t day to be showing interest and
to be thoroughly enjoying the brutal sight.

With a shout Locke charged. His right swing landed just behind the
emissary's ear and the man dropped, pulling Eva down with him. But Locke
had her up and behind him in a second.

Three other emissaries appeared as though by magic and attacked him on
all sides.

Locke's automatic had been lost when he fell into the cellar.
Consequently he grabbed up one of the cafe chairs, which he wielded like
a club.

One emissary had worked around until he was at one side of Locke and
almost behind him, a blackjack raised in his hand. But Eva warned Locke
in time. Whirling about, he made a full swing with the chair and caught
the emissary full in the face with it. The man went down and stayed
down.

"Run quick as you can," panted Locke to Eva. "Get the car started."

She was reluctant to leave him, and Locke saw that delay was dangerous.
He hurled what remained of the chair into the faces of the last two
emissaries, then turned and rushed up the steps, carrying Eva along with
him.

A whir of the starter, the throbbing of the engine as the gas in the
cylinders ignited, and they were streaking toward Brent Rock, safe.

In a still fashionable, but older, part of the town, the elder Balcom
had his quarters. They were spacious and furnished in Oriental style,
with many a suggestion of the Indian Ocean.

Balcom was evidently annoyed, and seriously so. He was striding up and
down the apartment, scowling and puffing furiously at a black cigar. In
his hand was a letter, and from time to time he halted and glanced at
it, then fell back to his quick walking again, while a sinister light
came into his eyes. Yet the contents of the note were hardly such as
would have seemed likely to cause a man of honest purpose any agitation.

MR. HERBERT BALCOM,

International Patents, Inc.

DEAR SIR,--A special meeting of the executive board of
International Patents, Inc., will be called at Brent Rock
this afternoon to determine the future policies of this company.

[Signed] EVA BRENT.

Balcom had read the notice for the tenth time when a negro servant
entered and announced that his son Paul wished to see him.

"Show him in--then," growled Balcom to the servant.

Paul entered. He was evidently somewhat chagrined and crestfallen. Nor
did his father's next words tend to cheer him up.

"I suppose you'll acknowledge that you've made a miserable mess of