"I've found the antidote," hastened to report the professor.
With a cordial word of thanks Locke turned from the telephone and faced the group in the room. As he made the announcement, Eva almost embraced him in the flood of relief at the thought of her father restored.
"Eva," growled Balcom, "you forget yourself. As Paul's father, I cannot countenance such actions."
"Mr. Balcom," interrupted Locke, "I am sure you will be kind in your criticism of Miss Brent. She has merely overrated my service to her."
"Paul shall hear of this," stormed Balcom.
"If your son cares to take the matter up with me," returned Locke, now on his dignity, "I am always to be found—here."
"Never mind," interposed Flint, who feared to see his chance slipping, "I've got to get out of the country. Mr. Locke, your antidote is probably valueless; mine is the certain one. Look at me, Miss Brent. Am I not cured?"
"You miserable sneak," scowled Locke, stepping over to him, "we don't need your assistance now."
"I'm dealing with Miss Brent," insisted Flint, insolently.
Eva, a bit nervous over Balcom's overbearing manner, interposed. "Mr. Locke," she said, with just a touch of dignity for effect on Balcom, "this is a matter of life and death, and I am not in favor of permitting a proven antidote to be taken out of the country by this—this man. I have every confidence in you, but suppose—just suppose—that your chemist friend is mistaken."