at girl, Eva Brent, finds out about him, will she throw
him over?"

Locke played the game diplomatically, and apparently succeeded in
further incensing Dora against her lover, for, suddenly she jumped up.

"Meet me here in an hour. I'll have everything arranged to spoil Paul
Balcom's game," she whispered, as she swept out of the cafe with
demi-mondaine majesty.

Locke was elated at the thought of having won so powerful an enemy to
his side. But, had he heard Dora's remark to Paul as she met him around
a convenient corner, his elation would have given way to caution.

Paul eagerly questioned her with a glance as she approached.

"Well, he fell for it," she announced, toughly, then added, "just as you
fell for his dictagraph game with the girl."

There was just a bit of jealousy yet in the tone of Dora. She was not
yet convinced of her complete triumph over Eva.

At the same time Locke left the cafe and entered a telephone-booth, from
which he called up Eva.

"Come to the Black Tom immediately," he said. "Dora is now on our side
and we'll learn the truth, she promises."

Eva at once started to get ready so that she would arrive at the time
Locke had fixed, while he loitered in the neighborhood, waiting until
the hour agreed upon with Dora was almost gone.

Dora was already waiting for him outside the place when he returned to
the Black Tom.

"How is everything?" inquired Locke.

"All arranged. You'll get Paul right."

Just then a man slouched past.

"Follow that fellow," whispered Dora.

Locke nodded and did so.

The man proceeded into the cafe and Locke followed. But instead of
sitting down in the main room the man passed through into an inner room.
Locke followed. He looked about. It seemed to be a sort of storeroom, as
nearly as he could make out.

His guide pressed a secret panel and, stepping through an aperture,
beckoned Locke to follow. Locke drew his automatic and went ahead in the
inky blackness that lay beyond the panel. The next moment the very floor
under his feet seemed to give way. He felt himself thrown down bodily
into a sort of subcellar.

Locke was immediately pounced upon by lurking emissaries who seized him
after a terrific battle and held him firmly.

"Where's a rope?" growled one.

There was no answer as the men struggled. The question was repeated.
Apparently one of them looked about.

"Use the wire," he growled.

The questioner gave a grunt of brutal satisfaction. There