n opportunity.

As he questioned her, Zita told him briefly her story, or, rather, such
portions of it as she thought it desirable for him to know. Paul, in
turn, assured her of his undying friendship and something more. His
earnestness almost made it seem true, and he talked in his most
fascinating and attractive manner. He finally ended his conversation
with a direct proposal of marriage. But he had overstepped the mark and
Zita was not to be fooled.

"Paul"--she laughed scornfully now--"you should be on the stage. It
needed only this proposal to prove to me that I am really Peter Brent's
daughter."

"Peter Brent's daughter!" he exclaimed. "No, not his daughter--the
daughter of Doctor Q."

"Impossible!" recoiled Zita, astounded at the assertion.

"True, Zita," he asserted, "absolutely true. Here, look at this paper."

With hands that trembled, Zita took the paper and read an amazing table.
Unless the paper lied, she was indeed the daughter of Doctor Q.

There was only one thing to do and that was to confront Doctor Q at once
and force him to a full explanation.

In order not to antagonize Paul, Zita was now particularly nice to him.
Her object was to get him to consent to her escape, so that she could
inform Locke and Eva of her discovery and all three confront Doctor Q
and wrest from him the story.

At first Paul would not let her go unless she consented to marry him,
but Zita played him skilfully, so that finally he unlocked the door.

Then Zita flew down the stairs and to a telephone around the corner,
where she called up Locke, to whom she told as much as she dared over
the wire.

Locke told her that he and Eva would meet her within an hour in the
lobby of one of the city's largest hotels, and Zita hastened there,
where she waited impatiently until they arrived.

Doctor Q admitted them immediately, and they noticed with astonishment
the wonderful change for the better that had taken place in the man. For
with the restoration of his mind all the evil lines of his face had been
obliterated, as it were, and in the place of the doddering half-imbecile
they found a genial, kindly, and distinguished gentleman who, with the
utmost hospitality, brought chairs and begged them to be seated.

Zita, in her anxiety to know the truth, could hardly contain her
impatience. Tossed from pillar to post, dominated once by the strong,
evil mind of Balcom, Zita had run the gamut of human emotions before she
had barely p