a lounge in the library and a doctor was
called. The case was quite hopeless and they merely hoped to obtain a
confession before he passed away.

When Eva arrived she went directly to her father's room, but, as he was
receiving every attention from a trained nurse and she could do nothing
further to aid him, she returned to the library.

Locke, too, after changing his clothes, still wet from the water-tank on
the top of the apartment, also went to the library.

At his entrance the doctor glanced at him in a manner to indicate that
there was no hope of saving the man's life. Locke went over to examine
him. He was struck by the sly rascality of the professional criminal,
but he thought little of it at the time. He tried to question the
emissary, but, except for a labored breathing, could extract no
response.

There were voices in the hallway. For a moment the dying man showed some
signs of returning consciousness. A crafty look came over his face. What
was he contemplating?

The door opened and Balcom and his son Paul entered. Balcom walked
jauntily, but with a suavity of manner that was always his. Paul looked
at his best, except for the fact that he carried his left arm in a
silken sling.

Balcom greeted them all, and at his voice the dying man actually showed
a sort of agitation. A strong shudder seemed to pass through his body,
then, like a spring suddenly uncoiled, he sat up.

He was fully conscious now and strove to rise to his feet. It was a
tremendous effort, but he succeeded, and stood confronting Balcom, while
the ominous light of hatred that gleamed from his eyes as they
encountered those of Balcom made even that well-poised man recoil and
shudder.

With the muscles of his face working convulsively the dying thug tried
to speak. All those standing in the library realized that it was to
accuse, to denouce.

However, the effort proved too great, and with a groan that was ghastly
the man fell backward on the couch, dead.

Murdering brute that he had been, still to Eva and Locke he now
represented nothing but a stricken human being, with a human soul,
blackened and warped. But Balcom and Paul seemed to show unmistakable
signs of joy and relief. It was so evident, Locke thought, that he
turned to them.

"Your coming seemed to have an unfortunate effect," he hinted. "The man
seemed to know one of you--at least."

"Nothing of the kind," retorted Balcom, nettled.

Locke turned to Paul and regarded his