The man was still evidently unconscious of her presence. But suddenly he must have heard Eva move. For he wheeled around, and instinctively his hands went above his head.
As for Eva, the cry that she had suppressed at his appearance was suppressed no longer, for the man whom she held at her mercy was—Locke!
"How did you come here?" gasped Eva.
Hurriedly he told her his story—how he felt that the clue that would lead to the unraveling of this mystery was now to be found in Chinatown, how he had made his way, therefore, to the Chinese quarter, how he had tracked the Madagascan.
Knowing the futility of trying to enter any private place of the Orientals, much less their temple, in Occidental garb, he had waylaid a Chinaman in an alley, had stripped him, and had changed clothes with him.
Disguised thus, Locke had managed to enter, to observe, and was only now on his way to summon assistance. For he had decided to have the place raided. Only now he was stricken almost dumb with astonishment at being confronted by Eva.
There was no time for more. Before Eva could explain her own presence there the door burst open, the panels slid back, and a horde of emissaries and Chinamen swarmed about them.
Eva fired her automatic again and again, but could not stay the rush.
Locke fought with the courage of despair. But they were too many and soon bore him down.
As they carried Locke into the chamber of torture the last thing he saw was Eva surrounded by her foes, who were closing in on the poor girl.