"These proxies," he was declaring, "give you absolute control, Miss Brent. With them you can force Mr. Balcom completely out of International Patents."
It was Balcom himself who spoke. How the man had got past the butler, who certainly had no love for him, was mystifying. Yet here he was, ready and eager to defend his interests.
"I was just telling Miss Brent," informed the lawyer, coldly, "that with these proxies which I have obtained and just handed to her, she was in complete control of the company."
"And you, Mr. Balcom," interposed Locke, stepping forward, "will play no further part in the activities of the company. Miss Brent desires your resignation, to take effect immediately."
"Why--why--this is unheard of--absurd!" sputtered Balcom. "I'll--I'll--" And his rage got the better of him.
"No, Mr. Balcom," again interrupted Locke, "you will do nothing. It is I who will give you twenty-four hours to arrange your affairs with the company before I order your removal--or arrest."
Balcom tried to remonstrate, to plead his innocence of any wrong-doing. Finding no sympathy by taking this attitude, his manner changed abruptly and he attempted to bluster.
A decisive movement toward the telephone on the part of Locke checked this and, chameleon-like, Balcom's usual suave manner came to the fore. He bowed himself out.
"It will, of course, be as you say." He smiled oilily.
Once in the hall, however, his manner changed again, and, darkly scowling and biting his thin lips, he was about to quit the place, when Zita, limping only slightly, intercepted him.
"Mr. Balcom," she pleaded, "come out the back way. I must see you alone a moment."
They tiptoed out to the grounds, and, behind a hedge where they could not be observed from the house, talked.
"Tell me what has happened," demanded Zita.
"Happened?" repeated Balcom. "Why, they've thrown me out of the company--at least, they think they have."
His mind was working quickly, and after a pause he turned to Zita sharply. "Can you get Brent out of the house and bring him to me here behind this hedge at eight o'clock to-night?"
Zita nodded an eager acquiescence and left him, returning to the house.
That evening Locke, returning from a stroll around the grounds, noticed a movement in some shrubbery at the side of the foot-path. He went closer to investigate, and a rough-looking individual broke from cover and ran away through the underbrush as fast as he could go. It was too dark to follow and Locke hastened his steps to the house, fearing some new deviltry on the part of the Automaton or his emissaries.