“Tell Miss Brent that if she refuses to see me she will regret it all her life.”

Eva was intensely interested now, for she recognized the voice of De Luxe Dora.  But with her interest there came a feeling of repulsion with which this woman always inspired her, and her first impulse was to have Dora shown out of the house.

The very nature of the danger with which they were all surrounded, however, prohibited such a drastic course.  Yet how dare that woman enter Brent Rock?

Still, the very fact of her so daring pointed to some serious matter which Eva felt she ought to know.  At any rate, there could be no harm to listen to Dora’s reason for coming, and there would probably be much to be learned.

Eva called to the butler and he stepped aside, and Dora, all smiles now, and with her hand extended in greeting, advanced toward Eva, who ignored her extended hand.

“Need I tell you,” remarked Eva, coldly, “that I am astounded at your presumption in coming here?”

“Miss Brent,” replied Dora, “believe me, nothing but my present mission could have induced me to do so.  There are wheels within wheels which have made it appear that I am your enemy.  But that is far from being the truth, as my present mission to you will prove.”

Dora was clever and played her cards cleverly.  However, Eva was on guard.

“Please come to the point,” she insisted.  “Tell me exactly why you have come.”

Dora paused a moment, then replied, impressively, “I have come to save your father’s life.”

Eva caught herself almost gasping in astonishment as Dora covertly watched the effect of her words.  “You have the antidote, then?” asked Eva, breathlessly.

“Not exactly that,” replied Dora, quickly.  “But I can take you where you can obtain it.  A man has arrived from Madagascar who has it in his possession.”

“What shall I do?” almost wailed the poor girl.  “How can I know that you speak the truth?”

Dora’s voice now assumed a cold decisiveness.  “That is for you to decide,” she said merely.  “Refuse to come with me and your father will surely die of his madness.  Consent—­and he may live.”

Eva could hesitate no longer.  Bidding Dora wait, she ran up the stairs, returning in a few moments garbed for the street.

They left the house together, but not before the butler had surreptitiously slipped a large automatic into Eva’s hand-bag.

In the Chinese temple, or Joss-house, the last devotee had departed.  The hanging lights had been dimmed and now the fantastic shapes with which the place was decorated, seen in the subdued light, stood out in all their shadowy weirdness.

From the raised dais, the seven-handed god assumed an added majesty and awfulness, while, deep-seated as though from a smoldering caldron, two points of fire gleamed from the god’s eyes with utmost malevolence.

Slowly a panel in the wall slid back and the bestial visage of the Strangler peered out.