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Zita's lips formed a cruel line and a flinty hardness came into her eyes. Her hand dropped. There were only a few feet between Locke and the descending elevator. Locke was struggling frenziedly to escape and rescue Eva. Zita's hand went out again and grasped the handle of the switch. She hesitated, hate on her face. Would she, for love of Locke, who had not returned her love, save him?
Worldly joys must vanish, worldly hopes decay, but Saint Zita's and Reverend Mother will be here waiting for you." How she longs for the peace and quiet of the old home and the comforting touch of Reverend Mother's kind arms about her! What is it that the nuns are singing! The "Magnificat."
"There she sits," he exclaimed, "and half of the voting power of this company belongs to her Zita Brent, Zita Dane Brent." Instantly Locke was on his feet. "Balcom, you lie!" he rasped. "Lie or no lie," retorted Balcom, "as vice-president of the company I refuse to permit any action to be taken until Zita's position is legally established." Locke turned to Eva.
Always quick to act, Zita raised her hand as if to arrange her hair, and as she did so she purposely knocked the test-tube out of the doctor's hand. The acid spattered on some of the papers, quickly setting them afire. Doctor Q, wildly excited, started to beat out the flames, and in so doing allowed several unseared letters to flutter to the floor. One in particular arrested Zita's attention.
The next instant the door was flung wide open, and the collie, rushing into the room, performed an ecstatic dance round him, barking and whining with delight. He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog. "Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands, like a good dog!" The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face. "Shall we go to dinner?" she asked coldly.
Often Balcom and Zita, either together or alone, had taken advantage of the discovery. It was at a time when both were using the mechanical eavesdropper on Locke and Eva in the library that Locke suddenly decided to return to the laboratory, without saying anything about it. Zita's quick ear heard him down the hall. "Quick!" she warned. "Some one is coming!"
Could she bring herself to save this man for a woman she hated, who had won him from her? If she saved him it would be only to lose him to the other woman. With a great creaking the massive elevator was within only a few short inches of Locke. Every fiber of Zita's body was galvanized into action as she threw the whole weight of her body against the elevator emergency-control switch.
Presently the sound of music breaks in on the evening stillness, the sound of an organ responding to the touch of skilled fingers and blended with it the tones of women's voices. The nuns in a neighboring convent are chanting the evening office. The sound recalls the chapel at Saint Zita's, the orchard, the nuns, dear kind Reverend Mother. What peaceful, happy hours those were?
Zita, hurrying out from the conservatory, and wishing to waste not an instant in notifying Balcom, sought a near-by telephone pay-station, and there in frantic haste she demanded Balcom's number. It was some moments before Central could make the connection, and then it was only to Zita's disappointment and growing fear. The Madagascan servant of Balcom answered in the absence of his master.
Has she ever known real happiness since she quitted the quiet convent home of her childhood? Even in the days of her greatest triumphs, was there not always something she could not attain, the little bit more which was always wanting? But at Saint Zita's, how different, oh! how different! Happiness such as the world could not dream of ruled within its walls.
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