As Locke held the paper and Eva's slender hand spun the combination lock, 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 anti-trust 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,
Following this letter was a bulky paper, or 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 intrust 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 rock-hewn 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 his 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 signaling 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 Zita, who had stolen into the conservatory and was eying them eagerly from the protection of the fronds of a palm. Zita, 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 what 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 the 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 non-committal. "This trap will tell us," was all that he would say.
Zita, hurrying out from the conservatory, and wishing to waste not an instant in notifying Balcom, sought a near-by 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 Zita's disappointment and growing fear. The Madagascan servant of Balcom answered in the absence of his master.
"Is Mr. Balcom there?" asked Zita, adding, "Or Mr. Paul?"
The black shook his head. "Neither Mr. Balcom nor Mr. Paul is at home," he replied.
Zita 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.
CHAPTER XI
It was midnight when, far down in the rock-hewn 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 Locke had set in the floor. A suppressed cry escaped from the henchman. 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, Locke 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 Locke had arranged on the wall flashed, giving the information that the trap had worked.
Out of the laboratory all piled, running down the hall, Locke paused only a second to tap on Eva's door, as she had asked, if anything happened, so that she might be present at the capture. An instant and Eva, 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 along, 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 Eva 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 portières were drawn. As he was standing there, looking about, the portières 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 portières wrapped about him.
When the department agents with Eva 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 Eva.
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 worth while."
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 bolts.
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 lay down on 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 Eva. 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 Eva 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 locked. 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 faked telegram from Locke had been delivered and Eva was overjoyed to learn of his seeming success. As it happened, Zita was in the library when the butler brought the message in, and, all animation, was eager to accompany Eva to the meeting-place. But Eva would not listen to it.
So, not many moments before eight that night, while Locke was waiting in the jail for the rescuers, Eva 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 get-away.
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, "how 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 Eva had arrived at the Cliff House, had left her car, and was approaching on foot, just as Locke with the now thoroughly aroused emissaries swung into sight.
With a shout to the driver, the two 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 adjoined the Cliff House.
"We must keep him 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 Eva, and back of her the terrible figure of the Automaton, stalking. She had walked directly into the trap, but the fight with Locke had delayed the emissaries. Wildly now Eva 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 Eva came closer and closer, for the emissaries to carry the rope and jam it into the door through which pretty soon Eva 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, Eva, 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 some one was at the door. He tried to pray and then—he crashed against the rafter. Mechanically he grasped at it and clung.
The door flew open, and there stood Eva. All the horrors of imminent death, even the pain of sorely tried muscles, were momentarily forgotten in his relief at seeing her safe and having saved himself. But not yet was he free. The emissaries had been thorough in their work, but it was not many moments before the last knot was loose and he dropped to the floor.
Locke peered stealthily about. To all appearances everything was clear. He placed his arm about Eva and they started to steal out. Well they knew that, with such enemies, not for a moment would they dare relax their caution. For them every angle and nook was a temporary haven. Slowly they drew away from the dread spot, and soon came to a more populous locality where the lights of honest shops and peaceful homes gave them a sense of greater security and brought a feeling of unreality to the horrors through which they had passed.
A taxi-driver hailed them, and in a short time they were rolling along the Cliff Drive and had arrived at Brent Rock.
It was the following day that the old butler handed Locke a letter addressed to International Patents, Incorporated, from the Diving and Salvage Company. Locke was about to read it, when Eva entered and they read it together.
"We are reliably informed," read the letter, "that the Under Seas Corporation is trying to obtain possession of the self-liberating diving-suit which you control in our interest. This must be prevented."
Locke was immediately interested. At once it occurred to him that here was a patent which the company had suppressed which might prove of incalculable value.
"This suit might be very valuable to the government," he exclaimed to Eva. "I am going to try it myself."
"Please don't," pleaded Eva. "It isn't worth it. It's not worth the risk."
Locke, however, realized that here was something of extreme importance, and as he visualized to Eva the helplessness of a deep-sea diver, his air-line cut, struggling in vain to release himself and rise to the surface, he began to win her over.
At the moment when Quentin and Eva were in the library, Zita was taking advantage and was ransacking Locke's laboratory, not with any definite purpose in mind, but searching in every nook for some clue which might tell her what he was about.
The speed with which she worked was extraordinary. Yet, before she moved an instrument, a retort, a book, its position was minutely studied, so that she could restore it to its former place without any one suspecting that it had ever been moved.
It was while she was thus occupied that her eye fell upon an instrument which aroused in her an excited interest. It was very like the headpiece used by operators of telephones, and she hastened to adjust it. In a moment it was as though she were in the library. She could hear Locke's earnest laugh and in it Zita could detect an undercurrent of tenderness. Her lips compressed and her eyes hardened as she listened. Locke was speaking about a letter and it seemed to be something important. Zita was all ears.
But Locke's next words which she heard were his decision to test the diving-suit, and as she listened she became tense, for this information she knew was important. The continued note of tenderness in Locke's voice more infuriated Zita. She removed the headpiece of the dictagraph, slammed it back into the desk drawer from which she had taken it, and hurried out.
In the library, Locke, having persuaded Eva, left her and went down into the Graveyard of Genius, where he touched the secret spring and the massive door flew open. He entered the gloomy place and went at once to the shelf upon which lay the self-liberating diving-suit. He took the suit down and examined its every detail minutely. As he did so he became more and more enthusiastic and he could find no fault with any of its features.
"It's entirely practical," he exclaimed to himself. "I'm going to try it to-day."
He closed the great door and remounted the stairs, carrying the suit with him. But had he noticed the fiery eyes that had watched him through the secret rock door of the cavern he would not have been so eager to try the test he had in mind.
By this time Eva had called her car, and together Locke and Eva drove to the near-by cove, where there was a little launch which he planned to use.
Out into the river they sailed, Eva at the wheel, while Locke busied himself over the sputtering engine. Soon they arrived at a spot which was suitable for the test of the suit.
Locke had brought along the full equipment, and, while Eva took charge of the air-pump, Locke donned the diving-suit. Soon all was ready and Locke descended over the side, after carefully instructing Eva in each detail. Eva started pumping, while with her other hand she carefully paid out the air-line and signal-cord.
But in their close attention to the task in hand, neither had noticed a low, knifelike launch that had followed them and that was now hovering a short distance off.
Locke was now walking over the shell-strewn bottom, examining curious objects here and there. The tide was setting in strongly and at times it was with difficulty that he kept his feet.
He had become satisfied that this particular suit filled all the requirements of a first-class diving-suit, and he was about to try its special, self-liberating feature, when his attention was arrested by a vague mass which seemingly moved against the current.
This was so extraordinary that his first thought was of a shark. He stopped in his tracks and became motionless, for it is a well-known fact that these sea tigers rarely see an object unless it is in motion. Still, the vague form slowly took on more distinctness as in its course it gradually drew nearer to him. It was then that Locke was almost overcome with surprise. For there, groping his way toward him, was a diver, like himself.
What was this strange being doing there on the bottom of the sea? Whence had he come? Locke could not guess. For, like Eva, he had not noticed the other launch. It seemed impossible to him. Still, to him, apart from curiosity at the appearance of the other diver, the incident had no other interest. What had he to fear from any man at the bottom of a peaceful harbor? Locke moved nearer.
The stranger allowed him to approach, stopped, even, as though he were himself amazed at Locke's appearance, and Locke made gestures to reassure the man of his good intentions.
Locke was quite close now, and through the glass gate in the other's helmet he could see his eyes. But in those eyes he could see no responding friendliness. There was a murderous hate instead. He tried to step back and place himself in a position for defense, but he was too late. For, with a movement amazingly rapid for one under water, the stranger leaped upon him, at the same time drawing a long knife. There, under the sea, commenced a battle royal.
Locke was unarmed and so from the start was at a disadvantage. The stranger seemed not so anxious to stab him as to come to close quarters, and before Locke could prevent him he had done so. With his left hand he grabbed Locke's lines, while with the other, in which was the keen knife, he slashed murderously.
Locke tried to break his grip. But the other was not to be denied. With one stroke he cut through both lines, pushing Locke backward and himself springing free at the same time.
Immediately Locke's helmet filled with sea water, while the pressure became enormous. Locke tried to hold his breath, while his hand searched for the liberating knob. He gave it one twist. It worked perfectly. Locke's suit, including the helmet, simply opened and fell from him.
Propelled as much by the pressure that the water exerted as by his own powerful strokes, Locke shot to the surface.
The day was perfect and the bay was calm. For a few seconds Locke floated, drawing the air into his starving lungs. Then he raised himself and gazed about him. At first glance everything seemed the same except for the fact that, whereas before his own boat had been alone, there were now two. Then Locke heard an agonizing call for help—from Eva.
After he had gone over the side of their launch Eva was naturally very intent upon keeping him plentifully supplied with air. He had been down some time before, glancing about, she had spied the other launch. But at the time she had thought little of it. For her, all thought of danger was centered on the man who was now risking his life many fathoms beneath her from pure motives of patriotism.
It was only, some minutes later, when she heard the grating of another boat against the side of her own that she realized that she herself stood in danger. But even at that moment her thoughts were of Quentin, who now for the first time was wholly dependent on her efforts alone. She looked up fearfully, and what she saw fairly congealed the blood in her veins. Directing a murderous emissary to board Eva's launch, in the cockpit of the other boat stood the Automaton!
Not for an instant did Eva cease her efforts at the pump. But she shrieked with terror again and again. Now, to add to that terror, the pressure on the air-pump suddenly ceased. From the depths myriads of bubbles of air arose.
Knife in hand, the emissary leaped aboard and came toward her. Automatically, frantically, she still turned the useless pump, while with her free arm she tried to ward off the poised knife.
Again her shriek for help echoed across the water—and this time her call was answered.
Had she gone mad? The voice that answered her was the voice of the man she loved. Her brain reeled and she fell at the feet of the murderous thug.
Other cries, then shouts were now heard, for some fisher folk were putting out off shore to discover what all the tumult was about.
The Automaton made a hasty gesture to the emissary, who sprang back from his victim and leaped to his own launch, where, with his assistance, there was barely time to haul aboard the chief thug, who had been sent below to attack Locke. The launch cast off and with ever-increasing speed headed down the river.
Locke was the first to arrive and climb over the side of the boat. Dripping though he was, he took Eva in his arms and bathed her face, while by this time other craft arrived and friendly hands did all they could to care for them both.
It was some minutes before Eva was restored and all headed again to the shore, eager to help Locke.
As he assisted Eva to land, and they waited for a carriage, Locke hastily offered a boatman a liberal reward for the discovery of the precious diving-suit, for it had been his intention to present the patent to the government.
Meanwhile some strange things had happened. Paul and his father had quarreled over money, over De Luxe Dora, over Paul's manner of life and his ill luck in winning Eva's affections.
At the same time Dora had become more insistent in her demands for money to meet her extravagances, and Paul conceived an idea of selling one of the patents to a rival company. Strange to say, it had been the self-liberating diving-suit and the rival company was the Under Seas Company.
All this took place some time after the disappearance of the Automaton and his precious crew.
Some hours later that evening a telephone message came for Locke from the boatman that the diving-suit had been recovered and was being held by him.
Locke replied that he would be down in an hour. But during that hour other strange things occurred. For no sooner had the boatman hung up his receiver than a pleasant voice hailed him and he left his house to investigate. It was Paul Balcom.
It was in a clever, insinuating, affable manner that Paul approached the real object of his visit. His appeal was cleverly worded, cleverly presented. The sole object was to awaken the poor boatman's cupidity.
The sum mentioned, no less a sum than five thousand dollars, would mean luxury to the poor man. And all for what? Simply to call up a stranger, a Mr. Locke, to tell him that the boatman demanded more money since he had telephoned before, that the cash was to be placed by him in an old packing-case from which a stationary engine had been removed that morning. It was just an exchange. That was all.
"Sure I'll do that," the boatman told Paul, and Paul, smiling craftily, gave him his hand to seal the bargain.
The boatman went back to his quarters and again called Brent Rock, making his new demands. Locke was tremendously indignant, but he wanted the suit quickly to prevent its falling into unscrupulous hands. He agreed and immediately started for the dock.
The boatman turned from his telephone and, picking up the suit, regarded it curiously. "Five thousand dollars," he muttered. "Five thousand dollars." And he shook his head wonderingly.
He was standing near an open window and was commencing to fold the suit preparatory to taking it to the end of the dock where lay the engine-case, when, without the slightest warning, three emissaries of the Automaton, who had appeared just a moment before on the dock, leaped through the window and felled him to the floor. He struggled feebly, but it was no use, and a final blow left him unconscious.
The emissaries next grabbed the diving-suit and left hurriedly by the way they had come. But they had not completed what it was they sought to do.
The old boatman was not as badly hurt as it seemed and was able to drag himself across the floor with just strength enough to pull the telephone from the table and call Brent Rock. Then as weakness again overcame him he managed to blurt out a message to Eva, who answered.
"Don't let Mr. Locke come to the dock," he managed to gasp. "He'll be killed." Then he collapsed and fainted.
Eva tried frantically to get the boatman again on the wire, but it was useless. Quickly a plan formed in her mind.
If she could only intercept Locke before he reached the dock!
She dashed out to the garage, realizing that it was almost hopeless, since Locke had been gone some time. Hoping against hope, she jumped into her speedster and swung out and down the road.
The fact was that even as she sped along toward the cove Locke was passing the arched gate of the dock.
He called at the boatman's little shack. Of course there was no reply. To all appearances it was deserted. Thinking to find him at the very end of the dock where he had been told to place the money, he proceeded to the engine-case.
He was slightly surprised at not finding the boatman there, but as that was no part of the agreement it engaged his attention for only a moment. He started to withdraw the money from his pocket, groping at the same time to see if the diving-suit was actually in the case.
He was bending over when suddenly there was a rush of men behind him and a blackjack in the hands of one of the ruffians just missed his head.
He fought, but their numbers were overwhelming. Like a pack of wolves they pulled him down.
Locke was quickly bound with ropes and forced into the engine-case. The cover was put on and they nailed it down solidly. To make it doubly sure this time the case was then lashed with ropes and they were knotted.
Next the emissaries carried the case to a sloping landing stage, preparatory to casting it into the river.
It was at this moment that Eva came running down the dock in wild search to intercept Locke. Wide-eyed, in the moonlight, she paused at what she saw.
The emissaries had given the packing-case its final shove. Scraping, it slid down the incline and toppled overboard. There was a great splash as it struck the water and immediately began to sink in the depths.
The engine exhaust had evidently protruded from the case, as there was a hole in its side slightly larger than a man's hand. To Eva's horror, though she had half expected it, she saw actually a hand thrust forth from this hole as if waving frantically.
The box sank lower as it rapidly filled with water.
Eva knew not what to do. Instinctively she knew that it was Locke. It was as though he had waved a last farewell.
Only the hand now showed above the surface. Finally that, too, disappeared beneath the waves.
Despairingly she turned to see if there was anything on the dock with which she might help Locke—and she saw the Automaton himself advancing from the shore toward her. She turned. The emissaries on the other end of the dock cut off any chance in that direction.
Without a moment's hesitation Eva poised herself a moment on the edge of the dock and leaped far out into the blackness of the river.
CHAPTER XIII
The box that held Locke a prisoner was now undoubtedly resting on the slimy bottom. Eva 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 the water, as though hurled up by a catapult, shot a man's body.
It was Locke.
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 strait-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 whence 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.
"Eva!" 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.
Eva 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 Eva, 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.
Eva went at once to her father's room. His condition was one of great weakness. The laughing madness had abated in so far that the poor victim was so weak that the spasms could not maintain a very violent form.
Eva practised 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 down-stairs, 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 Eva 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 Zita, for she had told him of her discovery of the dictagraph. Balcom had the headpiece firmly clamped over his head and was drinking in the purport of the conversation down in the library.
Zita 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 dictagraph came the words spoken by Eva, "Mr. Locke and I will come to your workshop at eight this evening to complete the transaction."
Locke in the mean time 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, Zita had been ordered to spy on Eva 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 portières 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 Eva and Locke not to fail to be at his workshop at eight that night.
Zita 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."
Zita had no further chance to question Balcom, for at this instant Eva and Locke, still carrying the inventions, were leaving the library. Locke turned down again toward the stairway leading to the Graveyard of Genius, while Eva, nodding pleasantly to Zita and Balcom, mounted the stairs leading to her father's room.
Zita turned questioningly again to Balcom.
"Half of everything that girl possesses rightfully belongs to you," he whispered.
Zita 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 out stalked 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 Eva 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 taxicab, Locke, having gone from place to place which he knew Paul frequented, at last caught 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 De Luxe Dora.
She led him to a chaise-longue 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 the salutation hastily.
"Say, Balcom," hastened one of them, "some one is on your trail, shadowing you."
Paul was startled and furious, but in this emergency it was Dora who thought out the plan of action.
"In a taxicab?" she repeated, as the others told what they had seen outside. "Listen to me, Paul. Go to the window and show yourself. Then leave the house. This fellow Locke will investigate—and we'll 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 taxicab 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 hall boy he learned that it was De Luxe 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, in answer to a query from her.
She nodded assent.
"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 a Louis XIV 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.