"Straight ahead," came the voice of Tom-Tom in the darkness. "Being mechanical, I have a head for mechanics. I devised all these secret panels. Neat?"

"Dramatic," replied Gascon, who could be ironical himself. "Now, Tom-Tom, if I do what you want, what happens to me and to Miss Cole?"

"You both stay with me."

"You won't let them ransom her?"

A chuckle, and: "I'll take the ransom money, but she's seen too much to go free. Maybe I'll make the two of you a nice suite of rooms for house-keeping—barred in, of course. Didn't you use to carry me around in a little case, Gaspipe? I'll take just as good care of you, if you do what I want."

The little monster did something or other to open a second door, and beyond showed the light of a strong electric lamp. They passed into a big windowless room, with rough wooden walls, probably a deep cellar. It held a complicated arrangement of electrical machinery.

Hopping lightly to a bench the height of Gascon's shoulder, Tom-Tom seized a switch and closed it. There were emissions of sparks, a stir of wheels and belts, and the hum of machinery being set in motion.

"This, Gaspipe, is what brought me to life. And look!" The jointed wooden hand flourished toward a corner. "There's the kind of thing that was tried and failed."

It looked like a caricature of an armored knight—a tall, jointed, gleaming thing, half again as big as a big man, with a head shaped like a bucket. There were no features except two vacant eyes of quartz, staring through the blank metal as through a mask. Gascon walked around it, his doctor-mind and builder-hands immediately interested. The body was but loosely pinned together, and he drew aside a plate, peering into the works.

"The principle's wrong," he announced at once. "The fellow didn't understand anatomical balance—"

"I knew it, I knew it!" cried Tom-Tom. "You can add the right touch, Gaspipe. That's the specimen that came closest to success before me. I'll help. After all, my brain was made by the old boy who did all these things. Through it, I know what he knew."

"Why didn't you save him to help you?" demanded Gascon. He picked up a pair of tapering pincers and a small wrench, and began to tinker.

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