erior. It was
little different from others in the same street. Then he walked
thoughtfully back to Eva and they argued pro and con about the
advisability of attempting to enter.

Locke insisted on entering alone, but Eva would not hear of it.
Therefore, it was decided that they would go in together.

When Balcom had alighted from his car half an hour before he had merely
stood for a moment in front of the door of the house when, mysteriously,
the door had opened.

There was no one in sight. But he was so familiar with the house that it
might have been his own. He descended a flight of stairs and stood
before another door, where the same door-opening process was repeated.

Balcom entered a darkened room and for a moment seemed quite alone. Then
from out the shadows, with a little half run, half lope, a strange
figure of man came toward him.

He was in reality large of frame, but stooped and bent with age. An old
frock-coat was wrapped about him. But the most remarkable things about
the man were a pair of weirdly fascinating eyes with a mad glint in them
and an enormous full beard, snow white, that fell almost to his waist.

At times the man talked rationally, in fact with the forcefulness of a
great savant. Then, abruptly, he would leave off and the rest of his
conversation was that of a babbling child. He was seldom at rest,
scampering here and there, not unlike a bird-dog on a fresh scent.
Seeking--always seeking--what?

Balcom grasped his arm in order to arrest his attention.

"Doctor Q," he addressed him, "you can have the revenge you have sought
so long. Have you prepared everything?"

The old man chuckled and wagged his head in senile fashion. Balcom
grabbed both his shoulders so that the old man was facing him, and shook
him slightly.

"Your enemies are here," he emphasized. "Have you prepared for their
reception?"

And then the haze beclouding the old man's brain seemed to pass away and
his next moments were lucid.

"Ah, it's you, Balcom. You were just saying--"

Balcom explained that Locke and Eva had tracked him and on his departure
would undoubtedly enter to investigate the place. Doctor Q, for such was
his odd name, understood now, and an evil grimace distorted his wrinkled
face.

"Let them come," he growled. "I am prepared. Why, I have even improved
certain features of the Chair of Death."

He led Balcom into an inner room where many electric bulbs were dimly
glowing. At their entrance tw