hs myriads of
bubbles of air arose.

Knife in hand, the emissary leaped aboard and came toward her.
Automatically, frantically, she still turned the useless pump, while
with her free arm she tried to ward off the poised knife.

Again her shriek for help echoed across the water--and this time her
call was answered.

Had she gone mad? The voice that answered her was the voice of the man
she loved. Her brain reeled and she fell at the feet of the murderous
thug.

Other cries, then shouts were now heard, for some fisher folk were
putting out off shore to discover what all the tumult was about.

The Automaton made a hasty gesture to the emissary, who sprang back from
his victim and leaped to his own launch, where, with his assistance,
there was barely time to haul aboard the chief thug, who had been sent
below to attack Locke. The launch cast off and with ever-increasing
speed headed down the river.

Locke was the first to arrive and climb over the side of the boat.
Dripping though he was, he took Eva in his arms and bathed her face,
while by this time other craft arrived and friendly hands did all they
could to care for them both.

It was some minutes before Eva was restored and all headed again to the
shore, eager to help Locke.

As he assisted Eva to land, and they waited for a carriage, Locke
hastily offered a boatman a liberal reward for the discovery of the
precious diving-suit, for it had been his intention to present the
patent to the government.

Meanwhile some strange things had happened. Paul and his father had
quarreled over money, over De Luxe Dora, over Paul's manner of life and
his ill luck in winning Eva's affections.

At the same time Dora had become more insistent in her demands for money
to meet her extravagances, and Paul conceived an idea of selling one of
the patents to a rival company. Strange to say, it had been the
self-liberating diving-suit and the rival company was the Under Seas
Company.

All this took place some time after the disappearance of the Automaton
and his precious crew.

Some hours later that evening a telephone message came for Locke from
the boatman that the diving-suit had been recovered and was being held
by him.

Locke replied that he would be down in an hour. But during that hour
other strange things occurred. For no sooner had the boatman hung up his
receiver than a pleasant voice hailed him and he left his house to
investigate. It was Paul Balcom.

It was i