She turned. The emissaries on the other end
of the dock cut off any chance in that direction.
Without a moment's hesitation Eva poised herself a moment on the edge of
the dock and leaped far out into the blackness of the river.
CHAPTER XIII
The box that held Locke a prisoner was now undoubtedly resting on the
slimy bottom. Eva had totally disappeared. The Automaton, convinced that
at last he had rid himself of his victims, waved away the emissaries and
departed.
Except for the tiny lights of ships on the river and the staccato
exhaust of a tugboat, the river flowed with nothing to remind one of the
two tragedies of only a few seconds ago.
As far as the eye could see, the surface of the water was unbroken.
Then, suddenly, the scene changed. For from out the water, as though
hurled up by a catapult, shot a man's body.
It was Locke.
By what miracle had he escaped from the watery grave?
From the time he was a small boy the study of locks and bolts, of knots
and strait-jackets, of anything that could restrain or bind a man, had
held a marvelous fascination for him, until now he was recognized as one
of the world's greatest experts on these subjects.
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