within only a few short
inches of Locke.

CHAPTER XIX

Every fiber of Zita's body was galvanized into action as she threw the
whole weight of her body against the elevator emergency-control switch.

There was a sputtering of blue flame as the connection was made, and
Zita closed her eyes. With a shudder she heard the great elevator strike
the cellar floor and then rebound.

She dared not open her eyes. The last thing that she had seen was Locke
struggling frantically to escape from under the elevator that was only a
few inches above him and seemed destined to crush out his life.

Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes. Locke's body lay motionless at
her feet, separated almost literally by only the breadth of a hair from
the shaft.

The relief, the reaction from her terrible emotions, made Zita half
hysterical. Trembling in every limb, she made her way to Locke and fell
on her knees by him. She wrapped her arms about him and held his head
up.

It was thus that she was holding him when his eyes slowly opened and
gazed questioningly into her own, his brow knitted in perplexity.

Then, with a rush, it all came back to him--the descending elevator,
Zita standing at the switch, while his life hung in the balance, his
last frantic effort to escape just before the descending elevator had
grazed his head, rendering him unconscious. That Zita, at the last
moment, had attempted to save his life he did not know, nor why she now
gazed at him frankly with eyes of love.

It was all inexplicable to him.

Another instant and he had wrenched himself loose from Zita's arms and
was struggling with the ropes that still bound him even after he had
managed to roll out from under the elevator in the last nick of time.

He had suddenly realized that the sight of Eva being carried off by the
emissaries had not been a hideous dream, but a terrible actuality, and
that at this very moment she was probably in the most imminent danger.

Zita realized that he wanted freedom to rush to Eva's assistance. Had
she dared, she would have refused to release him from her arms, would at
least have hindered his untying his bonds. But there was a masterful
something about his silent demand to be released that would admit of no
refusal.

In a few seconds Locke completed the freeing of himself and was dashing
madly toward the door through which the gang, carrying Eva, had passed.

The door was unlocked, and, hesitating not an instant, Quenti