distance from Old Tom's shack, and were passing a low clump of bushes,
when a low moan fell upon their ears.

At first Locke thought that it might be a trap and was for paying no
attention to the sound, but Eva, woman-like, insisted. He investigated.
Reclining on the ground, and looking more like a little boy in man's
clothes, lay Zita.

She was holding one ankle and her face showed that she must be in great
pain.

"Help me," she moaned. "When I jumped from the window I sprained my
ankle. Dora helped me to this place and then she left me and drove
away."

Although this girl was his enemy, no thought of leaving her in this
condition entered Locke's mind. Gently raising her from the ground, with
the help of Eva, Locke supported her to the car.

Locke still held Zita to ease her pain, while Eva took the wheel, and,
although they could hear shouts and even shots behind them, Eva drove
slowly in order not to add to Zita's misery. It showed the sympathy of
their characters that, much as Locke and Eva felt that Zita had injured
them, nevertheless, pausing in a flight from deadly peril, they found it
in their hearts to be kind to an enemy.

Arriving at Brent Rock, they carried Zita to her room and the family
physician was sent for. He pronounced the injury slight and more of a
strain than a sprain.

While the doctor was at the house he also paid a visit to Brent, who,
while his mental condition had remained as apparently hopeless as ever,
had gained much in strength, owing to the diet and restful care. He was
now able to sit up, fully dressed. As it was a case of drug poisoning,
the doctor had thought it best not to allow the patient to relax too
completely. But, whatever the strange drug that had stolen away Brent's
reason, the effect showed no signs of departure, and they were as much
in the dark as to the antidote as ever.

A few moments after the doctor had left, when he made his morning call
the next day, the counsel of the corporation was announced. He was shown
into the library immediately and it was there that Locke and Eva went
into conference with him.

The attorney had brought with him many share-holders' proxies, and these
he handed over to Eva.

"These proxies," he was declaring, "give you absolute control, Miss
Brent. With them you can force Mr. Balcom completely out of
International Patents."

"What's that you say?"

It was Balcom himself who spoke. How the man had got past the butler,
who certainly had no love for him, was mystifying. Yet here he was,
ready and eager to defend his interests.

"I was just telling Miss Brent," informed the lawyer, coldly, "that with
these proxies which I have obtained and just handed to her, she was in
complete control of the company."

"And you, Mr. Balcom," interposed Locke, stepping forward, "will play no
further part in the activities of the company. Miss Brent desires your
resignation, to take effect immediately."

"Why--why--this is unheard of--absurd!" sputtered Balcom. "I'll--I'll--"
And his rage got the better of him.

"No, Mr. Balcom," again interrupted Locke, "you will do nothing. It is I
who will give you twenty-four hours to arrange your affairs with the
company before I order your removal--or arrest."

Balcom tried to remonstrate, to plead his innocence of any wrong-doing.
Finding no sympathy by taking this attitude, his manner changed abruptly
and he attempted to bluster.

A decisive movement toward the telephone on the part of Locke checked
this and, chameleon-like, Balcom's usual suave manner came to the fore.
He bowed himself out.

"It will, of course, be as you say." He smiled oilily.

Once in the hall, however, his manner changed again, and, darkly
scowling and biting his thin lips, he was about to quit the place, when
Zita, limping only slightly, intercepted him.

"Mr. Balcom," she pleaded, "come out the back way. I must see you alone
a moment."

They tiptoed out to the grounds, and, behind a hedge where they could
not be observed from the house, talked.

"Tell me what has happened," demanded Zita.

"Happened?" repeated Balcom. "Why, they've thrown me out of the
company--at least, they think they have."

His mind was working quickly, and after a pause he turned to Zita
sharply. "Can you get Brent out of the house and bring him to me here
behind this hedge at eight o'clock to-night?"

Zita nodded an eager acquiescence and left him, returning to the house.

That evening Locke, returning from a stroll around the grounds, noticed
a movement in some shrubbery at the side of the foot-path. He went
closer to investigate, and a rough-looking individual broke from cover
and ran away through the underbrush as fast as he could go. It was too
dark to follow and Locke hastened his steps to the house, fearing some
new deviltry on the part of the Automaton or his emissaries.

He had just entered the darkened hallway when, much to his surprise, he
saw the figure of a man, leaning heavily on the arm of a woman,
descending the stairs.

He stepped behind some portieres and waited until they reached the foot
of the stairway. Then he stepped out and confronted them.

Zita gave a startled cry, and would have fled had not Locke caught and
held her. As for poor Brent, he simply stood there, swaying from side to
side and smiling foolishly.

Eva heard the commotion and came running down the stairs. She was amazed
until Locke explained the situation to her. Then her indignation knew no
bounds. Putting her arms around her father, she turned to Zita.

"How dare you?" she demanded, scathingly. "For doing this you will leave
this house immediately and--never return."

Zita, for a moment, was on the verge of breaking down, but recovered
herself and, with an angry retort on her lips, went out, slamming the
door behind her.

Zita slipped around the house and to the hedge designated by Balcom as
their meeting-place.

She was surprised but relieved when she did not find him there, and
glanced at her wrist watch, which stood at a few minutes past eight. She
was about to turn around when she caught sight of a bit of paper. Taking
it, she read:

Bring him to my rooms.

That was all, and the message was unsigned.

Zita greatly feared Balcom's wrath at her failure, but, nevertheless,
she started for his apartment.

At that moment Balcom and the mysterious Doctor Q were talking in the
latter's dingy laboratory. Doctor Q's mind, for the time being, at
least, seemed perfectly clear, and he had formulated a daring plan.

"Send Locke word that you will give yourself up," he was saying, "but
tell him that he must come to your apartment to get you. I will do the
rest."

Balcom left hurriedly and was driven directly home, where he got Locke
on the telephone and repeated the instructions that Doctor Q had
suggested.

"Am I to understand that you intend to turn state's evidence?"
questioned Locke, doubtfully.

"Assuredly," hastened Balcom.

"Then I'll be right over."

As Balcom hung up the receiver he chuckled sardonically. He was just
turning to an antique brazier to arrange for Locke's reception when Zita
was announced and at once admitted.

"I've failed, Mr. Balcom," she apologized, "failed miserably. Locke took
Mr. Brent away from me--and they ordered me never to return to the
house."

"You little idiot!" Balcom almost hissed. "I'll not tolerate a failure,
either. Get out!"

Although Zita almost went on her knees in her pleading to him, Balcom
was adamant, and finally she left in utter despair.

Outside, she telephoned to Paul to see if she might induce him to use
his influence in reinstating her in his father's good graces.

As soon as Zita was gone Balcom busied himself with the ancient brazier
and was standing before a small image of Buddha. He took a small package
and from it poured a powder into the bowl of the brazier. Then, going to
the table, he wrote a short note, after which he went to a divan and
awaited Locke's coming.

Balcom had not long to wait. A ring came at the door and Balcom leaped
to his feet and lighted the powder in the brazier. Then he adjusted a
gas-mask that Doctor Q had given him, and, returning to the divan, lay
down, pulling a camel's-hair coverlet well over himself as he awaited
results.

There was a rap at the door and a peremptory demand for entrance--a
pause--and a whispered consultation outside.

"Open the door!" cried Locke, again.

As there was no answer, heavy blows were rained upon the door, and
finally it gave way.

Three men stumbled into the room. They stared about, then started to
search the place. One by one they started to cough. Locke, who was the
farthest away from the brazier, seemed to be the least affected.

Finally he spied the note on the table and snatched it up. By the dim
light he read:

You will never live to capture me. The deadly gas is
even now killing you.

Locke gasped. There was the sound of a heavy fall behind him. He turned
and saw that one of his men was down.

He took a step forward, when the other pitched on his face.

Locke tried to rescue them, but by this time the deadly fumes had
reached him and he, too, fell to the floor, coughing his life away.

At that moment Balcom got up from the divan and, stepping over Locke's
prostrate body, left the place, forgetting to close the door behind him.

When Zita telephoned Paul, Paul made an immediate appointment for her to
meet him at Doctor Q's, and when she arrived there Paul was already in
conference with the doctor.

Over the telephone Zita had already given Paul a brief account of what
had happened, and thus the two men were prepared with a plan when she
arrived.

"Get Eva to the hypnotist's on River Street," instructed Doctor Q. "Tell
her that I have been hypnotized and that under the spell I will tell
all."

It was a desperate thing for Zita to attempt, after treating the Brents
so shamelessly. But there was no alternative. For she knew well that,
with Balcom, only a success would offset her miserable failure earlier
in the evening. Besides, were not her fortunes tied up with Balcom--or
perhaps with Paul? She did not demur, but left immediately for Brent
Rock to make the attempt, revolving in her mind how she was to do it.

Zita had difficulty in persuading Eva to see her at all, but, once she
had succeeded, the possibility that all the mystery might be cleared up
appealed strongly to Eva. For Zita had framed her story cleverly and was
playing desperately.

"Then I'll meet you at the hypnotist's in about half an hour," agreed
Eva, after Zita had told her how friendless she herself was and how both
Balcom and Paul had refused her aid.

Zita left Brent Rock alone and was passing a dark corner when a hand
reached out and grasped her by the arm and she heard a voice that she
recognized.

"Your failure has made me redouble my efforts," it hissed. "I have just
killed Locke in my apartment and I--"

It was Balcom. But Zita waited to hear no more. Secretly she had always
loved Locke. Though she had worked against him, the very thought that he
might be dead shocked her. She tore herself from the grasp of Balcom
before she could hear more and ran like a deer toward the apartment.

Fortunately, it was not far. She tore up-stairs and through the door
that Balcom had left open.

Everything was as Balcom had left it, except that now the three men lay
quite still. Zita staggered over to a window and threw it open.

Next she got water and extinguished the still smoldering powder. Then,
falling on her knees, she tried to help the stricken men.

Not much time did she spend with the others, but to Locke with great
tenderness she gave most of her attention. Tenderly she bathed his brow
and frantically tried even to breathe her breath into his burning lungs.

Finally she was rewarded by seeing him open his eyes and gaze around. He
looked up at her.

"I'll atone for all the wrong I've done," she sobbed, "only--"

She would have asked him to love her, but she knew that it was useless
and the thought of Eva, caused the words to stick in her throat.

Locke did not understand, and the look on his face showed it.

"I didn't want to give you up," wailed Zita, now forgetting herself. "I
loved you. To prove it--I will help you now. The--the girl you love is
in terrible danger--you must hurry."

It was only too true. Eva had driven immediately to the hypnotist's, and
he had been instructed about her coming. At his door she had knocked,
and an old, evil-visaged man, in flowing robes which were marked in
cabalistic signs, had opened the door. In true fakir fashion he salaamed
almost to the floor while in flowery language he bade her enter.

Fearfully Eva stepped within. Signs of the zodiac, of cross-bones and
skulls, on walls and ceiling met her gaze everywhere. In an alcove Eva
could see a noosed rope hanging, for what purpose she knew not. But its
presence she felt was sinister.

"I--I was told that a Doctor Q would be here," Eva faltered. "I do not
see him."

"Gracious lady," bowed the hyponotist, "I will bring him at once. Pray
be seated."

Eva seated herself before a table upon which there stood a curious
stand, supporting many mirrors. She examined it closely, and as she did
so they all began to move. Each mirror moved on its own axis and she
watched with fatal curiosity. For now a bright light was cast from
behind her on the revolving mirrors and they formed a scintillating
kaleidoscope that was bewildering in its intricacy.

Eva quickly became fascinated. Then she was conscious of a drowsy
feeling stealing over her. She strove to rise, but her knees refused to
support her and she fell back in her chair.

The hypnotist now shut off the machine and, stepping before Eva, made
several passes with his hands.

Eva's eyes closed. The hypnotist turned and made a signal. Several
panels opened simultaneously and into the room there came a number of
emissaries, who crept upon the now completely hypnotized girl.

Nor was that all. A sound, as of the clanking of chains, was heard, and
through an aperture in the wall larger than the others there stalked the
Automaton.

At this very instant Locke and Zita burst into the room and rushed
toward Eva.

The hypnotist slipped around them both and in a moment had caught Zita
in his arms. She struggled to escape, beating him with her little fists
in a fury of rage and fear. But he held her, and an emissary, bringing
ropes, with his help bound her securely.

As for Locke, he made a frantic attempt to reach Eva, but his way was
blocked by a score of emissaries and the Automaton himself. Desperately
Locke dashed at the iron monster, only to be hurled to the floor as
though he were a tiny child.

In another moment the emissaries had bound him and carried him to the
alcove in which hung the noosed rope.

The hypnotist now pulled a lever and the method of the death intended
for Locke was revealed. Directly under the suspended rope was a
trap-door, which opened. Locke gazed down into blackness, nothingness.
An emissary threw some small, heavy object into the yawning hole. For a
long time nothing was heard. Then finally, far, far below there came to
their ears the sound of a distant splash.

The fiendish plan was simple--to hang him and then to cut the rope. His
body would go hurtling down to the subterranean river below and be
carried out to sea.

The hypnotist reversed the lever. The trap-door closed. Locke was
dragged beneath the rope and it was adjusted around his neck.

Even in this awful moment his sole thought was of Eva. Would they throw
her, unconscious, down the same yawning trap?

Powerless, he stood bound, fascinated, as he saw three emissaries seize
her. But instead of dragging her to the trap, they dragged her toward
one of the panels in the wall.

What nameless torture was in store for her?

He struggled furiously to get free to rush to her, but the noose only
tightened on his neck.

The hypnotist stepped to the lever that operated the trap under Locke's
feet and began to pull the lever down.



CHAPTER XXIII


With a crash the hypnotist dropped unconscious to the floor as the
hypnotic machine started to revolve rapidly. The emissaries turned from
Locke and were dazzled by the blinding flashes from the whirling
mirrors.

It was Zita who caused all the commotion. Unnoticed by the thugs, who
were intent on sending Locke to his death and dragging Eva through the
panel, Zita had managed to free herself from her bonds and, true to her
promise to Locke that she would help him, she had risked all for his
sake.

Once free from the ropes, she had seized a heavy bronze vase and, at
just the critical moment of danger, had hurled it at the hypnotist's
head, striking him a terrific blow that had felled him and left him
unconscious on the floor before he could spring the trap. She had then
set the mechanical hypnotic machine in motion, and, standing behind it,
was herself practically invisible. It all happened so quickly that it
seemed like a miracle.

Locke, his hope revived, swiftly grasped the one chance for life that
was left to him. By contracting his muscles he was able to slip out of
the ropes which bound his arms. But since the noosed rope around his
neck held him so that his toes barely touched the floor of the trap, he
could not, try as he might, manage to get the noose free.

Suddenly a plan flashed across his mind. Hanging from the ceiling a few
feet in front of him he could see an enormous chandelier. Throwing his
hands above his head, he grasped the rope, thus relieving the strain on
his neck. Then, snapping his body backward, his feet came in contact
with the wall. With tremendous force he kicked out, causing his body to
swing in an arc toward the chandelier.

It was not until he had wrapped his legs about the branches of the
chandelier that the emissaries noticed what he was doing, so fascinated
were they by the revolving mirrors. Even then they could scarcely resist
the auto-hypnotic powers of the contrivance. Finally, however, with a
shout they came to the attack.

Locke was now hanging head downward. With one hand he succeeded in
loosening the noose from about his neck, while with the other he struck
out, hitting an emissary a fearful swinging blow that sent the fellow
staggering backward, to fall against the lever controlling the
trap-door.

With a crash the trap was sprung, with the pit yawning beneath it.
Struggling, striking, grappling with his assailants, Locke managed to
hurl three of them to their deaths in the underground river below.

Horror-stricken at the fate of their companions, the other emissaries
stepped back, when, to add to their confusion, Zita, with remarkable
strength for so frail a girl, lifted the stand of mirrors and hurled it
among them.

Locke somersaulted to the floor and, seizing the broken stand, used it
as a weapon with deadly effect.

The emissaries turned and fled.

An instant later Locke started to the panel through which Eva had been
dragged, when he heard steps from the other side. It was the emissaries
who had seized Eva, coming back to see what all the rumpus was about.
Locke, forewarned, slipped close to the wall, and, as they passed
through the panel, one at a time, he was able to fell them to the floor.

Then he rushed through the panel just in time to see Eva, pursued by the
Automaton, running toward him.

The very strangeness of her terrible adventure had brought Eva out of
the hypnotic state into which she had been thrown and she clung to Locke
as though she were a child.

Locke took her in his arms and, swiftly evading the slow-moving monster,
dashed back to the hypnotic room, calling to Zita to run to the street.
Thus all three were able to make good their escape.

Eva had purposely left her motor turning over, and therefore it was
barely an instant after they were in the street before they were
streaking out of that quarter of the town.

Zita was now overwhelmed by her feelings, but it was Eva herself who
spoke first.

"Forgive me, Zita," begged Eva, in the rush of her emotions forgetting
all that Zita had done. "But for you, both of us would now be dead."

For some moments Zita could not reply in her silent sadness at seeing
the joy of Locke with this girl.

"I--I forgive you?" she murmured, at length. "It is for you to forgive
me." She paused a moment and choked back a sob; then added, bravely,
"I--I can even wish for your happiness, my dear; my hope is dead."

Only Locke understood, and as he watched Zita he resolved to do all he
could for her, realizing that some one else had made her a victim of her
love and jealousy.

All breathed a sigh of relief when at last they came again in sight of
the lights of Brent Rock.

There was just the trace of a shadow to cloud the momentary happiness at
their safe arrival, as, on the steps, Zita refused to enter.

"I--I must say good-by," she murmured, wistfully, turning to go out into
the night alone.

Nothing that either Locke or Eva could say seemed to swerve her purpose.

"Can't you see?" she exclaimed, finally, turning to Locke. "Balcom,
Paul, and Doctor Q all trust me now. I can help you solve the mystery
better if I leave the house."

This was so evident that Locke and Eva were forced to consent. They took
her back to the city, leaving her where she could be unobserved, then
returned in a very hopeful mood again to Brent Rock.

"I think she can and will help us," declared Eva, intuitively.

"Yes," agreed Locke, slowly, "and if Zita finds the record of her birth
I believe we shall solve the mystery."

Worn out with the terrors through which she had passed, Eva bade Locke
an affectionate good-night and went to her room, while he went to the
laboratory and tried again to find an antidote for the Madagascar
madness, a work that kept him up late and to which he returned again
early the following morning.

It was on that following day, in the River Road apartment of De Luxe
Dora, that Paul and she were having a demi-monde lovers' quarrel. Paul
was intoxicated, and Dora may have been angry about that. Or it may have
been that she was jealous of some other woman. However, they were
quarreling fiercely when there came a knock at the door.

"You open it," flashed Dora to Paul.

He demurred a moment, then, changing his mind, consented and crossed to
the door, while Dora ran to her own room and hid.

Paul was very much surprised to find that the visitor was Zita, much
excited.

"I want you to help me on something of great importance," she exclaimed,
almost before she had entered.

"Why, certainly! Anything you desire!" hiccoughed Paul. "Come on in."

Zita entered the apartment and they crossed over to the chaise-longue,
where Zita made her direct plea.

"Help me find the record of my birth," she begged.

Paul pulled his wandering wits together and thought a moment; then a
particularly crafty look came into his eyes as he detached a key from
his key-ring.

"Here, take this," he directed. "It's the key to my father's apartment.
The records you want are there. He and I have quarreled and you can go
as far as you like."

Zita took the key eagerly, thanked Paul profusely, and started for the
door.

She had barely passed the threshold before Dora, who had heard all, was
at the telephone in her own room and was angrily calling up Balcom at
his apartment.

Balcom, assisted by his Madagascan servant, was at the moment packing a
trunk, perhaps preparatory to a hasty flight, should that become
necessary. The moment the telephone rang he picked up the receiver and
nearly choked with anger as he heard Dora's whispered voice over the
wire.

"Paul has given Zita the key to your apartment," Dora hastened, "and she
is coming over to steal the record of her birth."

"She is--eh? Well, I'll take care of that," growled Balcom, as he rang
off.

Balcom went to a drawer in the table and from it took a large book.
Rapidly he turned over the pages until he found what he wanted. Then he
made an erasure and an entry and replaced the book in the drawer. Next
he called the servant.

"When she comes, you make her a prisoner," he directed. "Understand?"

The Madagascan nodded and raised one of Balcom's hands to his own
forehead as a sign of his fidelity.

Balcom went out and the servant stepped into the empty trunk to await
the arrival of Zita.

But it was a very different person with whom the Madagascan had to
contend in the end.

On leaving Dora's apartment, Zita telephoned Brent Rock, and Locke
answered immediately. Locke readily agreed to make the search of
Balcom's apartment in Zita's stead.

When the Madagascan heard a key in the door he stealthily peeped from
his hiding-place and saw, instead of Zita, Locke.

Locke's back was turned, and the Madagascan, undaunted, sprang from the
trunk and leaped, catlike, on Locke's back. But he had not reckoned on
his antagonist. Locke, always on guard, was not taken quite by surprise.
He caught the savage in a jiu-jitsu hold, throwing him over his head to
land in a far corner of the room.

In spite of the fall, the Madagascan bounded to his feet, like a rubber
ball, but a few stiff jabs from Locke soon took all the fight out of him
and he lay still, completely knocked out.

Locke made a hurried but systematic search of the room, and finally
found the book that he sought, taking it and returning to Eva at Brent
Rock.

After telephoning, Zita went directly to Doctor Q's laboratory, to which
she was admitted after he had seen her through his periscope
annunciator.

The doctor was fumbling with a test-tube, from which some heavy fumes
were issuing. He motioned her to a chair, near a table upon which were
many papers which looked to Zita as though they might be of importance.
Always quick to act, Zita raised her hand as if to arrange her hair, and
as she did so she purposely knocked the test-tube out of the doctor's
hand. The acid spattered on some of the papers, quickly setting them
afire.

Doctor Q, wildly excited, started to beat out the flames, and in so
doing allowed several unseared letters to flutter to the floor. One in
particular arrested Zita's attention. It was a drawing, a plan of some
sort, and was marked, "Plan of Den."

Zita placed her foot on it, and, while Doctor Q was engaged with the
small blaze, she reached down and, hastily folding it, thrust it into
one of the low shoes she was wearing. Then she went to Doctor Q's
assistance and in a jiffy the fire was out. The doctor was furiously
angry at her, and, feeling that she had accomplished all that she might
expect, she expressed her regrets for the accident and went out before
his anger became any worse.

Thus it was that Zita arrived at Brent Rock only a few moments after
Locke, whom she found in the library with Eva, turning over the pages of
the record he had secured at Balcom's.

The record purported to be a record of marriages of Wallace County, New
York, and Locke finally found an entry that read, "Peter Brent and Rita
Dane."

For a moment Zita was stunned. It was her mother's name.

Locke smiled. "Yes, Zita," he said, quietly, "for a moment Eva and I
were surprised, too. But it's a palpable forgery. Balcom has tried to
prove that you and Eva are half-sisters, but look."