gap in the wall from which it had come. Again slowly the huge rock swung back into place. Locke, with some sort of intuition, had deduced that young Paul Balcom, by his very absence, might have played a leading part in all the events in which both Ava and himself had been thwarted and almost killed. Accordingly he determined to find and trail Paul. It was some time after the models had been stolen in his absence that, in a taxi cab, Locke, having gone from place to place which he knew Paul frequented, at last cut sight of him leaving a dance-hall of very ill repute. Paul was just stepping into a car which whisked him off rapidly and Locke gave an order to his own driver to follow him. They wove in and out of various streets and finally turned up the drive where, after a few minutes, Paul's car came to a stop before a palatial apartment house and Paul alighted. Looking up and down the drive and seeing nothing to cause him suspicion, Paul entered the house. Locke carefully noted the address, then leaned back in his cab to await developments. Paul was taken to the third floor and there was admitted to a gorgeous apartment. "'I thought you'd never get here,' languidly greeted the feline, deluxe Dora. She led him to a chaise lounge seductively, taking care, however, that he should see a pile of unpaid bills that lay upon a table near it. Paul was not entirely at his ease and wasted no time in coming to the point. "'Look here, Dora,' he began, "'I know you can't run this shack on air. I got your note this morning. I've been busy and I've got an idea. I've made up my mind to take a couple of those inventions the company owns and sell them. It means coin.' Dora's eyes gleamed avariciously. "'Be patient,' Paul added, "'and I'll have you swimming in gold.' At this juncture three young fellows of the cabaret type, better known as Lounge Lizards, were admitted to the apartment. Paul cast a glance at Dora, which clearly spelled jealousy and reproach. He knew the fellows. In fact, there were few denizens of the underworld whom he did not know. Concealing his vexation, he tried to greet them easily. The fellows returned to the salutation hastily. "'Say, Malcolm,' hastened one of them, "'someone is on your tail shadowing you.' Paul was startled and furious, but in this emergency it was Dora who thought out the plan of action. "'In a night cab,' she repeated, as the others told what they had seen outside, "'listen to me, Paul. Go to the window. "'Go to the window and show yourself. Then leave the house. This fellow Locke will investigate, and will tend to the rest.' Paul moved to the window, opened it, and stepped out on a small balcony. Dora slipped to his side, and for a moment they stood there gazing apparently at the view of the river. Then they re-entered the apartment. "'Now go, Paul,' said Dora. "'Whoever this fellow is, we'll handle him.' Paul started to get his hat, then stopped, and from his pocket drew out a small package. "'I was going to use this elsewhere,' he said, but it might come in handy to—' Dora reached for the package, but Paul withdrew it hastily. "'Careful, Dora,' he admonished. There's a small gas-bomb inside.' The five now conferred a bit, and it was agreed that, this time, the inquisitive Mr. Locke would surely trouble them no more. "'With Locke out of the way,' promised Paul to Dora, the road to our fortune is clear. A moment later Paul left the apartment, descended in the elevator, and jumped into a taxi cab, and was off. Locke from his cab had, of course, seen all this, had seen Paul and Dora on the balcony, and the departure. But he knew nothing of the three men who had gone to the same apartment. He waited until Paul passed out of sight, then stepped out of his cab, making a careful calculation as to the exact location of the woman's apartment, for he had determined to find out about her. From the haul-boy he learned that it was Deluxe Dora of whom he knew, and it was only a matter of seconds when he was admitted. Dora swept over graciously toward him. "'Will you answer me one question?' he asked, and answered to her query from her. She nodded ascent. "'How long have you known, Mr. Balcom's son?' "'He is an old friend,' she replied. I'm expecting him to return at any moment. Won't you be seated? Please excuse me, just a moment.' Before Locke could say a word, she had left the room. Left alone himself, Locke took in all the details of the room, and again and again his eye wandered to elui the fourteenth desk. Feeling certain that this woman was without doubt connected in some way with the plots, he felt justified in opening the desk to obtain evidence. He tiptoed over to it and tried to open it. It stuck at first, but after one or two silent, well-directed blows which he so well knew how to administer, the sliding panel stood unlocked. He glanced around. There was no one to be seen. He moved back the panel. There was a flash and a tiny puff of smoke. Locke coughed once, clutched at his throat, and lay gasping on the floor. Immediately the three men rushed out, carrying ropes and holding handkerchiefs to their nostrils. One ran to the window and threw it wide open, admitting gusts of air to clear away the fumes. The others began to bind Locke as Deluxe Dora appeared in the doorway and calmly directed operations. On the roof of the apartment, several moments later in the just-gathering desk, five figures might have been seen. Three men and a woman were conferring, while at their feet was a man tightly bound and unconscious. In the background was a huge water tank with a ladder leading to its brim. Suddenly the conspirators straightened up. They had come to a decision. The three men lifted the unconscious figure and bore it up the ladder. The tank was empty. One of the men jumped down into it, while the others lowered their victim after him. Then they passed down ropes. There were two spouts at the bottom of the tank through which water was pumped. Also, there were pipes running upward. To these pipes they tied Locke. Then the men climbed out and as their last fiendish act turned the water on. With a sneer Dora turned and led the way downstairs again. They'll find his body when they have to clean the tank again, she exclaimed. At Brent Rock, during the absence of Locke, Ava had donned her street clothes, since it was nearing the hour of eight when she and Locke were due to be at the inventor's workshop to render the restitution. She went downstairs and asked the butler about Locke. But the man replied that Mr. Locke had not yet returned. Ava was very uneasy by this time, and thinking to save time was about to go down to the graveyard of Genius to get the models of the two inventions when Zeta came down the hall carrying a fair-sized package which she tried hard to conceal. Ava greeted her and continued down to the cellar, as Zeta, with a sort of grim smile, left the house. Ava came to the great door, pushed the secret spring, and in a moment was inside the gloomy place. She went directly to the spot where the two inventions had been kept. They were gone. Alarmed, she rushed upstairs. Still, Locke did not return. Nor did any word come from him. It was now very near to eight. Ava decided to go, for surely Locke would be there. When Zeta arrived at the inventor's, in her hands was still the mysterious package. She carried it gingerly, then raised it to her ear. From within it there came a faint ticking sound. What was inside? She looked at her wristwatch. It was still some minutes before eight. She knocked at the inventor's door. The inventor at once admitted her. It was a neat little workshop in which every detail had been thought out with care. The home, one might say, of a methodical workman. The inventor manifested some surprise at seeing Zeta, but politely asked her to enter and offered her a chair. Zeta declined and plainly showed her nervousness. Will you please give this package to Mr. Locke and Ms. Brent when they come at eight? She asked. Winters agreed and accepted the package, looking quizzically at her as he did so, just as he had earlier in the day. Zeta, unable to control her curiosity, burst out with the question uppermost on her mind. Why do you look at me in such a strange manner? She queried. The inventor merely turned his gaze away and shrugged. Mr. Balcom tells me you know the secret of my birth, pressed Zeta. The inventor looked up quickly. Who did Mr. Balcom say you were? he asked. He told me that I was Brent's daughter, replied Zeta, keenly watching the aged face. Balcom lied to you, hastened the inventor. Already there was a ponderous tread on the stairs, but Winters did not seem to notice it. You are not Brent's daughter, he pursued more slowly. The door opened swiftly and an emissary stood framed there, a knife poised in his hand. Behind him stood the automaton. You are, at that instant, the inventor caught sight of the intruders. With a look of horror in his eyes, he threw out his hands to protect himself, but he was too late. The knife whizzed through the air, and a second later pierced his throat. He fell to the floor, dead. At the moment when the emissary, followed by the automaton, entered, Zeta, watching her chance, managed to escape from the room, stumbled, and almost half fell down the stairs. Already in the huge water tank that stood in the roof of the apartment of Dora, Locke had revived as he felt the water, and had found himself already half submerged with the water rapidly pouring in. At first he could not grasp his terrible predicament, but before long the full horror of it burst on him, and he struggled madly to free himself. Since his body was stretched at full length, it was impossible to use the ordinary tricks of which he was master. His arms were bound, and he well knew that to release one of them constituted his sole chance of escape. He contracted his muscles, and inch by inch he worked his right arm free. By this time the water had risen until he was fairly beneath its surface. Could he last long enough to free himself? He worked frantically. Finally, with his lungs almost bursting, he managed to free the other arm, then the rope that bound his neck. To release his feet was, to him, child's play, and he stood up. But the water had risen almost to the top of the tank before he was able to grasp its brim and draw himself out. Once on the roof there was only one thought in his mind. It was nearing eight o'clock, and if Ava kept the appointment at the inventors, he knew his adversary's well enough to be sure that they would take advantage of his absence. He dashed down the stairs and out of the building. Dora and her evil band could wait. He must reach the inventor's shop. As the second sped, so increased his premonition that all would not be well there. It was at the moment that Zeta came flying down stairs that lock burst into the hallway to the inventors. Zeta saw him. Above, she knew was the terrible automaton and his bloodthirsty emissary. More horrible yet, she had her fears of the package that had been given her by Balcom to deliver. You must not go up there! she cried impulsively, flinging her arms about lock's neck. Lock tried to remove her arms as he questioned her. But Zeta either would not or could not tell more. Instead she merely clung to him. Thus it was that Ava, determined at keeping her appointment with the inventor at all costs, entered the hallway at just this unproprietist moment. To her it looked as if Lock and Zeta were very familiar. Could it be that Quentin was such a cad? She could not deny the evidence of her eyes. Indignantly she brushed past them and rushed up the stairs. Lock called after her, but she refused to heed him. He flung off the arms of Zeta and dashed after her. But Ava was too quick for him. She opened the door to the inventors and went in, slamming it behind her. The Lock snapped. In an instant Ava saw what she had fled into. There was the automaton, near him the emissary with the knife, and on the floor their victim in a pool of blood. She shrieked and tried to escape, but the Lock had snapped. Besides, the emissary, now directed by the monster, blocked her retreat. Outside Lock pounded on the door, but could not open it. It was of stout oak and would take some moments to break down. The emissary circled in one direction. Ava turned, and there was the automaton advancing on her from the other side of the room. On the table the Clockwork Bomb, delivered by Zeta, whether with full knowledge or not, ticked out the last few seconds before its timing at precisely eight.