the night with this woman whom she instinctively dreaded, whom she had
every reason to distrust, many times on the trip Eva wished herself back
at her home.

On the other hand, to remain inactive while there was a chance to save
her father's life was unthinkable. And so, for his sake, she kept on and
the car sped ahead.

Dora, on the contrary, anxious to allay Eva's fears, was very voluble,
expressing many sentiments which even to a young girl of little worldly
experience were palpably at variance with the woman's character.

In and out of the narrow streets of the city's lower quarter the car
twisted and turned, and at last entered gaily decked Chinatown, where it
came to a halt.

If Eva was afraid before she was now doubly so. The strange Oriental
faces which seemed to leer at her from street and curb seemed to be
almost of another world, and she thought of the many tales she had
heard, of their treachery and cunning.

Dora, sensing what was passing through her mind, kept up a patter of
small talk as she urged Eva forward.

By another entrance than the one that led through the Chinese curio-shop
they entered the Joss-house and came to the worshiping-room of the
temple.

Eva gazed fearfully about her now at all the fantastic decorations with
which she was surrounded. Her only comfort was the handle of the
automatic that the butler had pressed on her as she was leaving home.

"This Madagascan with the antidote," asked Eva, tremulously, "where is
he?"

"Don't worry, dearie," quieted Dora. "Wait a moment here and I will
bring him."

Dora turned on her heel and left the temple by the door leading into the
beautiful lounging-room beyond.

Eva stood transfixed by the solemn awfulness of the place and the grim
visage of the fire god. Why had she been brought to such a place? What
new terrors awaited her here?

She seemed alone--yet was she?

She felt a thousand eyes regarding her, as though a thousand dangers
lurked to destroy her just beyond those fearful walls.

She was staring now at the god. What made his eyes gleam so banefully?

She thought she heard a sound!

Was the wall at the right of the statue moving? Or was it merely her
heightened imagination?

Fascinated, she watched.

Yes, she was sure now. Slowly, slowly a portion of that wall was
actually sliding back.

Now she saw a hand. Then an arm followed. With a slow, gliding movement
that even to Eva's strained ears was noiseless, a man, his back toward
her, slid into the room.

Eva, shrinking back, wanted to shriek. But instead she whipped out the
automatic and in an instant had the man covered.

The man was still evidently unconscious of her presence. But suddenly he
must have heard Eva move. For he wheeled around, and instinctively his
hands went above his head.

As for Eva, the cry that she had suppressed at his appearance was
suppressed no longer, for the man whom she held at her mercy was--Locke!

"How did you come here?" gasped Eva.

Hurriedly he told her his story--how he felt that the clue that would
lead to the unraveling of this mystery was now to be found in Chinatown,
how he had made his way, therefore, to the Chinese quarter, how he had
tracked the Madagascan.

Knowing the futility of trying to enter any private place of the
Orientals, much less their temple, in Occidental garb, he had waylaid a
Chinaman in an alley, had stripped him, and had changed clothes with
him.

Disguised thus, Locke had managed to enter, to observe, and was only now
on his way to summon assistance. For he had decided to have the place
raided. Only now he was stricken almost dumb with astonishment at being
confronted by Eva.

There was no time for more. Before Eva could explain her own presence
there the door burst open, the panels slid back, and a horde of
emissaries and Chinamen swarmed about them.

Eva fired her automatic again and again, but could not stay the rush.

Locke fought with the courage of despair. But they were too many and
soon bore him down.

As they carried Locke into the chamber of torture the last thing he saw
was Eva surrounded by her foes, who were closing in on the poor girl.

Towering above them all, he saw the gigantic form of the Automaton.

In the torture-chamber Locke was shackled hand and foot to the
partition, while the noose of the garroting-machine was placed about his
neck.

The Madagascan supervised this work, then waved the emissaries out of
the room. They were alone there now, these two--the professional
murderer and his victim.

With a sneer the Madagascan turned and went to the other side of the
partition where the wheel was by which the noose was tightened,
strangling the victim.

But the Strangler little knew with whom he had to deal, for already
Locke was struggling at his shackles.

With almost incredible dexterity Locke succeeded in loosening them, one
after the other, so that, as the Madagascan started to turn the wheel,
Locke, with a marvelous effort, bracing his feet against the wall and
grasping the staples to which the shackles had been attached, managed to
pin-wheel his body around and around, as the Strangler turned the iron
wheel that tightened the noose which was to stifle out his life.

Fortunately the Madagascan turned slowly, so that Locke managed to turn
his body faster than the wheel was being turned, thus gaining on the
noose and at each revolution loosening it a trifle.

Another quick turn of his body, the pressure against his neck had become
less!

Yet another complete circle, and, tearing at the noose, he managed to
get his head free.

It was the work of only an instant to dash around the partition and beat
the Strangler to the floor. Another instant, and he had torn back the
panel into the temple.

The sight that confronted him was sickening.

Two fiends were holding Eva close to the floor, while now from the fire
god's eyes a blinding glare of flame blazed forth, the two rays
converging and scorching the very ground as they traveled slowly nearer
and nearer, in their fatal focus, to the helpless girl.

With a wild shout, Locke charged on them all.

Taken by surprise, the brutes holding Eva were easy to handle, for the
others had gone.

Fortunately, the automatic which Eva had been carrying was lying,
neglected, on the floor. Locke snatched it up and, shooting one of the
thugs, managed to cower the other.

Half supporting Eva, he retreated through the torture-chamber into an
outer room. There was no time to lose. Already the alarm had been spread
to the other emissaries and Chinamen, and it was only a matter of
seconds when all the murderous crew would again be piling after them.

Locke looked about in desperation. There was a window. He flung it open.
Below, the air-shaft or court was blind. But there was a balcony by
which he could reach an adjoining low roof. He had no idea where it
might lead, but any unknown danger was preferable to the known dangers
that threatened behind him.

Through the window he passed with Eva, and so across balconies and roofs
until they came to a fire-escape, which they descended.

In another moment they were free of Chinatown.

Many a curious glance was cast at them, a young girl, well gowned, and a
disheveled white man in Chinese garb.

Locke hailed a night-hawk cabman and they were soon speeding on their
way back to safety and Brent Rock.



CHAPTER XXI


At the cove fishing-village, set on the extreme outskirts of the town,
there stood an old fisherman's shack that was shunned by all the good
folk of the city.

While there was nothing definite that could be said of the evil deeds of
the inhabitants, there was much shaking of heads and wagging of tongues
to the effect that all was not as it should be at the cove.

The owner of the old shack, Old Tom, was an ill-favored, taciturn man
who would have naught to do with any of his neighbors, and asked only
that they keep out of his path and leave him alone. He even evinced an
aversion to dogs and to little children, driving them away from his
shack whenever he found them near it.

The threat that "Old Tom will catch you" would make a cove
fishing-village tractable at any time.

Old Tom rarely put to sea, and when he did it was more often than not
after nightfall, a time when the good folk of the village were preparing
for a night's rest.

It was stated by one old crony that often at night other men came to Old
Tom's shack, that they entered slyly, and that well into the morning
revelry, and often oaths and brawls, could be heard from within.

Some hinted that Old Tom was a smuggler; others, even, that he was a
wrecker. True it was that often strange lights were seen to flicker
outside the bar to the cove.

Also there had been wrecks, and often, in the morning, when the
fishermen put out to a wreck, after a storm, it would be discovered that
some one had been there before them, since valuable and readily portable
parts of the wreck were frequently missing.

But while suspicion pointed to Old Tom and the strange men that
frequented his place, proofs positive of a crime were invariably
lacking, and so the village tolerated Old Tom's presence and predicted
his bad end.

It was to this shack that there came very early one morning, before the
break of day, a wounded man assisted by a woman. The woman gave a
peculiar rap at the door. There was a quick scurry inside, as of
fast-moving feet, then silence.

The woman rapped again, and this time with more force. After a moment a
sash was raised and a querulous voice demanded what was wanted.

"It's De Luxe Dora and Paul Balcom, and he's wounded. Quick, open the
door!"

There was a rush to open the door now and rough hands gently assisted
the wounded man to a seat inside.

While Paul was not perhaps so dangerously wounded, yet it was easy to be
seen that the wound was not to be trifled with, for the cut had been
severe and the blood flowed copiously.

Dora, whatever her attitude toward others, had a true solicitude for
Paul, and all the womanliness of her nature came to the surface as she
tenderly bathed Paul's head and attempted to bind the wound with the
rough bandages at hand.

There were several tough-looking men standing about, and from their
ready sympathy, real or feigned, it was easy to be seen that these men,
too, like the others of the underworld, stood ready to do Paul's
slightest bidding, to guard him with their lives if need be.

What was this strange power that this man, scarcely more than a youth,
wielded over these outlawed men?

"Quick!" exclaimed Dora. "Watch the window. We've probably been
followed."

A grim-visaged man moved lumberingly over to the window and glued his
head against the pane, straining his eyes as he peered out.

For a long time he did not move, while, with the others grouped around,
Dora tried to stanch the flow of blood from Paul's injured head.

Suddenly the watcher at the window turned and shouted, "Man comin' up
the lane!"

Instantly there was confusion within the shack. The men scattered in all
directions, while one old hag, the only woman in the shack besides Dora,
hobbled over to a stool and took up the mending of a huge net where she
had left off.

Old Tom ambled over to Dora and for a moment they talked hurriedly.
Finally Dora came to a decision, as she pointed to the old rickety
stairway to an attic above.

"Carry him to the attic," she directed. "He can be well hidden there. As
for the rest of you, remember, no one has come here to-night."

Two of the men lifted Paul, who, while not in an absolutely unconscious
condition, was much too weak by this time from loss of blood to assist
himself.

They carried him up the stairs and into an old, disused room to which
Dora followed, and when the two men had descended the stairs she
remained, alternately ministering to Paul and listening for what might
happen below.

Paul and Dora had left the main room of the shack not a moment too soon.
For barely had the two men who had carried Paul to the attic returned
when a face was momentarily seen outside, while a pair of eyes peered
into the room.

A moment later there was a peremptory knock at the door.

"Come in!" growled Old Tom.

With eyes that scanned every cranny and nook and searched every face,
Locke stepped into the shack.

The men came forward a step, then halted. There was something in Locke's
face that showed that he was in deadly earnest and not to be trifled
with.

Locke looked from one to the other, then turned to Old Tom. "The wounded
man who was brought here," he demanded, "where is he?"

"There 'ain't been no wounded man brought here," retorted Old Tom.

The men crowded a little closer, all denying vehemently that any one had
entered.

At this instant a drop of blood fell on Locke's sleeve from the ceiling
above. Quickly he checked the impulse to look up, although he was
startled by it. He recovered himself on the instant and waited until
under a pretext he could divert their attention to something else. Then
he glanced hastily upward, as they looked in another direction. There,
forming slowly, was another drop of blood, and it was about to fall.

Locke had gained his object. As surely as though he had been brought
face to face with Paul, he knew that he was lying on the floor of the
attic above.

Single-handed, against so many and in this shack, Locke realized that he
could do nothing. He apologized gruffly for his intrusion, conveying the
impression that he felt he had made a mistake, and backed his way to the
door.

In an instant the door to the attic stairs was flung open and Dora
rushed into the room.

"You fools!" she snarled at the surprised men who were just
congratulating themselves on how they had put one over on Locke. "I tell
you he's wise. He saw the blood. Look up above you. Now go get him."

But the fishermen had no desire for this outside work and hung back,
while Dora raved at them.

From the ceiling, drop by drop, blood was falling, forming a little pool
on the floor. Paul could not be moved now. They must make the best of it
and be ready for any raid Locke might prepare.

At Brent Rock Eva was conversing with her lawyer. Matters had reached
such a state in the affairs of International Patents that it was
evident, even to her, that some drastic action must be taken, and at
once.

In a corner of the room, coiled up in a big armchair, Zita was
apparently reading a new magazine, but was, in reality, listening
intently to every word that was being uttered.

Finally Eva and the lawyer were in full accord, and she accompanied the
elderly attorney to the door. As they parted, Zita strained her ears to
hear the last words. She did not get it all, but quite enough to tell
her what they had decided upon.

"As my lawyer," she overheard Eva say, "I wish you to have Mr. Locke
appointed receiver."

There was some more she missed, but that was quite enough for Zita. She
got out of the chair quickly and left the room without being observed,
and a few moments later she had left the house.

In a telephone-booth, not far from the cove fishing-village, Locke by
this time had his chief of the Department of Justice on the wire.

"I've located him, Chief," he telephoned, excitedly, "but it will take
four good men to capture him."

"I'll send them at once," the chief replied, as both hung up their
receivers hurriedly.

Meanwhile, in Herbert Balcom's sumptuous, semi-Oriental apartment two
men were in earnest conversation. One was the owner, Balcom, the other
that strange, half-demented being, Doctor Q, whose mind now, for the
moment, seemed to be lucid.

The matter under discussion was undoubtedly a weighty one, for both men
sat with knitted brows, and for the moment, at least, seemed in a
quandary about something.

Suddenly there came a hurried ringing at the outside-door bell and
Balcom leaped to his feet. They could hear the door opened, quick
footsteps in the hallway, and then, without ceremony, the door was flung
open and Dora burst into the room.

Balcom scowled a welcome, for he hated this woman, who had, as he
thought, spoiled the chances of his son with Eva. But Dora did not wait
for the threatened outburst.

"Hurry!" she cried. "You must do something. Paul has been wounded--never
mind how--but he lies in a fishing-shack down at the cove--and they are
going to arrest him--Locke is!"

For the moment both men seemed to be stricken dumb, while Dora, in a
state of wild excitement, pleaded for them to do something--anything to
save the one person she loved.

It was at this juncture that the door opened again, admitting another
woman. It was Zita, very agitated, though, of course, under better
control than Dora. Besides, Zita did not know what had happened to Paul,
nor did she love him. It was merely that she felt that things could be
made to play into her own hands if the news she brought were immediately
acted upon.

Hastily she told what she had overheard about the proposed receivership,
and all four now--Balcom, Doctor Q, Dora, and Zita--talked excitedly.

But it was plainly Balcom who was in command of the situation. Although
livid with rage at the news he had heard, yet he maintained control of
the others, directing what they should do with a decisiveness that was
truly remarkable. It showed the mental force of the man, demonstrating
how greatly he was to be feared by any bold enough to be his enemy. For
Balcom loved that spoiled son of his and would hesitate at no act, not
even at a crime, to save him from even what he justly deserved.

At last their plan was formed, and all four departed their several ways
to execute it.

Balcom had decided upon going directly to Brent Rock. His ire had not
abated one iota during the trip, either, and, as he almost ran up the
steps to the mansion, he pushed the astounded butler to one side as
though he were merely a piece of furniture.

"Tell Miss Brent I want to see her at once," he threatened.

The butler raised a hand deprecatingly at Balcom's tone, but Balcom,
beside himself, smashed it down and strode toward the library just as
Eva, hearing the voices, was coming out. For an instant she drew back in
apprehension and amazement as Balcom advanced on her, still snarling.

"See here, Eva," he hissed, "if Locke tries to arrest my son--he'll be
killed."

For the instant Eva was stunned. What did the man mean? But as Balcom
showed no signs of regaining control of himself, and every moment became
more abusive and violent, indignation gave place to every other
sentiment, and she sharply ordered Balcom to leave the house.

Threatening dire things and hinting even more if there were a
receivership, Balcom strode out.

Eva stood for a long time shocked into inaction. Then, slowly, fears for
Locke's safety came uppermost and she paced back and forth the length of
the hall.

Finally the old butler came to her deferentially.

"And did you notice, ma'am," he asked, "that during his tirade he
mentioned about a cove fishing-village? Might I suggest that that is
where Mr. Paul is and Mr. Locke will not be found far off?"

Eva thought a moment, recognized the sound sense of the remark, and
ordered that her car be brought. A few moments later she had taken the
wheel and was soon out of sight of Brent Rock.

Close pressed against a wall of a back lane of the cove fishing-village,
Locke was standing, waiting for the men whom his chief had promised to
send.

Finally they came to him, first making their coming known to Locke by a
peculiar low whistle.

"The other two will be along directly," whispered one of the pair.
"Thought it better not to come in a bunch."

As Locke laid his plans, the other two came from out of the shadows.

The entire party now moved cautiously toward Old Tom's shack. Just
before they arrived one of the men said that he could see two figures
entering the place. But as Locke had seen nothing, no attention was paid
to the remark.

Locke now placed one of his men on either side of the door. The other
two he sent to the rear, so that they could surround the gang.

He knocked at the door. This time it was immediately opened. Followed by
the detectives with revolvers drawn, Locke rushed boldly into the shack,
while his other two men closed in from the rear.

The emissaries, finding themselves surrounded, would have capitulated,
probably without a struggle, had not the old hag, to whom no one had
paid much attention, picked up a small anchor and thrown it at Locke and
the advancing detectives.

As it was, the anchor struck Locke a glancing blow and he stumbled
backward against one of his own men, upsetting him. That, of course,
gave the advantage to the thugs, and they advanced, attacking savagely.

It was at too close quarters, in the midst of such a melee, to use guns
without danger of getting one of one's own party. Thus it was a
primitive battle of brute force.

Locke and the detectives were trained men, however, and were surely
gaining the upper hand, so much so that Locke managed to tear himself
loose and dash for the door leading to the attic. He opened it, and
there, with revolver leveled at his head, stood De Luxe Dora.

It was the work of only an instant to disarm her, however, and he rushed
up the stairs, Dora after him.

There was a body lying on the floor--Paul, undoubtedly, thought Locke.

He took it by the shoulder and turned it over, then fell back in
amazement, for there, smiling mockingly at him, was Zita!

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?" jeered Dora.

But it was no time to bandy words, and Locke left them and rushed down
the stairs just as a horde of emissaries swarmed up to meet him,
reinforcements to the fisher thugs.

For in some way the Automaton had been warned of Locke's presence, and
with all the emissaries it could summon had hastened to Old Tom's shack.

Most unfortunate of all, the Automaton and its men had arrived just
behind the car bearing Eva, and she, not suspecting the danger, had
entered the shack.

Although she did not see Locke, she was overjoyed to see that the
detectives held the upper hand. She had started to search for him, when
there came a terrifying crash at the door and more emissaries, followed
by the Automaton, came into the room.

The detectives were almost instantly overpowered, and the mob made for
the stairs just as Locke was descending.

In that narrow space a most terrible battle took place. Man after man
Locke hurled against his fellows, and they went crashing down, only to
rise again and attack.

Finally they came to hand-grips, and Locke, lunging furiously to free
himself, threw his body against the partition of the stairway and it
came crashing down, hurling Locke and the emissaries to the floor below.

Locke was badly stunned, and before he could rise the emissaries had
swathed him in the huge net that the old hag had been mending. Next they
bound him with ropes until he was utterly helpless in the meshes of the
net.

Eva, half crazed with horror, was in a far corner, and the Automaton was
advancing upon her. She was paralyzed with fear.

What fate was in store for her--what for Locke?



CHAPTER XXII


The sharp crack of an automatic echoed through the shack. The detective
known as Jim had come back to consciousness, and now, from behind an
overturned table where he had fallen, he started to fire shot after shot
into the mob of emissaries.

He had fallen in a far corner and could be reached only after an attack
of some paces, and even the emissaries, numerous as they were, hesitated
to advance on a determined man placed in such an advantageous position.
Furthermore, the diversion caused by the shots had other effects. The
sound of the shots brought Locke fully out of his stunned condition and
he started to struggle frantically in the meshes of the net that held
him prisoner.

The Automaton, for the moment, ceased to follow Eva, and moved over to
its men in order to take command and to direct their movements, while
yet another detective came to his senses and began to threaten the mob.

Locke was threshing about and was slowly but surely freeing himself. An
emissary threw a chair, and for a moment Locke lay still in pain. But in
another moment he was working even more frantically at the ropes and the
net that held him.

Eva started over to help him, but he shouted to her to stand back, since
that would bring her in line with the detectives' fire. The shots were
flying over Locke's body as he struggled. Some of the emissaries went
down; others found places of refuge behind which they hid.

Finally Locke managed to kick his feet free of the net and, rolling and
tossing, managed to work the meshes up about his shoulders and neck,
thus releasing his hands. It was the work of an instant only, now, to
slip the enveloping net over his head and he was free.

Locke rolled out of the direction of the revolver-shots and toward Eva,
who was now standing before a huge open fireplace.

He was none too soon, for the moment that the Automaton saw that Locke
had escaped the iron terror left the men and stalked ponderously over to
crush out Locke's life.

The two detectives fired point-blank at the monster and both shots took
effect with a ringing, metallic sound. But they did not halt the
Automaton an instant. Locke, reaching the fireplace, seized a pair of
old tongs and threw firebrand after firebrand in the path of the
advancing terror.

To the Automaton fire was evidently quite another affair from mere puny
bullets, for it not only paused, but came to a full stop, looking around
as though in a quandary as to what to do against such a defense.

This moment of hesitation gave Locke and Eva their opportunity. Calling
to the detectives to cease firing a moment, they passed between friends
and foes, dashed over to and up the attic stairs.

As they reached the attic above they were just in time to see Zita,
still dressed in Paul's clothes, and Dora, jump from the attic window.

Although it was a low, rambling building, still it was a high jump, even
for a man, and Locke was astounded that they should attempt such a
thing, even in their undoubted state of panic.

However, it gave Locke a splendid idea, which he acted upon immediately.
Hooking his feet on the window-frame, he took hold of Eva's wrists
firmly and swung her far out of the window. Held in this way, Eva was
only a few feet from the ground, and when Locke released her she landed
safely and almost without a jar.

For Locke, always in perfect training, the jump offered no difficulties.
In an instant he had rejoined her and they were running away from the
shack toward Eva's waiting car.

Locke had an almost overpowering desire to return to assist his
detectives, whom he realized might be in sore straits, but he also
realized that his first duty was to this girl who was in his charge, on
whom the events through which they had just passed had had a
nerve-racking effect. Again, he reflected, as he saw people coming down
the beach, that the Automaton and his men would soon be outnumbered and
glad to flee.

Quentin and Eva had almost reached the motor which Eva had left at some