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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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"I WISH to see Inspector Byrnes at once."
It was Nick Carter who spoke, and he was standing before the desk where genial Tom Adams presides, at Police Headquarters in the city of New York.
"Hello, Nick!" exclaimed Tom; "is that you? What's up now?"
"Is he engaged?" asked Nick, disregarding the last question.
"No, go right in."
"Thanks."
One moment later, Nick Carter and the great inspector were alone together in the private office.
"Well, Nick, what can I do for you?"
"You can listen to the most remarkable sequence of events that ever came to the knowledge of a human being; that is, if the last one is true."
"That is putting it rather strong, Nick."
"None too strong, however."
"You interest me."
"I will astonish you."
"Good; I like to be astonished. The sensation will have a novelty with me. I don't think I have really been astonished in ten years. But let me hear your yarn."
"You remember Dr. Quartz?"
"Certainly."
"And Zel, the woman who passed as Clarita Downing, and who afterward poisoned herself in the boarding-house opposite where I live?"
"Yes. She was the female fiend, wasn't she?"
"I should say so."
"What about her?"
"Do you recall the circumstances of her death?"
"Perfectly."
"Do you remember that you and Inspector Williams both laughed at me for causing a watch to be placed over her corpse, until she was buried?"
"Yes, and over her grave also, after she was buried. That was the most laughable part of it."
"Events have proven that I was justified in my caution, in fact, that I did not exercise caution enough."
"Eh? How long did you watch the grave?"
"A week."
"Well, in all conscience, when a person has been buried a week, under six feet of earth, I think a reasonable doubt might be entertained as to the possibility of that person being alive."
"Yes. if the person who was buried was an ordinary one."
"Oh, come, Nick! All people are ordinary."
"Perhaps so. Did you ever hear of a famous trick sometimes played by the Hindu fakirs, called 'the resurrection?'"
"Often."
"Do you know what they do?"
"Partly."
"A fakir causes himself to be buried, after first lying down and dying. The best physicians have not been able to detect a sign of life about the fakir."
"Humph!"
"The spectator sees him die; he watches while the supposed corpse is buried; he places a guard over the grave, and it is watched unceasingly for the number of days which the fakir has designated; usually, thirty days; at he expiration of that time he sees the grave opened. The body is exhumed. Presently it begins to show signs of life; later it sits up and talks, and finally the fakir gets up and walks away, as much alive as before he was buried.
"Well, I have my own opinion of that trick, Nick."
"What is it?"
"I think the spectator is 'green-goods'd'."
"Do you think that I could be 'green-goods'd?'"
"No."
"I have seen that trick performed in India; I have been the spectator; I have watched the grave, and I believe it can be and is done by those fakirs."
"Well, what are you getting at?"
"Dr. Quartz spent many years in India."
"I have heard so."
"He once played the 'dead' racket on the officials in Frisco."
"Yes, that is true."
"He was more expert in the knowledge of poisons than any man I ever heard of."
"Granted."
"Zel was his pupil."
"And a very apt one."
"I think she became even more expert than her instructor."
"Possibly—and now, what of it?"
"Zelma, the female fiend, is not dead."
"Pshaw!"
"I came to you because I thought you would like to know of it; because, if she is alive, you should know of it.
"Yes—true."
"She has been a murderer a dozen times."
"Yes."
"There is a way of proving my statement to be true or false?"
"How?"
"By opening the grave."
"Hum! How long has she been buried?"
"At three o'clock this afternoon it will be just forty-nine days."
"Well, I have no fancy for being present when a body that has been buried forty-nine days is uncovered."
"Nor I, but I believe that the grave will be found to be empty."
"You have some lately discovered reason for that idea?"
"Yes—certainly."
"Nick, if anybody but you should approach me on this subject, I should not entertain it for a moment. I will listen to you, however, so fire away."
"I have a servant named Patsy."
"Yes."
"A boy, and a very shrewd one."
"Yes."
"Patsy was with me in the 'Package 17—A' case."
"Yes."
"He is the cause of my call upon you to-day."
"Well?"
"A week ago he was in _* cemetery at the grave of a relative who has lately died."
*For obvious reasons, the author is requested to omit the name of the cemetery.
"Yes."
"It happened to be near that of Zelma."
"Humph!"
"He strolled that way in returning, and paused to look at it. Zel interests him because she came near doing for him once."
"Go on."
"He has sharp eyes, and, as he looked, he thought that the grave had some appearance of having been disturbed.
"Then he began a more careful examination.
"He was not sure about the disturbance, but presently he picked up a bit of paper that was near him, and was surprised to find that it contained the name 'Zelma.'
"Then he began searching for other bits of paper.
"Scattered about, in all directions, he found many.
"He spent the balance of the day there, picking up scraps of paper, and, at night, he came home.
"He said nothing to me about what he had found, but went to work at once, putting the bits together in proper shape."
"Well, did he succeed?"
"He did."
"What is the result?"
"Last night he handed me the most remarkable document that I ever saw."
"Remarkable in what way?"
"Here it is, pasted together in readable form. Read it."
"Thanks."
"You will see that part of the letter—the first part—is missing, and in three places Patsy has supplied a word to make the sense good, in this part. Probably the missing portion of the letter has been torn off to wrap around something, and the remainder was torn into bits as Patsy found it.
"But read it."
Here is what the inspector read:
".... count thirty days from that upon which I am supposed to have died; then subtract the number of hours necessary to place the time for your work in the night.
"In other words, if you would rescue me, you must act the night before, and not the night after the thirty days expire.
"Force my mouth open and give me five drops of liquid from this vial; no more, no less.
"Then wait, doing nothing, for thirty minutes. At the end of that time, if you have followed my instructions, I will speak to you.
"You have said that you love me and that you cared not what my sins might have been, if I would be your wife.
"Save me, and I will be yours!
"Remember, I shall have been thirty days in a grave; thirty days—less the few hours referred to—buried in the ground; thirty days dead!
"When I am resurrected, I will belong to you.
Zelma."
The inspector was now thoroughly interested.
"Do you believe that she has been exhumed, Nick?"
"Yes; I do."
"It looks like it."
"It does."
"Patsy missed one thing when he found these scraps of paper. I wish he had found the name of the man to whom this letter was addressed."
"Yes; but he didn't."
"No."
"Now, inspector, I have a plan."
"What?"
"Let us have the grave opened."
"With all my heart."
"Let us do it this afternoon.
"All right."
"At three. We will meet there, or here?"
"Here. Be here at two, Nick. I will ask Williams to go with us, and we will stop on the way over for Superintendent Campbell. That will just fill the carriage."
"Good; I will bring mine, and let Chick do the driving. Will you obtain the necessary permission?"
"Yes. I will have the details all fixed."
"Thanks, we will find the grave empty, mark my words."
"We will see—we will see, Nick."
"Did I ever tell you that Zel threatened to haunt me?"
"No."
"That is one reason why I watched her grave so carefully. There was a significance in what she said and in the way she said it, that made me think she contemplated some such dodge as this."
"But you finally abandoned the idea."
"Yes—when I had watched the grave a week, I decided that she meant what she said and really believed that she could return to haunt me as a ghost, pure and simple."
"And now, you think you understand what she meant?"
"Yes. This is what she meant."
"She was a hard one, Nick."
"She is a hard one, inspector. If ever there existed a downright fiend in human form, she is that fiend, and I believe that only for that letter she would have found a way to carry out her old threats."
AT precisely two o'clock that same afternoon, a carriage stopped before the door of Police Headquarters in Mulberry street.
Chick was on the box, and inside was Nick.
He wore the disguise of "Old Thunderbolt," for reasons best known to himself.
Presently, the two inspectors, Byrnes and Williams, the former in citizen's dress, and the latter in full uniform, issued from the building and entered the carriage where Nick was awaiting them.
Then it was driven away.
It stopped for a moment at the Municipal Building in Brooklyn, where Superintendent Campbell, who had been notified by telephone, joined them.
Then the carriage drove on.
In due time they reached the cemetery, and at last they stood beside the grave which was supposed to contain the body of Zelma, the female fiend.
Two workmen, connected with the cemetery, were there with their spades and picks, ready to proceed.
Presently Superintendent Campbell made a sign, and the work began.
The three officers and the two detectives stood silently looking on, each, no doubt, wondering what manner of sight would unfold itself to their vision, when the work of excavating should be done and the coffin be laid open to their gaze.
At last the pick gave forth a hollow sound, which told them as plainly as words could tell, that the coffin had been reached.
But a few moments were required to complete the preparations for opening it, and then the lid was taken off.
They knew, before the lid was removed, that the casket was not empty. It was much too heavy for that.
Old Thunderbolt looked puzzled, and Inspector Byrnes' smiled when they realized that the grave was not tenantless, after all.
Could it be that they had been hoaxed?
Suddenly, and just before the lid was lifted, Nick's face cleared.
He had guessed already the solution of the mystery.
Then the lid was thrown aside.
Immediately a cry of astonishment went up from the group of officers and detectives gathered about the open grave.
The face that they saw in the coffin was not Zel's, but that of a man; the same, no doubt, who had rescued her beautiful form from the ravages of worms.
Everybody in the party except Nick looked puzzled.
But the Little Giant only smiled as he looked from face to face, in order to see what impression the strange denouement had made upon them.
Inspector Byrnes was the first one to speak.
"Well, Nick," he said, "how do you explain this?"
"Very simply."
"I suppose so; but how?"
Nick pointed at the body in the coffin.
"There lies the man whose wife Zel promised to become," he said. "Granting that all that I suspect is true, she was rescued from this grave exactly in accordance with the direction that she had given, and then, as soon as she had strength enough to strike, she murdered her preserver and buried him in her own coffin.
"Gentlemen, the woman Zel is alive and in New York, while we stand here at her supposed grave.
"She believes that she is absolutely secure, because, having murdered her rescuer (the only person who knew that she lived), she believes that the world thinks her dead, and lying there."
The impression created by Nick's words was extremely revolting.
Even the police officers, accustomed as they were to crime in all its phases, shuddered involuntarily when they thought of the Frankensteinish propensities of this human fiend, Zel.
"If your letter is correct, Nick," said Inspector Byrnes, "the corpse of this man has been here eleven days."
"Yes."
"And yet decomposition has scarcely begun."
"There are two reasons for that, inspector."
"What are they?" asked Superintendent Campbell.
"One very natural reason is, that the weather has been unusually cool, but the chief and most important reason is that the young man was struck dead, placed in the coffin, and covered with earth in a very short lapse of time. Atmospheric influences had no chance to play havoc with his remains."
"Let us see how the crime was consummated. One would think that Zel could not carry deadly weapons with her to the grave."
"But it would be an easy matter for her to borrow one from the fellow she killed," said Inspector Williams. "The first thing is to find out the identity of this corpse. Time enough, then, to inquire how he was killed."
The body was at once taken from the coffin, and Chick proceeded to examine it, while the others stood looking on.
In the inside pocket of his coat were found several letters, addressed to Roger A. Merridale, Brooklyn, N. Y., and in the lower left-hand corner were the letters, "G. P. O.," meaning general post-office.
The discovery gave them the man's name, but no hint whatever of his address.
It was evident that Mr. Merridale had desired to conceal his place of abode, and that he had made a practice of calling at the post-office for his mail.
"I will give you Merridale's history in an hour after we return to the city, Carter," said Superintendent Campbell.
There is no surer way of inviting the police to obtain one's record in toto, than to call at the general post-office of a large city for letters bearing no other address.
If the postal officials do not know the man who applies for letters in that way, a secret service special is at once put upon his track.
When the desired information is procured, a copy is sent to the police department of the city, and the man is kept under surveillance or not, as the result of the investigation may suggest.
Many a contemplated crime is nipped in the bud in that way.
Many a life saved; many a bank-vault preserved intact.
There were a gold watch, a bunch of keys, seventeen dollars in money, a penknife, two handkerchiefs, and a self-acting Smith & Wesson revolver found in his pockets, besides the letters.
His dress was that of a man in excellent circumstances.
His clothing was of the finest quality; he wore a diamond stud in his shirt-bosom and a valuable ring of the same kind upon the little finger of his left hand.
In stature, he was below the medium height, and yet it had required some effort at crowding and bending, to force him into the coffin that had been originally made for Zel.
His features were regular and handsome, and he could not have been more than thirty years of age.
Everything suggested that he had died instantly, and without a struggle, and for a long time, even the astute officers were puzzled to explain the cause of his death.
Presently, however, Nick discovered the secret.
Imbedded in the man's neck, behind, and just where the fact was concealed by his curling hair, was a pin.
Nick pulled it out.
It was of unusual size, and from the point, half-way to the head, it had been discolored by the application of some chemical which had doubtless been the cause of death, as the stab of the pin alone could not have killed him at the point where it had been imbedded in his flesh.
The letters told them nothing of importance, but, with the other things found upon his person, they were, of course, carefully preserved.
But the main point, which had brought about the investigation, had been established.
Zel, the female fiend, was not dead.
She had risen from the grave and was at large, for the purpose of carrying out her threat against the great detective, Nick Carter.
She had already been eleven days at liberty, and Nick, who knew her so well, knew also that she would leave no stone unturned to make good her promises of vengeance upon him.
It was dark when Inspector Byrnes and Nick were again alone together in the former's office in Mulberry street.
"Well, inspector, what do you think of it all?" asked the Little Giant.
"It is remarkable."
"She is a wonderful woman."
"She is."
"Do you fear her, Nick?"
"I appreciate her ability, and I dread her machinations against my wife. Fear, in its true sense, I think was left out of me when I was manufactured."
"I think so, too. What do you suppose will be Zel's first move?"
"I haven't an idea."
"And in the meantime?"
"I shall look for her."
"Can you find her?"
"Perhaps not. If I do not, it will be the first failure of my life. Let me see that report that Superintendent Campbell gave us."
"Read it aloud, Nick."
"Roger A. Merridale, short, slight, handsome, twenty-nine or thirty years old, dresses expensively and somewhat flashily. Five feet five inches. Rooms at house of Mrs. de Plantois in Montclair, N.J. Goes to Brooklyn for much of his mail-matter. Receives some at Montclair. Seems to be straight. Has no associates and very few acquaintances. Is very proud and distant, when approached. Think his Brooklyn correspondents are those from whom he wishes to keep his real address for personal reasons. Has no active business so far as I can determine. Do not think that he need be watched.
"GORDON, Spec'l."
"Not much in that, Nick."
"No, and yet it suggests considerable."
Suddenly Nick bounded from the chair in which he was sitting, and slapped his hand upon the table with an emphasis that made things rattle.
The inspector looked at him in astonishment.
"Well, what now?" he asked.
"Inspector, I know where Zel can be found."
"The devil you do!"
"Sure."
"Where?"
"At the house of Mrs. De Plantois in Montclair, masquerading as Roger Merridale."
NICK'S previous experience with Zel had posted him pretty well, as to the most probable move that she would make when freed from the grave, and satisfied that nobody living knew that she was alive.
She was as fertile in laying her plots, as she was in the use of poisons, and he had no doubt that she had planned everything connected with her resurrection with the same consummate skill that distinguished all that she did.
The place where Merridale lived, his manner of life, his habits, everything pertaining to him had, without doubt, been directed by her brain, she knowing that ultimately she would masquerade in that character.
The cold-blooded woman who could plan a deliberate murder under such circumstances, must, indeed, be a fiend.
But cruelty was her pastime.
It was ten o'clock on the following morning when Nick Carter rang the bell of Mrs. De Plantois' boarding-house in Montclair.
He wore the dress of Old Thunderbolt; one with which he knew that Zel was acquainted, but he did not care if she did recognize him, if he could once more get her within reach.
She had so many subtle ways of avoiding the consequences of her crimes that the detective was firmly determined that she should have no farther chance with him.
A matronly appearing woman opened the door, and Nick, carpet-bag in hand, bowed profoundly.
"Kin I ax ef Mister Merridale lives here, mum?" he said.
"Yes, sir; he lives here."
"Kin I see him?"
"I will send up your card."
"My wat?"
"Your card."
"Oh, I see; yes! Well mum, I don't blame yew any."
"Blame me! for what?"
"Yew thought I was stan'in' far a prize in the cattle-show at the county fair, didn't yew? an' hed forgot the keerd wat they tie to the ears of the oxen, hey? Wal, I ain't. I'm plain Josh Juniper, an' I wanter see my nephy."
"Oh; is Mr. Merridale your nephew?"
"He be."
"I will tell him at once."
"Thanky."
"Sit down and I will send to his room directly."
"Is he in?"
"Yes—that is, I think so."
"Yew ain't sartin?"
"Well, no; I haven't seen him go out, and he usually is in at this time of day."
"Whar be his room, mum."
"Right at the head of the stairs; the back room."
"Thanky. I'm his Uncle Josh."
"So you said."
"Yes'm. I kinder wanter s'prise 'im."
"How?"
"By walkin' in onto him."
"Oh!"
'An' ef yew'll jes' stan' right at the bottom of the stairs an' listen, yew'll hear him holler with surprise in about a minute."
"Very well; that's his door there."
"Thanky."
Nick went hurriedly up the stairs, and tapped gently at the door.
There was no response, and presently he put his hand upon the knob, and abruptly walked in.
The room was empty.
"Gone, by gosh!" ejaculated Nick, in a voice that Mrs. De Plantois could hear.
"Has he gone out?" she exclaimed, following him into the room; "that is too bad."
Nick was at the bureau, for upon it his sharp eyes had quickly detected the presence of two letters.
One of them was addressed to Mrs. De Plantois, and the other, to "Nick Carter, detective, alias many pseudonyms."
"Say, mum," he said, turning to the woman, "he's gone, an' he's left a letter fur yew an' one for me."
"For you, also?" she exclaimed. "I thought he did not expect you."
"Wal, so'd I; but yew see, mum, that nephy of mine's a mighty pert young feller, an' don't yew furgit it, nuther; yew read yew're letter, an' I'll read mine."
Nick was, however, in no haste to read his own letter, but he did have considerable curiosity to know what the woman's letter contained.
While pretending to read his message, he in reality watched Mrs. De Plantois narrowly.
It was a very short note that she read, and Nick saw that it contained a bill.
"He has gone for good," she said, looking up.
"Git out! is that so?"
"Yes. Hasn't he told you?"
"No."
"Well, he has paid his bill and gone."
"Whar to?"
"He does not say."
"Whar ye goin' tew send his letters?"
"He says that he will call for them."
"Oh, say!"
"Well?"
"It's kinder funny that he knew I wuz comin', ain't it?"
"Yes."
"An' didn't say nothin' 'bout whar I cud find him, either."
"Yes."
"A feller would think he didn't wanter see his Uncle Josh, hey?"
"It does look so."
"Jest es though he wanted to keep away from me, hey?"
"I am afraid so."
"So'm I; say!"
"Well?"
"The boy's in trouble o' some kind."
"Oh, I hope not!"
"He is; say!"
"Well?"
"I kim down here purpose to help him, I know'd all about his fix."
"It is too bad that he has gone."
"It be, by Jupiter. Say!"
"Well?"
"Did he look kinder queer lately?"
"Yes—very."
"Pale-like, hey?"
"Positively white."
"Didn't say much, did he?"
"Almost nothing."
"How long's that been goin' on?"
"About two weeks."
"Wal, I'll tell yew a secret."
"Do."
"He got into trouble 'bout two weeks ago."
"I am sorry."
"I know'd you'd be. Yew see, he signed another man's name to a check."
"Forgery!"
"Wal, yes; that's wot they call it in court. I think 'twar jest furgitfulness."
"It is too bad."
"Wal, one thing's lucky."
"What is that?"
"It was my name that he signed."
"Oh!"
"An' I jest kim up to tell him that I'd furgive an' furgit, ef he wouldn't do it ag'in, an' I brought a few dollars along with me tew guv him for tryin' tew be good in the fewtoor."
"You are a good man."
"Wal, he's a good boy, ef he warn't so cussed—beg yewer parding, da—I mean tew say blamed furgitful sometimes. I love that boy, Miss Planter, an' I want yew tew do me a favor."
"What is it?"
"Mebby he'll come back."
"I'm afraid not."
"Or send fur his letters, 'r suthin."
"It may be."
"I think mebby he will."
"Well, if he does I will tell him that you want to see—"
"Gosh, no!"
"Eh?"
"Bless yer heart, Miss Planter, the boy'd light out fur furrin' parts afore yew cud ketch yew'er breath."
"Ah!"
"Don't ye tell him nothin' of the kind."
"No."
"No. Ef he axes 'bout the letter he left fur me, tell him yew don't know nothin' 'bout it."
"Well?"
"Jest find out whar he is, ef yew kin and write tew me, will yew?"
"Certainly."
"Thanky; I'll jest write my address on t'other side of yewer letter."
"There!" he said, when it was done. "I wanter find that boy jest to save him from committin' any more o' them acts of furgitfulness, an', ef yew kin help me, I hope yew will."
"I certainly will."
"Thanky. He was here last night, wasn't he?"
"I think so. I saw him about eight, but he may have gone out again right away."
"That's so. Wal, good-mornin', Miss Planter."
Nick was soon again in the street.
"Foxy, awfully foxy, Zel," he muttered.
He knew that in some way Zel had learned that her grave had been visited, and that Nick Carter knew she was alive.
The letter which he had not yet read, would doubtless tell him all, but he preferred not to read it until he was back again in his office in Liberty street, where the sign, "T. Bolt, Detective," was over the door.
Once there, he spread the document open before him.
The communication was, in every respect, characteristic of Zelma, and we will give it in full.
"My esteemed though diminutive Goliath:—
"Again we are in the arena, and this time you will be overcome. Heretofore I have worked slowly. Hereafter, my efforts against you shall be both swift and sure.
"I shall strike at once, and where you least expect it. You shall feel the force of my hatred ere you have grasped the contents of this letter.
"I thought to work in the dark and secretly, believing that you thought me truly dead.
"An accident took me to the cemetery where you were, with your friends, peering into the coffin, where, for thirty days, I rested.
"How you discovered the cheat I do not know, but I do know that the address of Roger Merridale will be ascertained, and that you will be shrewd enough to guess at once where I will be. Therefore I abandon this disguise at once.
"You are shrewd, Nick. If you weren't so honest—such a fool, in fact, with all of your smartness-how I could love you. You are the only man that I ever saw, except Dr. Quartz, that was worthy of me. He grew old, and you are honest! A-great mistake! Knowing that you would despise my love, I hate you. But for you, I would now be enjoying the fortune of Clarita Downing; for that I also hate you, to say nothing of the other causes I have, for the same feeling.
"I hate you! I hate your wife! I hate Chick! I hate Patsy! I hated Bertha Mortimer, whom Chick was to marry, and you may tell him that her death was due more to me than to natural causes! I hate Clarita Downing! and I hate a few others.
"All whom I hate shall die!
"You know me. You know that I mean what I say.
"The great detective is warned as well as defied!
"I know one other Hindu secret which shall accomplish all that I seek. Beware of it! Beware of me! Mockingly yours,
"Zel."
SUCH was the manner in which the great detective was defied by Zelma, the female fiend, and the position was by no means an enviable one, in which to find himself placed.
Zelma was a woman, who seemed to be more than human in her propensities for evil.
She had first been brought to the detective's notice in his pursuit of Dr. Quartz, when that polished gentleman had finally met his fate. Those who have read "The Fate ef Dr. Quartz" will remember how she endeavored to put out the detective's eyes with vitriol.
Again, in espousing the cause of Clarita Downing in the search for "Package 17—A," she had demonstrated her keenness and shrewdness, and had committed, without remorse, the most revolting murders, finally escaping from the detective's clutches by taking poison and dying—as he supposed—in his presence.
But Nick was fully aware of her astuteness in the use of drugs, and he had caused a watch to be placed over her body, as well as over the grave wherein she was buried.
That had been kept up for a week, and then abandoned; and lo! at the expiration of thirty days she had arisen as from the dead, slain her rescuer, and gone forth again for the commission of new and greater crimes, and with the avowed intention of murdering Nick Carter, and his entire family.
For himself, the Little Giant knew no fear; but for those who were near and dear to him there was cause for anxiety.
He could not tell where Zel would strike first, nor whom she would select for her first victim.
He placed the letter in his pocket, and went home.
Patsy met him at the door, and there was an expression of joy in his eyes, which Nick could not help remarking.
"What's the matter, Patsy!" he asked.
"Sure I'm so glad that yer not hurt, after all, Master," was Patsy's reply.
"Not hurt! what do you mean?"
"The message said that you had been pizened, but that you wouldn't die."
"What message?"
"The message that came about two hours ago."
"Who brought it!"
"A cop."
"What was it?"
"The message?"
"Yes."
"Sure the cop said that ye'd been pizened by a woman, an' they were afraid ye might die. He said that ye'd sent for your wife, an' he was to take her right there."
"Where?"
"To the station-house."
"Did she go?"
"No."
"Thank God!"
"She was goin', but jest as she was lavin' the house, Mister Chick came in."
"Just in time."
"Yes."
"Well? go on."
"Mister Chick said he'd go, an' Mrs. Carter was bound to go with him."
"Well?"
"He wouldn't hear of it."
"Good for Chick."
"He said if you needed her, he'd send for her right away. She was satisfied with that, an' so she let him go alone."
"Good! Now, I will go to her."
"Why, sir, she hasn't come back yet."
"Hasn't come back yet!"
"No, sir."
"Where has she gone?"
"Why, to see you."
"To see me! Didn't you just say that she agreed not to go until Chick sent for her?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well; then what do—"
"He did send for her."
"What!"
"He did send for her."
"When?"
"About an hour ago."
"Who came, then? Speak quick, now, Patsy."
"The cop."
"The same one?"
"Yes."
"Do you know him?"
"No."
"What was he?"
"A roundsman."
"What did he say when he came back?"
"Nothing."
"Well, what then?"
"He brought a note."
"From Chick."
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see it?"
"I've got it now."
"Let me have it."
"Here it is."
Nick seized the piece of paper, and read:
"Ethel:—Come at once. I have sent a carriage. Nick is worse. Chick."
For once in his life Nick was thoroughly astounded.
"Did you see the carriage, Patsy?"
"Yes, sir. the cop came in."
"What was it?"
"A coupe."
"A private one?"
"Yes, sir."
"You did not think that there was anything wrong?"
"No, sir. I thought—"
"Yes. I know. Chick left two hours ago?"
"About that—yes, sir."
"And my wife an hour ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"And where did she think she was to be taken?"
"To the station-house in Thirtieth street."
"That is where Chick went?"
"That is where he meant to go."
"Did he go in a carriage?"
"No, sir."
"Wasn't the carriage there, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he wouldn't take it?"
"No, sir. He started off afoot, on a run."
"And the coupe? did that start off also?"
"Yes, sir; right away."
"Did it follow Chick?"
"No, sir. It went the other way."
"Did you notice the policeman's number?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good! What was it?"
"5420."
"You would know him again?"
"You bet."
"Take my card. Run to the station-house in Thirtieth street. Tell Captain Reilly that you want to see No. 5420, at once, and that it will be a favor to me, if he will let him return here with you."
"Yes, sir."
"Run!"
"You bet."
The boy was off like a shot, and Nick sat down to think.
To act hastily in a crisis like that with which he was now brought face to face, he knew would be worse than useless.
He must go slow and sure.
That the enticing of Ethel from her home was the work of Zel, he did not doubt.
Indeed, had she not warned him that she would begin to make her talons felt almost before he had mastered the contents of her letter of defiance to him?
She had kept her word, and she had played the game with the most consummate skill.
Ethel was a true detective's wife, and could not have been enticed from her home by any ordinary means.
Yet, when the messenger was an officer who claimed to be attached to the Nineteenth Precinct, and a member of Captain Reilly's command, she had felt that there could be but little doubt of the authenticity of the message that he had brought.
Chick had, however, arrived in time to prevent her from going with the bogus policeman, for bogus he was. Of that there was no doubt.
At that point arose the greatest puzzle of all.
How had Zel managed to keep Chick from returning?
The note, purporting to have been written by him, was a very clever forgery. So clever, indeed, that Ethel was doubtless deceived.
The schemers had permitted an hour to pass between the time when Chick departed, and that which brought their messenger back again, with the note that was supposed to come from him.
Ethel was gone, and was doubtless in Zel's power for the second time in her life.
It was a horrible thought, and yet, for the moment, there was absolutely nothing for Nick to do but wait.
To rush aimlessly about the streets could do no good. No one knew that better than Nick.
He must wait and think.
"I cannot believe that she has managed to get Chick into her power in broad daylight," muttered the Little Giant. "In some way, he has been led off on a false scent, while the rest of the plan was working, and therefore he will return before long. There is nothing for me to do now but wait."
Wait he did.
By and by Patsy came, accompanied by the officer, No. 5420.
"Sit down, Dan," said Nick, who recognized the policeman. "I will be with you in a minute."
Then motioning to Patsy to follow him, he went into the back room.
"Well, Pat?" he said.
"'Tain't him, sir."
"I thought not."
"This is Dan Murphy."
"Yes."
"I've know'd him ever since I was a kid."
"He couldn't fool you if he tried could he?"
"Not much."
"Good!"
Nick returned to the parlor.
"Dan, where were you two hours and a half ago?" he asked.
"At home, sir."
"Where do you live?"
"In Twenty-fourth street."
"Have you lost anything to-day?"
"Yes, sir; my helmet."
"When and how?"
"I was asleep."
"Yes."
"A feller came to the house, and told my wife that he had come for my helmet.
"'What helmet?' said she.
"'The one he wanted me to clean.'
"'He's asleep,' said my wife.
"'That's all right,' said the feller; 'Dan wanted me to take the thing and clean it while he was snoozing. It's the one he wore home to-day.'
"Well, my wife went and got the hat, and let him take it, and the cuss forgot to bring it back."
"Had you told anybody that you wanted it cleaned?"
"Yes, that's the funny part of it."
"How so?"
"When I woke up my wife told me about it. I had asked Jimmy Turton, several days ago, to clean it some day, and I supposed he'd sent for it."
"Well?"
"I went to Jimmy's and he hadn't sent for the helmet, and knew nothing about it."
"So you're a hat out."
"That's about the size of it."
"Could your wife describe the man who came for it?"
"That's another funny point."
"Why?"
"She swears it was Jimmy."
"Oh, she does, eh?"
"Yes."
"And what do you think?"
"Well, I've known Jimmy for ten years. He says he don't know anything about it, and I believe him."
"Then you think your wife was deceived?"
"I do."
"Probably she was deceived, Dan, and yet it will do no harm for you to find out for certain."
"Of course."
"I want to find the man who wore your hat to-day."
"So do I."
"Well, if you do find him, don't make a move until you see me, will you?"
"No, sir."
"Thanks."
The officer left, and Nick immediately began preparations to go out also.
He had resolved not to wait any longer for Chick.
He was in the midst of his work of adopting a disguise, when he heard the front-door open.
He knew instantly that it was Chick.
With one bound he reached the stairs, and beheld his young assistant laboriously mounting the steps.
"What's the matter, Chick?" he exclaimed.
"Thumped," replied Chick.
"When?"
"Soon after I went out."
"Where?"
"On the head."
"No—I mean—"
"Oh! Corner Thirtieth street and Sixth avenue."
"Who hit you?"
"A nigger, they said."
"Who said?"
"The duffers standing around who saw him do it and then let 'im escape."
"He did escape?"
"Clean."
"He hit you hard, eh?"
"Laid me out till just now. I was taken to the hospital. I think the coon meant to settle me."
"No doubt of it."
"Well, Ethel's all right, anyhow. I thought it might be a lay for her, and so I wouldn't let her go out."
"She went, though."
"What!"
"They sent for her again."
"Again!"
"Yes."
"After they slugged me?"
"Yes."
"Whew!"
"Somebody wrote a note to her and forged your name. She thought it was all right, and went."
"Then she is gone."
"She is."
"And in Zel's power."
"Nobody else would dare to try such a game."
"That's so."
"I'm going out now."
"Where?"
"To see a hatter."
"Eh?"
"A hatter named Turton."
"I know I'm rather dazed, Nick, but confound it—"
"Exactly. Somebody stole Dan Murphy's helmet. He had asked a hatter named Turton to clean it. Dan's wife thinks Turton was the man who called for it. I'm going to see him."
"Oh!"
Nick was about to speak again when the door-bell rang.
Patsy darted to the door, and opened it.
A bootblack, box and all, dirty and ingenuous-looking, stood upon the threshold.
"'Ere's a letter," he said.
Patsy took the letter; also the boy. He brought them both inside of the door, and closed it.
Then, telling the boy to wait, he handed the letter to Nick.
The detective opened it.
He knew instinctively what it contained, or rather who it was from.
Opening it, he read:
"NICK CARTER:—Your wife is in my power. I may be induced to spare her. It depends upon you. She is now unconscious, under the influence of one of my potent drugs, which, however, will do her no harm, if the proper antidote is applied at the right time. You can say whether she is to live or die. The best physician in this city could not save her if I delivered her into your hands now, just as she is. He would pronounce her dead; but she is not.
"I have a proposition to make to you. I know that you are celebrated for keeping your word. I am troubled with the same affliction. "Meet me to-night, under the memorial arch in Washington Park at eleven o'clock. Come unarmed, and be prepared to accompany me wherever I may choose to take you. I will then make terms with you for the deliverance of your wife.
"If you bring others with you, I will not be seen. If you seek to arrest me, or to injure me, your wife will die. Nothing human can save her. If you kill me while she is in her present condition, she will not live. You know me!
"I will accept your appearance at the spot named, and alone, as a promise that you will comply with my conditions. If you break them, you know the consequences.
"For my part, I promise that you shall not be injured in any way, and that when our conference is over, you may return to your own home as well as you now are.
"It may be that you can save the life of your wife, but I will not tell you how, until to-night.
"Remember, she is already beyond your aid, even though she were at this moment in her own room at your home.
"You know me! Zel."
When Nick looked up from the reading of Zel's letter, his face had the set, fierce look of one who had decided a momentous question which is fraught with great danger.
"Boy," he said, "where did you get this letter?"
"On de corner, Boss."
"Who gave it to you?'
"A woman, Boss."
"What did she say to you?"
"Tole me ter brung it here, an' guv me a shiner."
"A dime?"
"Yep. She said you'd guv me anoder one."
"I will. Did she want an answer?"
"Nope."
"Did she go away when she gave you the letter?"
"Nope."
"What did she do?"
"Watched me till I rung de bell."
"And then?"
"Well, den, I don't know, see? Cos de bloke here wot uster be shinin' fur a-livin' as well as me, yanked me t'rough de door so quick dat I couldn't tell wot she done see?"
"Here's your dime. You may go now."
"T'anks."
"Chick," said the detective when the boy had gone, "read that."
Chick did so.
Then he looked up.
"Are you going?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"It's the only way."
"Perhaps not."
"Zel has told the truth."
"The truth isn't one of her many accomplishments."
"I believe that she has told the truth."
"And you have decided to go?"
"I have."
"She has sworn to kill you."
"I know it."
"And Ethel, and Patsy, and me."
"Yes."
"This is only a snare to get you into her power with Ethel."
"I believe that."
"And yet you will go?"
"And yet I will go."
"You need take me?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because, then, I could not accomplish my purpose."
"What is that?"
"I have one; that is enough. I am going, and, mark my words, this female fiend will rue the day that she sent for me."
"You will accept her conditions?"
"Up to a certain point, yes."
"And after that—"
"Circumstances must decide."
"What shall I do?"
"Nothing."
"That is hard work."
"I know it; wait!"
"Well?"
"Dress yourself as an old bummer."
"Go through the scuttle to the roof of the house."
"Correct."
"Go over the roofs to the corner and manage to get down to the street through Finnigan's saloon."
"Yes."
"Do it without being seen, if you can. Then go to the park, where she wants me to meet her."
"All right."
"You will get there an hour before dark."
"Yes."
"Pick out a bench near the arch."
"Ah!"
"Don't leave it. Stay there and watch. See everything. Notice the most trivial details, but do nothing but notice."
"Yes."
"I will be there at eleven."
"Will you go unarmed?"
"Except for the barkers up my sleeves. I will have those."
"Correct."
"When I leave the arch with her, follow."
"Yes."
"But do not keep us in sight."
"Eh?"
"I will have a pocket full of rice, which I will soak before I start out. It will make no noise as I drop it on the pavement, and the wind will not scatter it. Follow the rice, not me."
"Good! Good!"
"Somebody else will follow us and will be looking for you, or for any person whom I may have put on the scent to dog us."
"I see."
"Zel is cute; she is shrewd; she would not make this appointment with me, without taking every precaution to avoid being trapped. She knows that she can expect no mercy when she falls into my hands again."
"Exactly."
"Your work is to find out what those precautions are, and who it is that is in her confidence. Wherever the rice leads you, follow."
"Well, rather!"
"When you reach the place where you are satisfied that I am, wait where you can hear my signal, if I call for you."
"And the signal will be what?"
"Two pistol-shots in quick succession. I can use the barkers for that if I have need to do so."
"Correct!"
"If I signal, I will want you quick."
"I will come."
"Do nothing—absolutely nothing, unless you get the signal."
"I will obey."
"Now, Chick, this is the most serious expedition of our lives. More depends upon it, than upon anything that we ever undertook. Ethel's life is at stake, and I may lose mine in the work before me to-night; but that work must be done.
"Chick, if I go under, if this she-devil should get the best of me, I leave it all in your hands.
"Good-by, boy, and God bless you!
"Go, now. Remember my instructions. Obey them to the letter, and, if we never meet again in life, well, God bless you, Chick. Now go."
And Chick, without a word, but with a suspicious moisture in his eyes, went.
THE disguise which Nick Carter chose for the strange expedition in which he was to meet Zel was that of the countryman detective, Old Thunderbolt.
He did not don it for the purpose of remaining unknown, for that make-up was as familiar to the wily Zel as an every-day companion could be.
He used it simply because it was his favorite disguise, and because among the capacious pockets of that huge coat, he could conceal more paraphernalia for quick changes than in any other costume in his possession.
Circumstances might arise which would force him to work one or more of his marvelously quick and impenetrable changes, and he went prepared.
At a quarter before eleven he was at the arch.
There was nobody in sight, except an old bummer, who was asleep upon an adjacent bench.
The bummer was, of course, Chick.
But Nick was not deceived by the fact that there was nobody else in sight.
He knew perfectly well that Zel would not permit the spot to remain unguarded, or allow him to approach it without being carefully observed, and he did not doubt that he had been followed from the moment that he left his house.
He could, of course, have ascertained the fact to a certainty, had he chosen to take precautions to do so when he started out.
But he did not care whether he was followed or not.
If he was not followed and watched, all right.
If he was, he preferred to so conduct himself, that whoever followed would be satisfied by appearances that he had taken Zel at her word and was willing to put her to the test.
Chick, being so early upon the scene, would not be noticed, and his six hours near the arch, in the character of the bummer, would give him immunity from espionage.
In one of the pockets of Nick's coat was a rubber bag, and in it were several quarts of rice that had been thoroughly soaked.
He could scatter the rice as he walked, by the simple act of pressing his elbow to his side from time to time.
It required but a very little to afford Chick the means of following the trail, and he was not obliged to use enough to attract the attention of others.
At eleven o'clock, precisely, the figure of a woman approached him from Fifth avenue, and he knew by the graceful carriage, and the quick, panther-like tread, that it belonged to Zel.
She came directly to the arch, and when within twenty feet of the detective, she stopped.
"You are here, Nick Carter," she said.
"Yes," replied Nick; "I am here."
"Are you not afraid?"
"Afraid of what?"
"Of me."
"No."
"You feel no fear?"
"None."
"Not for yourself, perhaps; but for others, you fear."
"I do not fear you, Zel."
"Are you armed?"
"My pockets are as devoid of weapons as that arch."
"That is an evasion."
"Perhaps it is."
"Are you armed?"
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"So am I."
"That is not in accordance with the conditions."
"Yet I am here to do as you say, up to a certain point."
"Why did you bring weapons?"
'To use, if necessary."
"Fool!"
"Why?"
"Did I not tell you that if you disobeyed me, your wife should die?"
"Yes."
"What if I leave you now?"
"You cannot."
"Cannot! why?"
"I would kill you before you had taken a step."
"Fool again!"
"Again, why?"
"In killing me, you would kill your wife."
"But I would also kill you, Zel."
"Ethel will die, without my active effort in her behalf; nobody else can save her."
"I believe that. I know you well enough to believe that."
"Then why would you kill me, if I sought to leave?"
"Need you ask?"
"Yes."
"Very well; it is simply because I do believe you."
"Why did you come here armed?"
"Because I wished to do so."
"Will you deliver your weapons to me, now?"
"No."
"Then I will not make terms with you."
"In that case you will cease to live."
"Do you defy me, Nick Carter?"
"No; I simply make a statement."
"You committed yourself to my terms in coming here."
"I committed myself to nothing."
"Very well, our conference is at an end?"
"Do you mean that, Zel?"
Nick's voice was calm when he asked the question, but it was that sort of calmness which precedes a storm.
Zel felt it, evidently.
She hesitated.
"Wait," she said. "Will you make me a promise now?"
"What is it?"
"That you will not use your weapons?"
"I will not use them unless driven to do so."
"By what means?"
"By any effort on your part to break the agreement which your letter made with me."
"Do you mean that?"
"Yes, with one farther qualification."
"Name it."
"Unless I deem their use necessary to save the life of my wife."
"They will not avail you in that way."
"Then I will not use them."
"Do you mean that?"
"I certainly do."
"Did any one come here with you?"
"No."
"Were you followed?" "Not unless at your instigation."
"Is not Chick in this thing?"
"You know that Chick was sent to the hospital with a broken head."
"Yes, I know it."
"Then why ask?"
"I cannot believe that you would come to this tryst alone."
"I assure you that I did."
"By lifting my hand, I could kill you, Nick Carter."
"Then why not do it?"
"I am not ready, yet."
"No?"
"No."
"Waiting may work your own downfall, Zel."
"Bah!"
"Come, we waste time. You were to take me somewhere."
"Yes."
"Where?"
"To the house where Ethel is."
"Let us start."
"You must first make me another promise."
"Name it."
"That you will not seek to touch her in any way without my permission."
"I promise, with the same reservations I made in regard to my weapons."
"It is sufficient."
"Then let us go."
"Come."
They started away across the park toward South Fifth avenue.
The bummer was fast asleep on the bench.
His head hung far over on one shoulder, and just a suspicion of a snore escaped him.
It was not a sound that could be heard more than three feet away, and yet he certainly snored.
When Nick and Zel moved away the bummer continued to snore in the same comfortable monotone.
He did not raise his head, or pay any heed to what was passing around him.
His position was such that his eyes could by no possibility watch the direction that the pair took.
When they had crossed the park and passed out of sight, he still sat there as immovable as ever.
Five minutes passed, and he did not move.
Then a figure stole from beneath a stoop, across the street from that side of the park.
It glided forward, and presently walked boldly toward the bummer, and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Go ter blazes!" muttered the bummer, without looking up.
Again the man slapped him on the shoulders, more soundly than before.
"I shay, coppie, can't yer let a feller shleep, hey?" demanded the bummer.
"I'm not a cop," said the man.
"Then who the devil are you, hey? an' watcher mean by disturbin' a gent from his slumbers at this yere time o' night, hey?"
"I want to ask you a question."
"Go ter blazes!" and the bummer composed himself for another nap.
"I'm lost," continued the man.
"Go ter blazes!"
"I want to find Bleecker street."
"Go ter blazes!"
"I'll give you a dime, if you'll—"
"What's that!" cried the bummer, springing to his feet as suddenly as though impelled by an electric shock.
"Watcher say, Boss?"
"I said that i would give—"
"Yes—yes. Pay in advance?"
"Certainly. Here's your dime."
"Wanter go ter Bleecker street?"
"Yes."
"Cross the park, see? first street you come ter, see? That's Bleecker, see? Good-night."
"Where are you going?"
"Fur a drink. Good-night."
The bummer hurried away, while the stranger watched him earnestly as far as he could see him.
"No fear of that fellow," he muttered, presently.
"I didn't think there was, but it is well enough to be on the safe side."
Then he turned away and went in the direction that Nick and Zel had taken, walking rapidly.
The bummer did not go far.
From behind a convenient corner he saw the man who had accosted him, turn away.
Then he began to work.
In five minutes he was a perfect specimen of a young Frenchman such as frequent that quarter of the city around South Fifth avenue.
Then he started across the park walking just unsteadily enough to give an observer the idea that he had drank a trifle too much, but was perfectly able to take care of himself.
He passed through the arch and along the path the Nick had taken with Zel. Every once in a while he dropped the cane that he carried.
When he stooped to pick it up, it was with a low chuckle of satisfaction.
But the reader knows that the gratification was caused more by finding grains of rice than by the recovery of the cane.
ZEL led Nick across the park and down South Fifth avenue past Bleecker street.
Presently they paused before a house which was dark, and seemingly deserted.
"We enter here," said Zel.
"I am ready," replied Nick.
"Ethel is in this house."
"Take me to her."
"In good time, I must talk with you first. Come!"
They entered by the basement-way, passing through a dark hall-way, which, however, Nick immediately illumined with his bull's-eye lantern, which he had not forgotten to bring.
Zel started when the light flashed along the narrow corridor, but she said nothing.
Then they ascended the stairs to the next floor, and a entered the room which had doubtless once been called the back-parlor.
Zel lighted the gas, and motioned to Nick to be seated.
"Nick Carter," she said, after she had lighted a cigarette, "do you know why I have brought you here?"
"I do not."
"Nor why I have proposed to make terms with you?"
"I do not."
"You know that I have sworn to kill you."
"Yes."
"And all who are connected with you?"
"Yes."
"You believe that I will keep my oath?"
"If you can—yes."
"I can."
"That remains to be determined."
"It does."
"Proceed."
"I wished this talk with you."
"Yes."
"And was willing to declare a truce, to which I will adhere, long enough to carry out my wishes."
"Well?"
"I am willing to compromise with you."
"Indeed!"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
"You will think it a strange way."
"Perhaps so."
"I am willing to spare Ethel Carter, Chick, Patsy, and all against whom I have sworn vengeance."
"Indeed! There is hope for you, then."
"Yes, if you will help me. I am willing to forswear my wicked ways, and from this moment to become a good woman."
"I fear it is too late for that, Zel."
"No—it is never too late to mend."
"Go on, please."
"By a simple act, you can save all against whom I have sworn vengeance, and at the same moment, nay, in the same breath, you can transform me from a devil, or, as you have often called me—a fiend—to a good woman."
"I cannot comprehend what you mean, Zel."
"Answer me, Nick Carter; am I beautiful?"
"You are."
"How beautiful?"
"If the wickedness in your heart were not reflected in your face, you would be the most beautiful woman I ever saw."
"Even more beautiful than Clarita Downing?"
"Yes."
"Do you not love beauty?"
"I admire it."
"If the wickedness were eradicated from my heart, I would be your ideal of beauty?"
"Of mere beauty, yes."
"If you were free—if you had never loved, could you then love me, Nick Carter?"
"No."
The word was decisive, and the woman gasped and turned pale.
"Not even then?" she murmured.
"No; not even then."
"Nick Carter, with all my sins, I am but thirty years old. I have been loved by many, but I never saw the man for whose love I cared, until I saw you. I knew that my passion was hopeless and I sought to kill you in order to forget you. I have brought you here now, to make terms."
"I will listen."
"You will listen. You grant that much!"
"Yes; there can be no harm in that."
"You love your wife?"
"Certainly."
"You wish to save her?"
"Certainly."
"And to do so you would make almost any sacrifice?"
"Yes."
"Would you sacrifice your love?"
"I do not understand."
"Would you desert her?"
"Would I desert her?"
"Yes, for one year only. Tell her anything you please. Be mine for one year. At the end of that time, I will release you, and you may return. Just for one year—only one year. Then I will die. I will take one of my own poisons and you will be free and forever rid of Zel."
She started to her feet, and then sank upon her knees before him.
She was almost crazed with excitement, while Nick sat before her, as cold as a stone, as immovable as a statue, a stoic.
"Oh, my God, what happiness!" she cried. "Wait! let me finish. Let me paint the picture in my own way."
"I am waiting."
Nick's voice was calm and cold, and gave her no promise, but she did not seem to notice it.
"Listen!" she cried. "You need not love me; I do not ask you to love me; I know that you never will—that you cannot.
"But pretend! pretend that you do love me, for just one year! I will allow myself to be deceived, I will teach myself to believe that you do love me—that you are mine and mine alone.
"Ethel will be saved. She will return to your house. She will wait there for you in ignorance of the compact that you have made with me to save her life.
"She will never know of your unfaithfulness, and at the end of a year you can return to her, and be happy in your own way, after having shown me a glimpse of heaven; the only glimpse that I will ever get.
"She will never know. Nobody but you and I will know, and when, at the end of a year, you return to her, I will be dead—yes, really and truly dead, and the secret will remain with you alone."
She bent forward still farther and sought to grasp him by the hands, but he avoided her.
"Listen," she whispered, intensely, "you do not believe that I will, indeed, die. I will take the poison in your presence, and when I am dead, you shall stab me to the heart with a dagger. Then you will know that I am dead.
"We will go away—far away, for that one year. We will go to India. I will teach you the mysteries in which I am learned, and together we will master new and greater ones.
"You can make any excuse that you will, for your absence; you can even write home to your wife as often as you please, but you must never mention her name to me; never let me see that which alas, I know, that you do not love me.
"I will deceive myself. You shall be my king—my god! and if, after the expiration of that one year, I go to perdition, I will not care, for I will have known happiness—I will have had one year of joy.
"Oh, Nick, do you not see how I worship you, since I am willing to accept a hollow pretense for the reality? that I am willing to force myself to believe that you love me, when I know that you do not and will not?
"Give me your word that you will do this; promise me that you agree to all that I say, and I will take you into the room where Ethel is now lying, to all appearance a corpse, and you shall administer the potion, which, in five minutes, will restore her to life and vitality, as perfect as that which she enjoyed when you saw her last.
"Refuse, and as I live now, as surely as you sit there, stoical and immovable, she shall die, nor can all the science in the world save her, for the drug, under whose influences she now lies, is known only to myself.
"No one lives, not even in India, who could bring her back to life without my aid.
"If you should bind me hand and foot, here and now; if you should singe me with hot irons, pull my hairs out one by one, draw my teeth, tattoo my flesh with nitric acid, and torture me with every manner of inconceivable agony, I would not change my determination. I would let her die, for I would know that in so doing I would get all the revenge I seek, and that to the torture which your heart would endure, the agony to my flesh would be as nothing.
"It is not much that I ask, Nick. Only for one year. Be mine, my very own, for that length of time, then go back to her and be happy.
"Will you consent to this? You have said that you would sacrifice almost anything to save Ethel. I ask you to sacrifice one year of your life, to give it up to me.
"Think well before you reply. I will keep my word in every detail, neither will I alter my determination in one iota."
She rose, and stood before him, pale and pleading. But Nick did not move—neither did the expression of his face alter in the least.
"Come! what say you?" asked Zel.
"Where is Ethel, now?" he inquired.
"In there."
"Take me to her."
"For what purpose?"
"That I may read my answer to your demands from her face."
"It is expressionless."
"To you, perhaps; not to me."
"I will take you to her."
"Do."
"You will answer, then?"
"Yes."
"You will consent, Nick Carter. The sight of her will force you to do so. Come!"
She led the way into the adjoining room.
There, upon a couch, was Ethel, and whoever looked upon her would have pronounced her a corpse.
Corpse-like, she was.
Her flesh was cold, and her features were pale and set, like the features of one who is dead.
Looking upon her, Nick felt the ice at his heart. Never had he been so near mad as then.
But he was strangely calm as he turned to Zel, and said, coldly:
"My answer to you is No."
ZEL did not start, as she might have been expected to do, when Nick uttered the word "No."
She only smiled as she murmured:
"Wait; do not be hasty."
"I have decided."
"You will not consent?"
"No."
"Is that the answer that you read in her face?"
"Yes."
"Where do you see it?"
"In the purity of her features; in the soul that shines through her eyes, even though they are closed.
"Zel, with all your faults, you are a woman; with all your sins you know what purity is. You say that you love me."
"Ay, to madness."
"I believe you; I cannot do otherwise."
"Thank you for that much."
"Put yourself in Ethel's place and herself in yours. Transpose identities with her for a moment. Imagine yourself lying there, conscious of all that is taking place by your side. Imagine yourself my wife.
"Picture in your mind another woman standing here with me as you are, now. Would you have me, your husband whom you love, consent to the inhuman proposal that has been made to me, even to save your life? Would you, Zel?"
"Oh, no—no—no—no! Oh, Heaven, no! a thousand times no!"
"Then have you not answered yourself? Could I ever look upon her face again, if I consented to what you ask? I might gain my own selfish ends, and try to be happy at the expiration of that year of which you speak, but I hold her happiness so far above my own that I have not even considered your proposal for one moment, even though I appeared to do so.
"My answer is No!"
"Is that final?"
"It is final."
"You know that you will be her murderer?"
"Argument cannot move me, Zel."
"You scorn me?"
"Well, yes; frankly, I do."
"You despise me?"
"As I would a viper. These are harsh words, but I say them coolly."
"Ethel shall die."
"It may be."
"It will be!"
"She will not die alone."
"Ah, you threaten me!"
"Yes."
Zel laughed.
It was the same reckless laugh that he had heard so often.
His words had brought her back to herself; the fiend was again asserting itself.
"I do not fear your threats," she said.
"I would not have you fear them."
"Why?"
"It would make my work harder to perform."
"Your work!"
"Yes."
"What work?"
"Zel, I am going to take you at your word."
"What do you mean?"
"I am going to torture you. I am going to forget that I am a man and become your equal, a fiend. I am going to pull your hairs out one by one until you are bald. Then I will heat the blade of my knife in the gas-flame and brand the word 'fiend,' upon your forehead, upon each cheek."
She tried to laugh, but failed.
"Then," he continued, "I will again heat my knife-blade, and, with it, I will destroy the sight in your beautiful eyes.
"I will search you, to see that you have no poisons with which to take your own life, and then, branded, bald, blind, and helpless, I will turn you into the street, until you meet your death in some natural way. Do you like the prospect, Zel?"
"And you—you will do this?" she cried.
"Yes, I will do this."
"You! Nick Carter!"
"You forget, Zel; Nick Carter is dead, and a fiend is born in his place. A fiend who will torture you until you faint from agony, and will then revive you for further torture."
"Fool!" she cried. "Do you think that I will live to let you torture me thus?"
"You cannot die. If you so much as lift one hand to take a poison, if you move, in any way, seeking to avoid me, I will put a bullet through your hand, or shoot the vial from your fingers."
She laughed scornfully.
"You do not think that I could do it, perhaps," he said.
"I will prove my words, Zel."
"Prove them?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You wear ear-drops, and each one is a bulb. Each bulb contains a poison, no doubt. I will deprive you of them. Thus!"
Both arms straightened out.
Two reports followed each other in rapid succession, and the bulbs were shot away from Zel's ears as accurately as though picked off with fingers.
Nick's hands sank again to his sides, and no weapons were visible.
Zel started back with a cry of terror.
But she was unhurt, and she quickly recovered.
She started to raise her hands, but Nick spoke again.
"Do not lift your hands," he said, coldly, "or I will pierce them with bullets. This is a tragedy, Zel, not a farce."
The two shots were the signals agreed upon with Chick.
The detective knew that in another moment Chick would be there.
He hoped that he would come silently, and he did.
The door by which they had entered from the adjoining room was ajar.
Chick, who had long before gained admittance to the house, and who had heard much that had been said, was close at hand.
A moment after the reports had died away, he appeared in the open door-way.
"You said once that you would haunt me, Zel." said Nick. "If I were dead, I would haunt you now. I would steal upon you from behind with the stealthiness of a specter and I would seize your arms and hold them motionless. Do you understand?"
"No."
"Do you now?"
As he uttered the last words, Chick seized her.
She struggled and screamed, but in the powerful grasp of Chick she could not move.
"Zel," said Nick, "for once you are powerless. For once you are where you cannot escape, and you do not know what holds you. I shall put bracelets upon your wrists and upon your ankles, and then we will proceed with the torture."
She was quickly handcuffed as he said, and then Nick seated her in a chair and fastened her there.
Then she saw Chick.
"Fool that I was!" she exclaimed. "I might have known."
"Yes, Zel, you might have known that you could drive even Nick Carter too far," said Chick. "Your servant who was to watch the house while you were here, is in the hall down stairs, but he is bound and gagged, so you need not worry about him. You are at our mercy, Zel."
"Yes, Zel," said Nick, "you are at the mercy of the man you love."
"Do you not wish to make terms, Nick Carter?"
"Terms? No. Why should I?"
"Would you save Ethel?"
"If I could, yes."
"Then why do you not seek to do so?"
"How?"
"By making terms with me."
"You have already said that you would not save her."
"I was not then in your power."
"To be sure. I forgot that. Will you give her the potion that will restore her?"
"I may."
"Will you?"
"If you will permit me to go, and will give me forty-eight hours in which to escape, yes."
"Ah, you are not so brave as you would have made me think!"
"No."
"This is your own proposal, is it not?"
"Yes."
"I refuse."
"Refuse!"
"Yes."
"You decline to save your wife."
"I do not believe that she can be saved. I believe her to be dead and beyond even your hellish power. We will proceed with the torture. Take down Zel's hair, Chick."
"Mercy!" cried Zel.
"Why mercy?" asked Nick.
"I can save Ethel, and I will."
"Save her, then."
"If you will let me, I will."
"I will give you an opportunity."
"Will you consent to my terms?"
"I will consent to nothing."
"Then I will not lift a hand to save her. She shall perish."
Nick saw that he was driving her too far.
His whole scheme, as the reader has understood, was to frighten Zel into submission.
"I will leave your fate in her hands," said Nick.
"In Ethel's?"
"Yes."
"And you will abide by what she says?"
"Yes."
"I will risk it. I will save her—now."
"Very well, do so."
"Release me?"
"No."
"How then can I save her?"
"You will tell me how to do it and I will act, not you. If you fail, the torture will proceed."
"If I succeed, you will release me?"
"If Ethel says so, yes."
"I carried a hand-bag when we came here?"
"Yes."
"It is in the other room. Get it."
It was brought to her.
"Open it and find the vial which is numbered '17,'" she said. "Then pour five drops between Ethel's lips."
"Which is the number that you gave her before—to which '17' is an antidote?" asked Nick.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because I wish to know."
"It is No. '7.'"
"Good! If you fail in this attempt upon Ethel, we may try No. '7' on you after we have become tired of administering torture."
"You will not fail."
"I will make the attempt, anyway."
He lifted Ethel's head tenderly.
Never had the detective suffered such agony as at that moment, but his face showed no sign of the anguish in his heart.
Tenderly he forced her lips apart and then her teeth, until there was just room enough between them through which to drop the ruby-colored liquid.
"One, two, three, four, five," he counted, and then he laid her head back again upon the pillow.
With eager eyes he watched her.
Moment after moment passed and not a sound disturbed the silence of the room.
Then, when five minutes had lapsed, Ethel suddenly opened her eyes in amazement.
WHEN Ethel opened her eyes, the sight that met her gaze was astonishing in the extreme.
Upon entering the coupe in front of her own door, she had been chloroformed, and before coming out of the influence of that drug, the potent decoction which had made her seem so much like a corpse had been administered.
Now, she was in a strange room.
Before her stood Nick in his Old Thunderbolt disguise; beside him, Chick, looking like a young Frenchman out for a holiday, and beyond, tightly manacled and sitting in a chair in which she had been bound, was a woman whom she instantly recognized as Zel.
"How do you feel, Ethel?" asked Nick, anxiously.
"Perfectly well."
"Can you get up?"
"Certainly," and she did so.
"You feel strong, and able to walk?"
"Yes—miles."
Then, in a few words, and as concisely as possible, Nick related to her all that had occurred, omitting only the strange proposition that Zel had made, for which the woman-fiend threw him a grateful glance.
Hardened in crime as she was, the instincts of a woman were left, and she could not bear to have the fragment of a heart that she still possessed, laid bare to the one who held the love she coveted.
"Now, Ethel," he continued, when he had finished, "Zel's fate remains with you. I have made her no promises, except that I will abide by your decision, whatever it may be.
"That she has saved you from death, I cannot deny, but she is also the one who put the danger upon you. I will leave you alone with her now, that my presence may not affect your decision in any way, and I have only one direction to give."
"What is that, Nick?"
"You are not to touch Zel, or to go nearer to her than you are now, under any circumstances. Let there be no mistake in this."
With Chick, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
"You will call me, Ethel, when you are ready for me," he said, just before he shut the door.
She assented, and the two women were left alone together.
Then the detective and his assistant waited.
Fifteen minutes passed, and still they were not summoned.
Still Nick was in no haste to enter.
Ten minutes more, and yet they were not called in.
Only a thin partition separated the two rooms, and they had heard no sound.
"I will wait five minutes longer and no more," said Nick.
Then he studied his watch while the five minutes slowly ticked themselves away.
Suddenly he threw open the door.
Then he uttered a loud exclamation of astonishment.
The room in which he had left Zel manacled to her chair, and where Ethel had been, free, and in her right senses, was empty.
Ethel was gone.
Zel was gone. There was no trace of either of them there.
He rubbed his eyes in perplexity. He bounded to the chair where Zel had been fastened.
The cords that had bound her there were lying upon the floor, having been cut by a sharp instrument.
The manacles were there also, and he saw that they had been opened with a key.
Upon the seat of the chair was a hastily written note:
"Fooled again," it said. "The tables are turned, Nick Carter. I am again free, and Ethel is yet in my power. Find her if you can. Z."
"Gone!" exclaimed Nick.
"Gone!" echoed Chick.
"But how?" continued Nick. "Ethel was free, and Zel was bound. Chick, has that fellow whom you bound and gagged and left in the lower hall, escaped?"
One leap carried Chick to the door, which led into the hall.
He opened it, and was about to dash out, when he was met by a blinding flash.
A loud report followed, and Chick staggered back into the room, and whirling, fell senseless at the feet of the Little Giant.
It was a moment to act, not to think.
Nick's arm straightened out and a ball went flying toward the spot from which the flash had come.
It was one of his wonderful snap-shots, and he had only the flash of the enemy's weapon at which to fire.
Nevertheless he hit the mark.
A loud groan and a heavy fall followed the report of his weapon.
With a bound he cleared the prostrate form of Chick.
With another he reached the hall-way, and while moving he drew his bull's-eye lantern and pressed the spring.
Upon the floor in front of him was stretched the body of a man.
Nick seized him and dragged him back into the room that he had just left.
A glance told him that the man was not dead.
He left him, then, and hurried to Chick.
Blood was flowing from the faithful assistant's sleeve, and the detective tore away his coat.
In a moment he found the wound.
Chick had been shot in the shoulder, and the shock, rather than the wound itself, had overcome him.
It was an ugly wound, but one from which he would recover, and Nick stanched the flow of blood, and dressed the wound as best he could under the circumstances.
Then he turned his attention to the fellow whom he had shot.
He was already beginning to revive, and presently he opened his eyes.
Patiently the detective waited until the fellow had regained strength enough to talk.
"Now, my man," he said, "unless you want to suffer the tortures of the inquisition, talk. I am in a torturing mood to-night, and I would just as soon cut out your tongue, as I would the tongue of a serpent. If you don't use it, you will lose it. Talk."
"What d'ye want me to say?"
"How did Zel get out of that chair?"
"I freed her."
"Why did not the lady who was with her give the alarm?"
"I chloroformed her."
"How?"
"Stole on her from behind."
"And then—"
"Then I freed Zel."
"What next?"
"We carried your wife to the hack."
"What hack?"
"The one I had at the door according to orders."
"From whom?"
"Zel."
"What was it for?"
"She said you were going away with her."
"Who drove the hack? One of your accomplices?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"My pal. When I got here, I went into the lower hall. I found my pal there, bound and gagged. I let him up. We knew there was trouble here. We came up on the dead quiet. We saw and heard what was taking place. When you went into the back-room, we did the rest."
"Then you staid behind."
"Yes."
"What for?"
"To kill you."
"Orders?"
"Yes."
"Where was the hack to go, from here"
"To Brooklyn."
"Give me the address?"
"I don't know the number."
"Describe the place."
"It's on the boulevard."
"Near what?"
"Near Flatbush."
"Well?"
"A big house with the gables on the road, and poplar trees all around it."
"Ah! 'Walker Grange.'"
"That's it."
"The hack went there?"
"Yes."
"If you are lying to me, I swear to you that I will—"
"I am not lying."
"Why do you betray Zel?"
"Because I didn't go into this thing for murder."
"What for, then?"
"Boodle."
"How long have you known Zel?"
"'Bout a week."
"And your pal?"
"The same."
"Is there anybody at 'Walker Grange,' now?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
"The nigger."
"The one who hit my friend to-day?"
"Yes."
"Anybody else?"
"No."
"Your pal, the nigger and Zel will be the only ones there when I get there, if I go at once?"
"Yes."
"What is your pal's name?"
"Bill Murray."
"And the nigger's?"
"Ike."
"You brought the horses and hack here?"
"Yes."
"Where from?"
"Morton's stables, on One Hundred and Twenty-eighth street."
"Were the horses fresh?"
"Not very."
"Are they good ones?"
"No, plugs; I had to buy 'em to get 'em, and I got cheap ones."
"You are sure about this?"
"Certain."
"You have been to 'Walker Grange' from here before?"
"Lots of times."
"With a fresh horse, and in the saddle how much time could I give Bill Murray and beat him there?"
"Nearly an hour."
"Good! I know something that will beat a good saddle horse. Now, how long had they been gone from the door, when you fired at Chick?"
"They had just left."
"And you came back to kill me?"
"Yes."
"I thought you weren't in this for murder?"
"Zel told me if I'd do it, she'd marry me."
"When did she tell you that?"
"When she got into the carriage."
"Do you believe her?"
"No; I did then, though."
Chick had regained consciousness during the first part of the conversation, and now attempted to rise to his feet.
"Can you walk, Chick?" asked Nick.
"I guess so."
"I have found out where Zel has gone, and I will get there first. You stay here and I will send the first officer that I meet to your assistance. Can you stand it?"
"Yes."
"Keep this fellow for future developments."
Nick did not wait to say more.
One leap carried him to the door, and the next one took him out.
Then he started away like a race-horse.
On the corner of Bleecker, just at the elevated station, he met a policeman.
A few hasty words sufficed to tell him all he cared to.
A train bound south was just rolling in at the station.
Nick went up the stairs two steps at a time.
The train was starting away when he reached the platform.
The gateman sought to stop him but Nick caught him by the throat and pushed him aside as though he were a straw.
Then he passed through the gate and jumped for the train.
He reached the rear platform of the last car.
He seized the gate, leaped over it, and was safely aboard of a down-town train which would carry him to Park place in a few moments.
WHEN the train reached Park place, Nick cleared the rear gate with a bound, and ran pell-mell down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs several cabs were standing waiting for belated travelers.
Nick leaped from the pavement clear to the top of one of them, and seized the reins, much to the astonishment of the driver, who thought that he was attacked by a madman.
"I want to drive to Brooklyn across the Bridge, unless I can just catch a train," said Nick, as he whipped up the horse. "I will give you ten dollars in either case, so sit still."
Cabby did sit still.
Ten-dollar bills were not to be picked up so easily every night, and he was content.
But Nick's proverbial luck was with him.
As he approached the Bridge, he saw that a train was just ready to start.
In a second, he pulled a bill from his pocket, leaped to the ground, and tore up the stairs of the Bridge at a break-neck pace.
He caught the train just in time.
The bell rang as he sprang aboard, and the train started the next second.
Six minutes later he was in Brooklyn.
There, he left the train, and ran to the street with the same swiftness as before, causing everybody who saw him to turn and stare with wonder, thinking him either a madman, or one who was trying to escape arrest.
A policeman at the foot of the Bridge stairs tried to stop him. but Nick was in no mood for trifling.
His hand shot out, and the policeman went down as though he had been kicked by a mule.
Then the detective dashed on.
He went up Washington street to Stein's stables, and in two minutes he was there.
"A saddle horse. quick!" he said.
"What for?" asked the man in charge.
"A matter of life and death," replied Nick, throwing three one-hundred-dollar bills into the hands of the manager.
"There's a deposit. Give me a good one; a stayer; a goer; and be quick about it. I'll give you an extra ten when I return. I am Nick Carter!"
The announcement acted like magic.
The man flew to obey.
In an incredibly short space of time, a huge gray horse was saddled, and brought before him.
One glance satisfied the detective that the horse was a good one.
He seized a whip, and bounded into the saddle.
Then away!
The horse seemed to feel the necessity of the moment.
The rider's tireless energy was, in a sense, imparted to the animal, and he dashed away over the pavement at a pace that would have been considered reckless in daylight.
Policemen endeavored to stop him in his mad career, but Nick rode straight at them, and they had to get out of the way to save themselves from being trampled upon.
Once, at the junction of Flatbush and Fulton avenues, an officer drew his revolver and threatened to shoot if Nick did not stop.
Nick shouted "All right," and then rode at the officer.
When near enough, he leaned down from his saddle.
He caught the policeman's revolver in his grasp, and wrenched it from his hand.
Then he dashed on again.
Fire flew from beneath the horse's hoofs.
In and out, among cars, past coupes, over debris piled in the street, several times narrowly escaping running over some unwary pedestrian, he dashed, and at last the park was reached.
Then he knew that he would meet with no further trouble.
His destination was "Walker Grange," and he was all the while keeping a sharp lookout on the carriage that he was determined to beat to its destination.
He passed two, either of which might be the one.
Could he have known positively he would have finished the trip then and there.
But he did not, and he could not spare the time to investigate.
The one he was seeking might still be ahead.
He knew, or rather, believed, that Ethel would be in no great peril before the house on the boulevard was reached.
But everything depended upon his getting to the house before Zel.
He was bound to do it.
Through the park and out upon the boulevard.
Then on, and on, and on!
Before him loomed the great house known as "Walker Grange," with its fringe of poplars, and its gloomy aspect.
He stopped his horse and leaped to the ground.
Then he led the faithful animal, wet with foam, among the trees at the side of the boulevard and tied him.
"I am in time," he murmured. "They have not yet arrived. When they do come, I will show the woman Zel, no mercy.
"It is not her life or mine; it is hers or Ethel's, and it shall be hers."
Then he crept toward the house, going carefully, for he suspected that the negro would be upon the watch.
He was.
Nick saw him sitting upon the broad veranda, smoking his pipe, and evidently upon the lookout for the carriage which he no doubt expected.
Nick stole around the house, and then crept toward the corner near which the negro was sitting.
Suddenly, he barked like a dog almost at the negro's feet.
The black leaped up with a curse, and the next instant he received a blow from Nick's fist, which sent him reeling from the veranda to the grass.
Nick followed up the blow by leaping upon him.
Another violent right-hander stole away the negro's senses, and he was limp and unconscious in the detective's hands.
To bind him and gag him thoroughly was but the work of a moment.
Then the Little Giant picked him up in his arms as though he were a child, and carried him into the house.
His idea was to make up to represent the negro, but he did not have time.
Almost as soon as he had carried the fellow into the house, he heard the roll of wheels, and he knew that the hack which had Ethel for a passenger was approaching.
To open the cellar-door and push the negro down, was but the work of an instant.
Then he went through the house to the front, and waited, standing where he could see everything that happened.
He saw the hack stop, and Bill Murray leap down.
"Ike! Ike!" he heard him call; but Ike did not answer.
"Curse the nigger! Where is he?"
"Drunk, maybe," replied Zel's voice. "Here, Bill, carry my sister into the house."
"Her sister!" muttered Nick, with a shudder.
"Is she dead?" asked Bill.
"Dead! No;" and Zel laughed. "She is not dead yet. Take her in."
"Where to?"
"The parlor."
That was the room in which Nick was waiting, and he stood behind the door when it opened, waiting for a chance at Bill, for he saw that Zel was waiting by the horses until he returned.
The chance came.
There was no light in the room, except that which the moon gave, but Bill knew where the sofa was.
Indeed, he could see it in the moonlight.
He went toward it with his burden; he placed Ethel upon it and then—well, then he saw starlight.
Something struck him.
It was Nick's fist, but Bill fell like a bullock smitten with an ax.
He did not utter a sound, but fell senseless at the first blow.
Nick quickly handcuffed him, and then he turned to Ethel.
A glance, even in that light, told him that she was suffering from nothing more serious than chloroform.
"Poor child!" he murmured, "you shall be persecuted no more, I swear!"
"Bill!" cried the voice of Zel.
"Well, what d'ye want?" shouted Nick, imitating Bill's voice.
"Come here to these horses."
"Cuss the horses! Let 'em go. I'm stuck on this gal, Tam. Say, you ain't a-goin' to do her up while I'm in it, you hear me!"
He heard Zel laugh, and it was the laugh, that with her portended evil.
Then he saw her leave the horses and come toward the house.
Something glistened in her hand, and a brighter ray of moonlight betrayed the fact that it was a revolver.
"She believed that I would kill Bill's pal, and now she means to murder Bill," thought Nick. "Later, she would do for Ike. Ah, what a fiend she is!"
She came nearer.
She entered the house.
She came to the door which led from the hall into the room where Nick was.
There she paused.
"Bill!" she said, softly.
Then Nick touched the spring in his bull's-eye lantern, and the sudden ray of brilliant light fell full upon her face, blinding her.
"Bill is not here," he said, sharply. "It is I who wait for you, Zel."
"Nick Carter!"
"Yes. Move, and I will shoot you where you stand."
"Bah! shoot me, then. I do not fear that. I made a devil of you, and you would torture me. If I could see you past that blinding ray of light that you hold in my eyes, I would try to shoot you Nick Carter, even though I know that you would kill me first. If I could run, and hope to escape, I would do so. If I could take poison, believing that you would not have a post-mortem held over me to insure my death, I would do so.
"But I can do none of them. You have foiled me at every turn, and so now I do this."
There was a loud report, and Zel, the female fiend, fell forward upon the floor at Nick Carter's feet, dead.
She had turned the revolver without raising her hand, and the ball had pierced her heart.
Nick could not prevent the act, for he could not see it until it was done.
Dead at last, surely dead.
There would be no resurrection this time for Zel.
Nick Carter's greatest enemy was defeated and dead.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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