The Master Mystery | Page 8

They were beyond help. It was the laughing madness.
Outside, in the hall, Eva and Locke had been standing, talking for a
moment, when suddenly, below, they heard a terrific noise in the cellar.
Involuntarily Eva's hand clutched Locke's arm. Locke drew a revolver
and, in spite of Eva's fearsome caution, hastened down the cellar stairs.
About in the blackness of the cellar he groped until his foot touched
something soft, a mass on the floor. He bent over. It was the butler, in a
heap, unconscious, but still breathing.
There was not a sound, not another being in the cellar.
Together Eva and Locke helped the now half-conscious man to his feet
and pushed and pulled him up the stairs; as slowly he recovered his
power of speech.
"What was it--tell us?" urged Locke.
"I--I went down to fix the fuses--as the master ordered," muttered the
butler, incoherently. "A huge figure--steel hand--it flung me across the
floor--the last I remember."
He passed his hand over his head as though recollection even was too
horrible for description.
Locke listened a bit doubtfully, then sent the butler on his way to bed,
while Eva could scarcely restrain her fears.
Over to the dining-room door Locke strode and listened. There was
nothing but the sound of merriment inside, of uncontrollable laughter.
Could it be that Brent and Flint were drinking? He dared not betray a

fear to Eva. Instead he knocked.
At that moment he could hear the sound of some heavy body falling;
then more laughter as Brent in his hysteria struck the model of the
automaton to the floor.
With the model, unnoticed by Brent, now fluttered to the floor the letter
he had been writing. But the madman paid no attention to that now as it
sifted through the air and fluttered under the sideboard.
"Mr. Brent," called Locke, "please open the door."
Instead of an answer came a loud and insulting laugh, followed by an
incoherent mouthing of words. Eva looked startled, blanched. It was so
unlike her father. For the moment Locke was piqued. But he tried not
to show it as he turned away from the door.
"I am your father's employe," he said, sadly, "and it is his privilege, I
suppose, to laugh at me." He hesitated.
"Oh, but, Quentin--Mr. Locke--I'm--I'm so sorry. Surely he could not
have meant it."
At the head of the stairs Locke tried to smile.
"Don't worry," he said, repressing his feelings. "It will make no
difference between us. Good night."
They parted, Eva closing her door for a sleepless night, Locke to work
far into the night in his laboratory until sheer exhaustion overcame his
feelings.
Meanwhile, in the dining-room, the two men kept terrible vigil, hour
after hour, oblivious of time, in wild and wanton laughter--maniacal
abandon.
A terrible blow had been struck and Reason was tottering on her throne.
Two men had been stricken by an unknown hand--stark, stark mad.

CHAPTER V
"Father--please--open the door!"
It was early the following morning that the butler with frightened face
had called Eva Brent to tell her that her father and Flint had been
locked in the dining-room all night and were still laughing madly.
Eva had hurried down-stairs, encountering Zita as she ran. It was true.
She could hear the voices inside. Nor could she get any answer from
the two men.
"Oh--Zita--please--can't something be done?" Eva implored.
With a hasty word Zita hurried away just as Herbert Balcom himself
entered the house from the street.
In utter surprise Balcom nodded at Zita as she poured forth the story of
what had been discovered in the morning, then pushed past her in high
excitement.
"What's wrong?" he asked as he came upon the butler and Eva still
knocking excitedly at the dining-room door.
Eva was almost in a panic as she answered, "Father and Mr. Flint have
been in there laughing ever since last night."
Balcom tried to comfort her. But somehow his sympathy sent a cold
shudder through the poor girl.
Meanwhile Zita had encountered Locke hurrying down at the sound of
the commotion. To him she told the story, again hurt that his interest
was solely for Eva, not in herself.
Locke paused long enough to seize an umbrella from the rack, rip the
cover off, and break out a rib, to which he tied a piece of string while
he hurried to the group at the door.

"Break down the door and call the police," ordered Balcom.
The butler reached for a chair and was about to swing it over his head
to break down the door.
"Stop!" interrupted Locke.
The young scientist knelt down, inserted the umbrella steel through the
keyhole, and bent it by the string as he fished about with it on the other
side to