THE MASTER MYSTERY. Arthur B. Reeve
to the departure of Zita and Flint, Eva's suspicions from a vague misgiving became a stern reality. She longed for Locke's return and protection from the very man to whom she was engaged.
As Locke left the chemist's he noticed a light runabout across the street, half hidden in the shadows. But he failed to notice the evil face of De Luxe Dora peering at him from beneath the rim of a well-pulled-down hat.
"Huh!" she muttered. "We'll get his number and here's where I go after it."
Locke hailed a passing taxicab, gave a hurried direction to the chauffeur, and jumped in. The taxi snorted, cut out open, and jumped forward as the driver clumsily shifted the worn gears. But out of the shadows there glided a low-hung runabout with a purling motor that without effort kept Locke's taxi just in sight without seeming to be following.
At the time that the emissaries abducted Flint he had been roughly handled and some of his clothing had been torn. But as he had been incapable of the slightest degree of real self-defense, the thugs had soon desisted beating him up, with the result that he had escaped bodily injury except for a few slight scratches.
The emissaries of the Automaton led him by devious winding paths down to the shore, and, half walking, half running, pressing close to the high cliffs, they urged him forward.
Soon they came to a cleft in the rock, and, with one hand using a well-hooded electric torch to light the way, they dragged the poor unfortunate into the cave entrance to the den.
This cave was a marvel of nature, hewn out of the solid rock by countless tides, its dome lost in the darkness. It gave an impression of immensity, while in many directions passageways gave off from what might be called a main chamber.
Flint was roughly thrown on a rock, where, head in hands, he swayed backward and forward, now moaning, now chuckling, now laughing outright. The echo of that laugh resounded hollowly in the dismal place and must have notified the supreme master of this underground world that his domain had been invaded.
A metallic clanging in the distance, as of struck anvils, a crunching, as the smaller rocks broke in twain under the enormous weight of the iron monster, then far, far down the passageway two points of fire—the eyes of the thing—and with arms swinging like flails, from out the passageway there stalked—the Automaton.
Even the emissaries, slaves to this monster through fear, and seeing it often, fell back in awe and consternation, so terrible was its menace.
It strode over to Flint and, pushing him backward, glared at him with burning eyes that seemed to search his soul. The monster then turned to one of the emissaries and, with a sweeping gesture, gave a command.
The emissary understood and immediately ran up one of the passageways, returning in a few moments with a bottle which contained a purplish mixture. At another sign from the Automaton the emissary took a drinking-glass and poured out a portion of the purple fluid. Then he forced the draught between Flint's clenched teeth.
A violent trembling shook Flint from head to foot, a shudder of so exhausting a nature that after the spasm Flint, weakened, reclined against the cold wall of the cave, his body in a clammy perspiration. But gradually there came a change in his dazed, mad eyes. The iris contracted and became more normal. Even the leaden hue of his face slowly passed away. The face muscles relaxed and gradually the light of reason appeared in his eyes.
In a questioning manner Flint gazed about him. He saw the cave with its scintillating points of fire, as the man with the torch gesticulated. He saw the emissaries, and the realization that his position was perilous came to him. But it was only when he saw the towering form of the Automaton that his blood froze with horror and he made a frantic effort to escape the very thing which he had feared existed in Madagascar and had attempted to betray to Brent on the fatal night.
It was useless. He was soon borne down by the thugs, who stationed two of their number to guard him. Seeing the utter hopelessness of any attempt to escape, Flint sat quietly, while his crafty mind schemed for some other plan. Suddenly he saw the bottle, the contents of which had restored his reason. Reaching out slyly, he turned it around until he could read the label, and then, even in his predicament, he exulted over his discovery. It was the antidote. Like a flash came to him a shrewd scheme to use the knowledge.
An emissary who seemed to be a leader came over to him.
"Flint," he snarled, "you get one chance—see? Beat it back to Brent Rock and see that you get that Brent girl to come to the place where we will turn you loose. Understand? If you fail it means death. Think it over."
Flint could only agree.
They bandaged his eyes and quickly led him back over the road by which they had come.
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