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But now Locke's youth and clean living began to tell in his favor and he sensed that his adversary was weakening. He redoubled his efforts. After a particularly vicious blow from Locke, Balcom threw up his hands and toppled over backward in the direction of the rack-bar itself. Locke tried to throw Balcom's body out of the way. It was too late.
To avoid discovery, Locke backed his car around a corner, got out, and watched their movements from a safe distance. He saw Balcom, senior, alight, but Paul did not leave the car. Locke was in some quandary what to do. To attempt to enter the house without Paul's seeing him and raising the alarm would, he realized, be impossible.
"Your coming seemed to have an unfortunate effect," he hinted. "The man seemed to know one of you at least." "Nothing of the kind," retorted Balcom, nettled. Locke turned to Paul and regarded his injured arm questioningly. Paul, however, never lost his accustomed aplomb. "I was hurt in an automobile accident," he explained, though with what seemed to be a trifle of nervousness.
She shuddered slightly as she passed the miniature of the monster, and Balcom, with an air of satisfaction, noticed her fear. He turned and was about to go out, when the butler entered with the duplicate candlestick in his hands. "Mr. Locke, in cleaning the hall I found this behind the portières at the entrance to below-stairs," he announced.
"Do as I say," returned Balcom, as he left quickly. It was some hours later that in the dark corner of the Graveyard of Genius the huge rock slowly swung outward. There was a clanging and clanking of metal. Two fiery eyes gleamed through the aperture and out stalked the hideous monster, the Automaton.
As soon as Zita was gone Balcom busied himself with the ancient brazier and was standing before a small image of Buddha. He took a small package and from it poured a powder into the bowl of the brazier. Then, going to the table, he wrote a short note, after which he went to a divan and awaited Locke's coming. Balcom had not long to wait.
Both turned to Doctor Q Doctor Q no longer, but really Quentin Locke, senior, whence had come the "Q." His eyes filled with tears and his voice choked. "My children," he murmured, "I see that it is not too late for me to find happiness, after all. Our enemy is dead. It was Balcom, of course, who was in that frame of armor, who used that terrible poison that stole away Brent's mind.
Hastily she told what she had overheard about the proposed receivership, and all four now Balcom, Doctor Q, Dora, and Zita talked excitedly. But it was plainly Balcom who was in command of the situation. Although livid with rage at the news he had heard, yet he maintained control of the others, directing what they should do with a decisiveness that was truly remarkable.
It was like asking her whether she would have a Gorham tea-set, a Balcom gown, or a Packard landaulet. She wanted them all. But her eyes caught the prices. Four dollars for an English pheasant! No wonder they called it golden. It seemed a shame, though, to stick such a nice man, after he had already ordered two dollars and a half's worth of caviar. She chose the cheapest thing.
Balcom stepped into his own car, while Paul hailed a taxicab, and a few minutes later Balcom alighted before the house of Old Meg. He walked down the alley and descended into the den. As before, Meg was in hiding in a dark corner until she could ascertain just who her visitor might be. Seeing Balcom, she came out and courtesied and scraped as she had for Paul.
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