“There must be some antidote for this Madagascar madness, and I shall move everything to find it,” he said, as he looked at Eva with determination.

She turned toward him eagerly as he spoke and his words gave her a little cheer.  Eva continued her caresses, but the demented man showed no signs of recognizing even his own daughter.

From another room the shrill laughter of Flint could be heard as he raved in delirium.  Bereft of reason, he fought an unseen enemy.

“Q did it, I tell you—­it’s Q,” he raved and shrieked in his insane way as he rocked back and forth in bed.  He was fighting his own conscience, and kept pushing some unseen thing from him as he shook in a paroxysm of fright.

The front-door bell rang and Balcom entered.  He was suave in manner, but this time he seemed a little excited as he gave his hat and stick to the butler.

“Tell Miss Brent I must see her at once,” he ordered.

As the butler turned to mount the stairs, Balcom reached his hand up and rubbed his shoulder as though he were in pain.  Perhaps the gesture meant nothing, but a keen observer would have noticed that his arm did not move with the freedom that one would expect of a man of his frame and build.  As he rubbed his shoulder his eyes followed the butler up the stairs and his lips tightened.  He watched him until he was out of sight, then turned and entered the library.

As Balcom entered the library the door-bell rang and the three ambulance men who had been overpowered by the emissaries of the Automaton entered.  Balcom approached them and hasty explanations were forthcoming.  In his suave manner he quieted the most noisy of the trio, who by this time had found the strait-jacket from which Locke had just released himself.

“This looks like a put-up job to me,” growled the driver, as he confronted Balcom, holding the strait-jacket toward him.  “And I believe you know something about it.”

“My dear man, I am the person who telephoned for you to come for my stricken partner,” said Balcom, “and I still insist that he is in dire need of treatment.”

As he spoke Eva entered the library in time to hear him.  She was followed by Locke.

“My father shall not be taken from this house,” she cried, in reply to Balcom’s orders to the attendants.

As she spoke she turned toward Locke and looked at him for his acquiescence.  He quietly nodded toward her in an assuring manner, and as he did so one might have noticed Balcom’s face cloud up with evil purpose.  He was thinking of this young whipper-snapper and his interference with his plans.  As he stood meditating he noticed that Locke was looking at him, so he turned toward the young chemist and his whole expression changed.  A bland smile crept across his face as he spoke.

“I was only suggesting that my partner be taken to an institution, because I believed that he would receive better treatment there.”  He addressed Locke, but looked toward Eva as he did so.  “Miss Brent should have trust in me.  I have only her interest at heart.”