“The girl—­I really love?” repeated Locke; then there ran through his mind what had happened, as though it had been ages ago.

He protested and tried to explain.  But protestations and explanations only made matters worse, as usual.  Had she not with her own eyes seen Locke in Zita’s arms?

“Eva,” he persisted, manlike, “I swear that she was only trying to save my life.  I cannot help it if she—­”

Locke saw that his defense was only making an innocent matter worse, and checked himself.  His mind recalled that some one had once said that a jealous woman believes a man guilty until he proves himself innocent; when he has proved himself innocent she merely still suspects.  Eva’s manner was very constrained.

At that moment a policeman, followed by Zita, entered, and Zita, running up to Locke, cried, anxiously, “You’re not hurt—­are you?”

Locke answered in an annoyed negative.

The policeman now questioned them very closely and examined the dead inventor’s body.  Then he entered their names and addresses in his note-book.

Next the officer lead the entire group down to the garden.  There the horribly injured emissary was trying miserably to crawl away.

The Automaton had totally disappeared.

Eva immediately ordered that the injured man be taken to Brent Rock in her car.  Then she turned sharply to Zita.

“How did you come to be here?” she demanded.

Zita was startled and confused.  It lasted only a minute.  Then, her mind made up, she replied, defiantly: 

“I came here to discover the secret of my birth.  I have been told that I am Mr. Brent’s daughter.”

Eva was stricken dumb with astonishment at this startling claim, but Locke laughed outright.

“What nonsense!” he scoffed.  “Eva, don’t listen to it.”

Zita glared at him and with a haughty nod to Eva swept out of the garden.

Eva was still frightfully indignant with Locke and insisted on going home alone.  However, they arrived at Brent Rock at about the same time.

The emissary had been placed on a lounge in the library and a doctor was called.  The case was quite hopeless and they merely hoped to obtain a confession before he passed away.

When Eva arrived she went directly to her father’s room, but, as he was receiving every attention from a trained nurse and she could do nothing further to aid him, she returned to the library.

Locke, too, after changing his clothes, still wet from the water-tank on the top of the apartment, also went to the library.

At his entrance the doctor glanced at him in a manner to indicate that there was no hope of saving the man’s life.  Locke went over to examine him.  He was struck by the sly rascality of the professional criminal, but he thought little of it at the time.  He tried to question the emissary, but, except for a labored breathing, could extract no response.