The monster gazed intently at Locke as though to determine whether it were indeed he, then waved the emissaries on to the shaft of a huge freight elevator.

In the shaft, directly under the elevator platform, they now cast Locke's unconscious body.

"Are you sure the watchman's still up above?" asked one.

"Sure."

"Then give a ring for the basement."

A thug pressed the button that signaled. In a moment, creaking and groaning, the massive elevator started to descend.

A shuffling of feet was heard and down the stairs leading from Old Meg's quarters came the two thugs carrying Eva. A few feet behind them, still in boy's clothes, was Zita.

The jar to his body as the emissaries threw him on the concrete floor had tended to bring Locke back to consciousness. For a moment he lay still. Then the sound of the descending elevator attracted his attention. He gazed upward and dimly saw the slowly moving platform. In a flash he realized his danger.

Locke struggled fiercely to dislodge his bonds. He contorted his body, expanded his powerful chest in an effort to break the ropes that held him a prisoner.

At this moment the thugs that were carrying Eva passed by, followed by others. Apparently they took no notice of him, but continued on their way with the helpless girl.

Locke, his own danger forgotten, became frantic with apprehension for her and tore savagely at the restraining ropes.

Zita stopped. Her face was a study of conflicting emotions as she saw Locke struggling at the bottom of the shaft.

Floor by floor, inch by inch, the enormous elevator, that would crush out Locke's life as though he were an insect, continued to descend.

Zita stepped to an electric switch. That switch would stop the elevator immediately and save Locke's life.

She raised her hand--and then, looking after the retreating thugs and emissaries, she saw Eva again. Zita's lips formed a cruel line and a flinty hardness came into her eyes.

Her hand dropped.

There were only a few feet between Locke and the descending elevator.

Locke was struggling frenziedly to escape and rescue Eva.

Zita's hand went out again and grasped the handle of the switch.

She hesitated, hate on her face.

Would she, for love of Locke, who had not returned her love, save him?

Could she bring herself to save this man--for a woman she hated, who had won him from her?

If she saved him it would be only to lose him to the other woman.

With a great creaking the massive elevator was within only a few short inches of Locke.

CHAPTER XIX

Every fiber of Zita's body was galvanized into action as she threw the whole weight of her body against the elevator emergency-control switch.

There was a sputtering of blue flame as the connection was made, and Zita closed her eyes. With a shudder she heard the great elevator strike the cellar floor and then rebound.

She dared not open her eyes. The last thing that she had seen was Locke struggling frantically to escape from under the elevator that was only a few inches above him and seemed destined to crush out his life.

Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes. Locke's body lay motionless at her feet, separated almost literally by only the breadth of a hair from the shaft.

The relief, the reaction from her terrible emotions, made Zita half hysterical. Trembling in every limb, she made her way to Locke and fell on her knees by him. She wrapped her arms about him and held his head up.

It was thus that she was holding him when his eyes slowly opened and gazed questioningly into her own, his brow knitted in perplexity.

Then, with a rush, it all came back to him--the descending elevator, Zita standing at the switch, while his life hung in the balance, his last frantic effort to escape just before the descending elevator had grazed his head, rendering him unconscious. That Zita, at the last moment, had attempted to save his life he did not know, nor why she now gazed at him frankly with eyes of love.

It was all inexplicable to him.

Another instant and he had wrenched himself loose from Zita's arms and was struggling with the ropes that still bound him even after he had managed to roll out from under the elevator in the last nick of time.

He had suddenly realized that the sight of Eva being carried off by the emissaries had not been a hideous dream, but a terrible actuality, and that at this very moment she was probably in the most imminent danger.

Zita realized that he wanted freedom to rush to Eva's assistance. Had she dared, she would have refused to release him from her arms, would at least have hindered his untying his bonds. But there was a masterful something about his silent demand to be released that would admit of no refusal.

In a few seconds Locke completed the freeing of himself and was dashing madly toward the door through which the gang, carrying Eva, had passed.

The door was unlocked, and, hesitating not an instant, Quentin dashed through and into a large room.

Eva, the gunny sack removed and still unconscious, lay on the floor. The emissaries were grouped around her. In the background, dimly visible, stood the iron monster.

Startled, they looked up as Locke rushed into the room. But before they could do more, Locke had whipped out his automatic and, point-blank, was blazing away at the murderous crew. Two emissaries fell dead or mortally wounded. The others scattered.

Only the Automaton, man of iron that he was, showed no sign of fear.

Instead, he advanced ponderously upon Locke.

The automatic barked again, but did not succeed in deterring the monster. Locke realized the futility of using this puny weapon against such a foe.

He dashed toward Eva. It was the work of only an instant to snatch her up, practically from under the monster's feet, to turn, and to carry her through the door by which he had been brought in. Holding her in one arm, he slammed the door shut and shot the bolt.

He was just in time, for the next instant the door bulged out beneath the dead weight of the Automaton as it hurled its massive form against the other side.

Zita vas still waiting at the elevator shaft when Locke, carrying Eva in his arms, entered. At the sight Zita's whole body expressed her unquenched hatred of the unconscious girl. Her eyes narrowed, her lips became livid, and her hands clenched as though she would like to strike the helpless Eva.

"Zita," demanded Locke, suspiciously, "why did you hesitate to save my life?"

"Because," she replied--and her voice indicated the force of her answer whether it were really the truth or not--"I love you, and would not save you--for _her_."

Zita turned and ran up the stairs leading to Old Meg's as Locke turned to try to revive Eva.