ke the real one. Look."

Flint put a pencil in the little steel hand of the model and pressed a
lever as he held a piece of paper under the pencil. Brent leaned over,
fascinated.

Instantly the tiny hand began to trace on the paper one letter--the
simple letter "Q."

As the hand finished the tail of the "Q" Brent gripped the table for
support. His eyes bulged and stared wildly.

"My God!" burst from his lips. "It is the warning--Q!"

For minutes Brent strove to regain his composure.

Nor was Flint less impressed than the man before him.

What would have been the emotions of both if they had been able to
penetrate with the eye through the rocky cliffs on which the stately
mansion of Brent Rock stood would have been hard to say.

For, down in a rock-hewn cavern, not many hundred yards away and below
them, reached by a secret entrance from the shrubbery of the cliffs near
the shore, already had congregated several rough characters. They were
playing cards and drinking, now and then glancing furtively at the
passage entrance, as though they were expecting the arrival of some one
or something.

Suddenly came a dull metallic clank through the passage, strangely
echoing. At once all leaped to their feet, at attention, not unmixed
with awe and fear that sat strangely on their desperate features. What
was it that they, who feared neither God nor man, feared?

They strained their eyes, looking into the passage that led darkly away
into blackness.

Dimly down it now could be seen two gleaming spots of light, points in
the Cimmerian darkness. They seemed to be growing larger and coming
nearer as with each hollow reverberation the dull metallic thuds
increased.

Faintly now could be made out in the blackness a huge, stalking figure,
having the shape of a man, with gigantic, powerful shoulders, powerful
arms, a thick body, hips, and thighs that spelled terrific strength,
legs and feet that suggested irresistible force.

"The Automaton!" escaped involuntarily from all lips.

Slowly, irresistibly, the horrendous figure stalked forth into the dim
light. There it paused for a moment--a figure of steel, larger than most
men, yet not so large but that it might have incased a man. And yet its
motions, its every action, were like nothing mortal. Even these hardened
denizens of the underworld shuddered.

In its hand the Automaton carried a five-branched candlestick, for what
purpose none seemed to know. Yet all bowed and qu