CHAPTER III

Brent had no intention of keeping the promise which Balcom had extracted from him by a species of moral duress that afternoon.

In fact, already he had gone too far in his plans for restitution—­or was it self-preservation?—­to turn back.  It was late in the night that he himself secretly admitted to the house a tall, dark-haired stranger who evidently called by appointment.

“Well, Flint,” he greeted, in a hushed tone, “what was it you asked to see me about?”

Flint replied not a word, but impressively tapped a bundle which he carried under his arm and began to undo the cord which bound it.

Brent looked startled, then caught himself.  He had known Flint for some time—­an adventurer, more or less unscrupulous, who had been the foreign representative of International Patents.

Flint took off his coat and threw it on a chair with an air of assurance that seemed to increase Brent’s anxiety, then began again to untie the bulky package.

“Just a moment, Flint,” cautioned Brent, stopping him.

With an air of uneasy secrecy Brent hurried to the door that led from the dining-room to the conservatory and bolted it securely.  Then he made sure that the door to the library was bolted.

As he did so he did not see his secretary, Zita, watching in the hall, for the footsteps of Locke, approaching, had caught her quick ear and she had fled.

“Locke!” called Brent, hearing his laboratory, manager.  “Under no circumstances allow me to be disturbed to-night.”

“Very well, sir,” responded Locke.

Just then the light step of Eva was heard on the stairs.

“What’s the matter, father?” she asked, still upset by the events of the afternoon.  “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, my dear, nothing,” hastily replied Brent.  “In the morning I shall have something to say to you.  Now run along like a good girl.”

Dutifully Eva turned.  Brent watched her out of sight.  Then with a keen look at Locke he pulled out a paper from his pocket and handed it to the young scientist, who read: 

  Brent,—­This is my last warning.  If you persist in your course you
  will be struck down by the Madagascar madness. 
          
                                                     Q.

Locke looked up from the scrawl in alarmed perplexity.

“What does this mean?” he queried.

Brent merely shook his head cryptically.

“Study this message.  I shall have something very important to tell you in the morning.”

As Brent turned back into the library he paused a moment and looked after Locke, hesitating, as if he would call him back.  Then he decided not to do so, turned, and carefully locked the door from the dining-room into the hallway.

Eva was waiting at the head of the stairs as Locke, perplexed by the strange actions of his employer, came up.