"Go to the girl you really love," she scorned.
"The girl—I really love?" repeated Locke; then there ran through his mind what had happened, as though it had been ages ago.
He protested and tried to explain. But protestations and explanations only made matters worse, as usual. Had she not with her own eyes seen Locke in Zita's arms?
"Eva," he persisted, manlike, "I swear that she was only trying to save my life. I cannot help it if she—"
Locke saw that his defense was only making an innocent matter worse, and checked himself. His mind recalled that some one had once said that a jealous woman believes a man guilty until he proves himself innocent; when he has proved himself innocent she merely still suspects. Eva's manner was very constrained.
At that moment a policeman, followed by Zita, entered, and Zita, running up to Locke, cried, anxiously, "You're not hurt—are you?"
Locke answered in an annoyed negative.
The policeman now questioned them very closely and examined the dead inventor's body. Then he entered their names and addresses in his note-book.
Next the officer lead the entire group down to the garden. There the horribly injured emissary was trying miserably to crawl away.
The Automaton had totally disappeared.