in this
storeroom lay a huge roll of barbed wire. Coil after coil of this barbed
wire was wound about Locke as he struggled, but ever more feebly, for
with each coil now the barbs began to cut cruelly into his flesh.

Some one lighted a candle and by its light he saw many carboys of acid
standing in a row.

Directly behind them, so that there could be no doubt of the horrible
fate in store for him, stood the Automaton.

Already at the entrance to the Black Tom Cafe Eva's speedy runabout came
to a stop. Dora was at the curb to meet her and was all winning smiles.

Instinctively Eva shrank from this overdressed woman. But it had been
Locke's desire that she come to this place, and she decided to follow
the woman, for would it not lead to the unmasking of Paul, whom she
hated?

Once or twice on the descent into the cafe Eva hesitated, but was gently
urged on by Dora.

Eva was utterly disgusted by the flotsam and jetsam in human guise that
she found sprawling at the tables, but she decided to brave the place.

"Wait a moment and I'll get Mr. Locke," smiled Dora.

For a moment, the better to blot out the distasteful scene, Eva closed
her eyes.

When she opened them again it was to look into the ferocious, bestial
face of the giant emissary who, with fingers clutched like the talons of
some foul bird, was reaching toward her to grasp her by the throat.

In the noisome cellar Locke lay as though fascinated by the dread form
that confronted him, as well as by its more dreadful purpose.

The Automaton drew back its massive foot and deliberately kicked over
one after another of the carboys.

A pungent odor at once permeated the cellar air as the acid ate into the
floor.

Its purpose accomplished, the Automaton stalked toward Locke, and stood
towering above him.

Would it crush out Locke's life under its ponderous heel? Or would it
leave him to a death more horrible?

Like writhing serpents, the rivulets of seething, burning acid crept
closer, closer.

CHAPTER XVII

The Automaton and its emissaries left the cellar. In the distance a door
slammed and Locke was left to his terrible fate.

Except for the gurgling of the flowing acid and the scampering of the
rats all was silent.

Locke tried to move. But the sharp barbs of the wire cut into his flesh,
a torture to test the fortitude of a stoic.

Moreover, Locke had barely recovered from the shock of his fall into the
cellar. Thus for a few seconds th