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 portieres 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.