With a mighty effort he strained every muscle of his gigantic chest and the very straps that held him groaned from the force of his muscular exertion.  Even now the death-man was at the switch and it was barely a question of seconds or heart-beats between him and death.

With a quick twist of his giant shoulder he threw his whole weight against the chest strap and it parted.  Lurching forward, he freed his head and neck from the cruel straps, which snapped and parted.

The death-man paused for a fraction of a second to see what caused the commotion in the chair.  To that pause Locke owed his life.  With a final supreme effort he threw himself on the floor just as the knife-switch swung into position and the wicked blue flame of death leaped across the head electrodes.

Once freed, he catapulted himself across the room and with a vicious upper-cut sent the emissary sprawling unconscious to the floor.  Without a thought of himself he rushed into the next room where Eva now stood in panic, glued to the spot, in fear of the Frankenstein monster that would crush her in its grasp.

With murderous mien the thing crossed the room slowly, until only the table stood between her and destruction.

Like a wild animal Locke hurled himself into the room and with a master stroke of quick wit flung the heavy oaken table over at the monster.  Then he seized Eva, and before the monster could turn in its tracks, half dragged, half carried her from the room.

In the hall further difficulty confronted Locke, for the place was well guarded.  Several henchmen darted forth from dark corners of the murky place and would have intercepted him.

As the first approached, Locke, with a quick jiu-jitsu thrust, hurled him for a fall that would have broken the back of a less hardy man.  The next one was just turning the top of the stairs, and Locke, quick to take advantage of the situation, adopted the only means of escape.

He seized the man bodily about the waist and, lifting him over his head, threw him upon his other oncoming foe.  The result was that the two were flung down the stairs.

“Run!” he cried to Eva in a voice that was a command.

Without waiting he picked her up and carried her over the sprawling mass of legs and arms to safety below.

Once outside, he felt a little embarrassed at having the beautiful girl in his arms and he half murmured an apology as he placed her feet gently on the ground.

Life at Brent Rock was far from monotonous.

Like a great game of checkers, the various members of the establishment were being moved about, guided by some strange hand, it seemed.

Now one, then another seemed to gain the advantage, and as each strove for control of the vast fortune, the battle of wits surged back and forth.

Balcom was playing a game, it was plain.  But to what extent?  Sometimes it seemed as though Zita was his aide and would stop at nothing to succeed.  Again it was that Zita played the game alone, still fostering her secret but hopeless love for Locke.  Again it seemed as if Paul were playing the game, either alone or with some one else.