He was still wondering what it could all mean when the emissaries leaped upon him.  Although weakened by his previous battle, Locke proved no easy customer for them.  Time after time he struggled free from them and with arms working like piston-rods for a while he kept them at a distance.  But, like a pack of wolves, they were not to be denied, and they finally succeeded in holding him firmly.

One of them brought leg-irons which he snapped around Locke’s ankles.  Once again Locke managed to get one of his arms free and, before they could prevent him, two emissaries lay prostrate on the wharf.  But that effort marked his last, for the Automaton, stalking up behind him, pinioned his arms as though he was a baby.

An emissary now placed a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and, to bind him more securely, fastened a chain that extended from the handcuffs to the leg-irons.

Two of the thugs now carried him to the edge of the wharf, while a third attached a heavy weight to Locke’s feet.  Locke realized his helplessness, realized that his death was imminent.  But he determined to rid the world of at least one murderer.  By a mighty effort he shook off his captors and, as one rushed forward, he grabbed him in his manacled hands and leaped with him into the river as they grappled.

At the shore end of the wharf an emissary was leading Eva, as she thought, to Flint.

Locke and the thug sank immediately to the bottom of the river and, under water, there ensued a terrific battle.  Locke, semi-helpless because of his shakles, had the greatest difficulty in preventing the thug from breaking loose.  But he was determined that the fellow at least would pay for his crimes with his life.

The thug’s struggles gradually became more feeble.  Air bubbles rose from his bestial lips and he became limp in Locke’s grasp.  Locke released him and, feet first, he floated upward, dead.

Locke’s lungs were almost bursting now as he struggled at his chains; his senses reeled; he thought of Eva, and redoubled his efforts.  If he could only get rid of that great weight that was holding him down.  A singing came in his ears.

CHAPTER X

As Eva hurried down the dock, looking for the renegade, Flint she found herself cornered between the emissary and the terrible Automaton himself.  With a scream of terror she ran until she came to a door that divided the dock into fireproof sections.  Through it she darted, the Automaton following relentlessly.

Meanwhile Locke, his lungs almost bursting and the blood surging to his head, had managed to free himself from his shackles and had floated to the surface of the water.  As he came up he swam to the piles of the dock just as several boatmen saw him and hurried to his aid.

They heard the screams of Eva, and all started running up the dock, but not in time to capture the Automaton, who, warned by the emissaries, crashed through the side of the dock house nearest the shore and escaped.