Down in the cellar the Automaton had succeeded in rubbing off the insulation of the feed wires. There was a flash of light as he laid his steel hand over the two feed wires—then darkness.
In the dining-room Brent and Flint, already keyed to the highest pitch, leaped to their feet with an exclamation of terror.
Late as it was, Locke was working in his laboratory on the second floor of the house when the lights winked out. Surprised for the moment, he ran out into the hall.
Already there was the butler, groping about with a candle.
"What's the matter, Quentin?" asked a breathless voice behind them.
It was Eva in a filmy dressing-gown. Locke turned to vision a creation of loveliness in the candle-light which set his heart thumping.
"Nothing," he reassured. "Just the lights short-circuited, that's all. I'll see."
Just then the dining-room door opened and Eva saw her father, disheveled and preoccupied, stride out and take the five-branched candlestick from the hall table. Nervously he began to light the candles. They sputtered a bit and he turned quickly, still holding the candlestick, as the smoke drifted away from them all.
"Fix the fuses in the cellar," he directed the butler.
"Is anything—really the matter—father?" implored Eva.