e and repeated the instructions that Doctor Q had
suggested.

"Am I to understand that you intend to turn state's evidence?"
questioned Locke, doubtfully.

"Assuredly," hastened Balcom.

"Then I'll be right over."

As Balcom hung up the receiver he chuckled sardonically. He was just
turning to an antique brazier to arrange for Locke's reception when Zita
was announced and at once admitted.

"I've failed, Mr. Balcom," she apologized, "failed miserably. Locke took
Mr. Brent away from me--and they ordered me never to return to the
house."

"You little idiot!" Balcom almost hissed. "I'll not tolerate a failure,
either. Get out!"

Although Zita almost went on her knees in her pleading to him, Balcom
was adamant, and finally she left in utter despair.

Outside, she telephoned to Paul to see if she might induce him to use
his influence in reinstating her in his father's good graces.

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. A ring came at the door and Balcom leaped
to his feet and lighted the powder in the brazier. Then he adjusted a
gas-mask that Doctor Q had given him, and, returning to the divan, lay
down, pulling a camel's-hair coverlet well over himself as he awaited
results.

There was a rap at the door and a peremptory demand for entrance--a
pause--and a whispered consultation outside.

"Open the door!" cried Locke, again.

As there was no answer, heavy blows were rained upon the door, and
finally it gave way.

Three men stumbled into the room. They stared about, then started to
search the place. One by one they started to cough. Locke, who was the
farthest away from the brazier, seemed to be the least affected.

Finally he spied the note on the table and snatched it up. By the dim
light he read:

You will never live to capture me. The deadly gas is
even now killing you.

Locke gasped. There was the sound of a heavy fall behind him. He turned
and saw that one of his men was down.

He took a step forward, when the other pitched on his face.

Locke tried to rescue them, but by this time the deadly fumes had
reached him and he, too, fell to the floor, coughing his life away.

At that moment Balcom