aked at every pantomime
motion of the figure, ready to do the bidding of the least motion of
their inhuman master.

Still holding the candlestick with its five huge yellow candles before
him, the Automaton stalked forward to the table and impressively
deposited the candlestick on it, then stepped back a pace and waved his
ponderous hand at the assembled emissaries, who scarcely repressed their
own abject terror.

CHAPTER IV

At a motion from the Automaton a dark-skinned Madagascan stepped forward
and lighted the five candles. At once a dense smoke began drifting from
the candles.

The men looked at one another, showing an uncomfortable fear of what the
negro and the Automaton were doing. Even the negro edged away fearfully
and all crouched back, afraid of the fumes.

A moment later the Automaton, with a mighty blast of air, snuffed all
the candles at once, then, without a word, picked up the candlestick and
stalked off through the passage on the opposite side of the den from the
entrance, the passage that led to the Graveyard of Genius.

A few moments later the secret rock door from this passage into the
Graveyard swung open and the Automaton stalked in, going carefully,
noiselessly, now. Across the floor he walked to the steel door, which he
swung open, then on out into the cellar of Brent Rock and up the steps
to the door under the stairs that led to the hallway of the great house.

In the hall the Automaton halted beside a small stand on which stood a
candlestick exactly like the one he carried. Quickly he picked up the
original candlestick and replaced it by the one he carried. Then he set
the original back of the portieres, and with a glance at the library
door turned back to the cellar, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

Down the steps he went, toward the open door of the Graveyard of Genius.
Beside the door was the fuse-box of the lighting system of the house.

The Automaton reached out and began rubbing sharply at the insulation of
the feed wires.

Up-stairs, in the dining-room, Brent had by this time flung off his coat
and was examining with Flint the curious model the adventurer had
brought from Madagascar. Brent was very excited and questioned Flint
eagerly.

"I tell you, Flint," cried Brent, at length, huskily, as he seized a pen
and dipped in into the ink, "the time has come for me to do what I have
long intended. I am going to do now what I should have done years ago."

Brent st