“All in good time, my pretty, all in good time,” mumbled the hag.  “You’re to wait for him here.”

But Eva insisted on seeing Locke at once and the old hag lied volubly.  He had been here, and had stepped out for a moment.  No, she did not know where—­to get a cigar, maybe.  Would the pretty lady hear her fortune told while she waited?

As there was apparently nothing that she could do until Locke returned, Eva sat at the card-table while Old Meg droned her old fortune-telling rigamarole.

In spite of her growing fear and agitation Eva became interested.  There was something calming in the monotonous voice of the old crone.

“When the queen of spades comes between the jack of hearts and the king of diamonds and the—­a—­the—­”

A door directly behind Eva silently and slowly opened.  Stealthily a boy’s head was thrust out.  On the young face was a world of deadly hatred.  As the sputtering candle burned brighter for a moment, startlingly, a vague change was noticeable in the lineaments of the features.

It was the same gamin who had given the sleeping boy money.  But now, in the candle-light, with only the head showing, it was no boy who glared malevolently at Eva, but a woman—­and that woman was the implacable Zita!

The head disappeared to give place to the visages of two horrible-looking men, the same brutes who were present when Balcom had spread the net of his conspiracy.

“When the jack of clubs,” droned the witch, “and the—­”

With barely a sound the two thugs entered the room behind Eva.  In the hand of one was an old gunny sack.

“—­and the queen of hearts—­”

Eva was so interested now that she leaned far over the table, her eyes fastened on the cards as they fell.

A thug stumbled.  Eva, startled, sat back quickly and tried to rise.  But the next instant she felt herself struggling in the heavy folds of the grimy gunny sack.

The emissaries, carrying Locke, had staggered with their burden into the warehouse cellar until, coming to a closed door, one of them rapped on it in a peculiar manner that was evidently a signal.  An instant, and the door opened.

Through it stalked the Automaton.

The monster gazed intently at Locke as though to determine whether it were indeed he, then waved the emissaries on to the shaft of a huge freight elevator.

In the shaft, directly under the elevator platform, they now cast Locke’s unconscious body.

“Are you sure the watchman’s still up above?” asked one.

“Sure.”

“Then give a ring for the basement.”

A thug pressed the button that signaled.  In a moment, creaking and groaning, the massive elevator started to descend.

A shuffling of feet was heard and down the stairs leading from Old Meg’s quarters came the two thugs carrying Eva.  A few feet behind them, still in boy’s clothes, was Zita.