No one was in the library as Locke ran in and looked about. He turned
toward the door to the hallway where the portieres were drawn. As he was
standing there, looking about, the portieres moved behind him. Suddenly
they were jerked aside from their fastenings and flung over his head. As
this happened, the ponderous hand of the Automaton descended on Locke's
head and he sank to the floor as the portieres wrapped about him.
When the department agents with Eva arrived, they were merely in time to
untangle Locke from the curtains. The Automaton had fled safely.
Although his head was still reeling from the blow, Locke started to
question the prisoner, but gave it up as a bad job and hurried over to
examine the safe, followed by Eva.
Their dismay was mutual. Not only was the safe door open, but the paper
was gone.
Question the emissary as they would, they could get nothing out of him.
Such men have keenly developed the gang instinct of silence. They would
sooner die than squeal.
Even a night in jail failed to break the reticence of the emissary,
although he had been subjected to the most strenuous third degree.
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