It was some minutes before Eva was restored and all headed again to the shore, eager to help Locke.

As he assisted Eva to land, and they waited for a carriage, Locke hastily offered a boatman a liberal reward for the discovery of the precious diving-suit, for it had been his intention to present the patent to the government.

Meanwhile some strange things had happened.  Paul and his father had quarreled over money, over De Luxe Dora, over Paul’s manner of life and his ill luck in winning Eva’s affections.

At the same time Dora had become more insistent in her demands for money to meet her extravagances, and Paul conceived an idea of selling one of the patents to a rival company.  Strange to say, it had been the self-liberating diving-suit and the rival company was the Under Seas Company.

All this took place some time after the disappearance of the Automaton and his precious crew.

Some hours later that evening a telephone message came for Locke from the boatman that the diving-suit had been recovered and was being held by him.

Locke replied that he would be down in an hour.  But during that hour other strange things occurred.  For no sooner had the boatman hung up his receiver than a pleasant voice hailed him and he left his house to investigate.  It was Paul Balcom.

It was in a clever, insinuating, affable manner that Paul approached the real object of his visit.  His appeal was cleverly worded, cleverly presented.  The sole object was to awaken the poor boatman’s cupidity.

The sum mentioned, no less a sum than five thousand dollars, would mean luxury to the poor man.  And all for what?  Simply to call up a stranger, a Mr. Locke, to tell him that the boatman demanded more money since he had telephoned before, that the cash was to be placed by him in an old packing-case from which a stationary engine had been removed that morning.  It was just an exchange.  That was all.

“Sure I’ll do that,” the boatman told Paul, and Paul, smiling craftily, gave him his hand to seal the bargain.

The boatman went back to his quarters and again called Brent Rock, making his new demands.  Locke was tremendously indignant, but he wanted the suit quickly to prevent its falling into unscrupulous hands.  He agreed and immediately started for the dock.

The boatman turned from his telephone and, picking up the suit, regarded it curiously.  “Five thousand dollars,” he muttered.  “Five thousand dollars.”  And he shook his head wonderingly.

He was standing near an open window and was commencing to fold the suit preparatory to taking it to the end of the dock where lay the engine-case, when, without the slightest warning, three emissaries of the Automaton, who had appeared just a moment before on the dock, leaped through the window and felled him to the floor.  He struggled feebly, but it was no use, and a final blow left him unconscious.