“Will arrive nine-thirty, morning. Have important information. Don’t lose sight of C. L. before I get there.Patsy.�
“Will arrive nine-thirty, morning. Have important information. Don’t lose sight of C. L. before I get there.
Patsy.�
“Patsy did not receive the messages I sent early this morning,� was the only comment that Nick made as he put the paper into one of his pockets; but Chick had already gone to the telephone. He came hurrying back again a moment later.
“Lynne is there,� he said. “Oaks will detain him till we get there. Shall we go now?�
“Yes; only I want you, Chick, to go in another direction. Go to the Lynne residence and make a thorough search of the rooms and everything in them that this man has used since he has been recognized as Carleton Lynne. Telephone me from there, at Oaks’ office. I want you to find, most of all, an iron-gray wig, cropped false mustache, and a pair of oiled-silk face scars, such as we have had to use in disguises before now—and anything else that turns up. Come along, Pryor. We’ll take the subway.â€�
The detective left Pryor in the corridor of the office building while he entered the office of Benjamin Oaks; but a moment later he opened the door and beckoned to the clerk, who followed him inside, led him across the room to another door that was partly ajar, and said:
“Listen, and tell me whom you suppose to be in that room.�
After a moment of silence, during which Pryor listened to the murmur of voices that could be heard in the private office, he turned and, with a strange expression on his face, but without hesitation, said:
“Mr. Carter, one of the two men who are talkingtogether in that room is Henry Carroll. I would swear to it anywhere.�
“Good. That is all. You may return to the Creotoria now and wait there till I need you, Pryor.� Then, when the clerk had gone, the detective walked calmly into the private office of Benjamin Oaks.
Oaks looked up at the detective’s entrance, and nodded his head in recognition. The other man, who had been called Carleton Lynne, half arose from his chair, and then, with a curt nod at Nick, reseated himself upon it.
Nick, with a genial “Good morning, gentlemen,� passed behind Lynne’s chair in crossing the room; but when he was directly behind it he moved with lightninglike quickness. He drew a pair of steel handcuffs from his coat pocket; he seized Lynne’s wrists and drew them together so suddenly that the man could not resist him, and he snapped the handcuffs into place, pinioning the man’s wrists behind his back, before there was an opportunity of escape or resistance.
Of course, there was a struggle, but it was shortlived, and the man who was known as Carleton Lynne found himself on his back on the floor, with Nick Carter standing over him, and smiling down upon him as he said coolly:
“Henry Carroll, alias Carleton Lynne, alias a lot of other names—I have no doubt—you are under arrest for the double murder at the Creotoria apartment house early this morning, and, incidentally, for the lesser crime of impersonating one Carleton Lynne, and for the temporary theft under that name of some twelvemillions of dollars. Call up headquarters, Oaks, and tell them to send a wagon down here after this fellow. I’ll stand here till it comes.â€�
That practically ends this story, although not quite. There are a few interesting odds and ends to pick up, as yet, which are important.
Chick found the wig, the mustache, the oil-silk scars, and five letters addressed to Henry Carroll at Hailey, Idaho, at the house he searched. Four of the letters contained not a thing that seemed to be important; the fifth one was in cipher; none of the letters bore a signature; all were typewritten, and bore the New York City postmark. It is worthy of comment right here that not a thing was found to implicate Madge Babbington in the affair, and to state that at the trial of Carroll, which followed in due time, he steadily denied that she had had any complicity with him in his acts. When asked why he had attempted to murder her, he admitted that he had known her for a long time—insisting, however, that she had known him only as Carleton Lynne, and had believed that to be his right name—and that she had repulsed him when he declared his love for her. It was all a lie, of course, but there was no way of establishing that he did lie about it.
The veiled woman who had called at the apartment, and who had gone from there to the hospital to see Madge, proved to be the missing Miss Hunt who had formerly and for so long a time been in the employ of Benjamin Oaks.
The information she had to give was as unimportant as were the statements of the man Carroll. It was merely to the effect that she had been bought off from her “jobâ€� by the woman, now dead, who called herself Nora McQueen, and had gone on a trip in the meantime, having been assured that she could get her job back again at the end of six months, or less; and that she had been lately notified by Miss McQueen that she could return at any time, being advised when she did so to apply first, for information, to Mrs. Babbington, at the Creotoria. She had returned to the city that morning, had seen the account of the murders, had gone to the Creotoria, had seen the dead body of Miss McQueen, and had hastened to the hospital for further information—which she did not get.
Down at the office of Benjamin Oaks, when the patrol wagon had taken the prisoner away, the lawyer and Nick had spent a few moments in conversation, and then Nick had hurried away to his own house to meet Patsy, who had notified him by telephone at the lawyer’s office of his arrival. Chick was there, too, waiting.
Nor was that all.
Patsy had not returned alone.
He had brought with him an emaciated but convalescent gentleman, and when he introduced that person to Nick Carter it was done in these words:
“Mr. Lynne, this is Mr. Carter. Chief, this man is the real Carleton Lynne. He went to the Klondike at the time of the rush with a friend named Henry Carroll. He got lost in a storm while there and wasreported dead. In reality, the silence and the cold destroyed his reason, and for years he wandered about the world, not knowing who he was. But his memory returned to him a few months ago, and he made his way back again to Hailey, Idaho, where he is well known, and where there is sufficient proof of his identity, as I have found.
“You will notice that there is a strange as well as an unaccountable resemblance between him and Henry Carroll—at least, he tells me there is, and Chick agrees with him; and that, I think, in part accounts for the daring effort on the part of Carroll to pass himself off as Lynne. Of course, the stolen papers and photograph assisted in that—and Carroll took good care not to appear in Hailey as Lynne.â€�
And so it was that the rightful heir came into his own at last.
Carleton Lynne raised himself in the bed, not without some difficulty, and stared at the intruder. He was weak, and therefore unable to defend himself, but no trace of fear showed upon his features, or in his eyes, which gazed quite calmly into the eyes of the man who had quietly seated himself upon a chair ten feet away and who was holding an automatic pistol so that the muzzle of it menaced him.
Carleton Lynne had stared death in the face too many times to be greatly frightened by the present episode. Experience had taught him that when one man threatens another with a gun, he does not intend to make use of it unless the necessity arises; and as yet there was no necessity that this gun should be used.
“Well?� he inquired composedly, and with the ghost of a smile upon his lean face which plainly showed the ravages of the long illness he had undergone.
“You’re a cool one,� was the response, delivered in a heavy bass voice which was yet modulated to the necessities of the occasion so that the sound of it would not penetrate beyond the walls of the sleeping room of the present master of the Lynne mansion.
“I am also a sick one—or, rather, a very weak one, as a consequence of having been extremely ill for a long time,â€� was the calm reply. “I could not fight youif I tried, there is no electric button within my reach, and I have no weapon under the pillow, or in the bed, so your present attitude with that gun in your hand is quite unnecessary.â€�
The unexpected, uninvited guest chuckled and grinned, and lowered the gun, which he dropped into the side pocket of his sack coat.
“You are Carleton Lynne,â€� he said—as one might have said “this is a room in a house.â€�
“I am,� was the reply.
“You are the master of millions, too.�
“About a dozen of them, I think—more or less.â€�
“What are you going to do with them?�
“Really, I don’t know. I haven’t given much thought to that aspect of the subject, as yet.� This reply was given with a smile, and Lynne hitched himself farther up in the bed and crowded the extra pillow behind him.
“It’s time you did, then.�
“Very possibly. Is it because you wished to give me some disinterested advice on the subject that I am indebted to this midnight call?�
“Do I look like a fellow who goes around giving disinterested advice?� was the gruff response.
“No; to tell you the truth, you do not. On the contrary, you bear a very close resemblance to an unmitigated scoundrel, coward, and squaw man whom I once knew in the Klondike. He was known up there as Red Mike.� This answer was delivered as coolly and as imperturbably as it might have been had their positions been reversed.
But the man seated on the chair seemed to accept it as a compliment rather than as an affront. He grinned affably and shifted one leg across the other knee.
“I’m glad you haven’t forgotten me, Lynne,� he said. “The fact may hasten the adjustment of matters between us.�
“One does not soon forget an enforced association with vermin,� said Lynne.
“That will be about all of that sort of twaddle, Mr. Carleton Lynne,� Red Mike remarked, with a slow scowl. “We can talk decently together, without slinging mud, or I’ll fix you so that you won’t be able to talk at all. Take your choice.�
“Very well; talk away—if you have anything to say that can be listened to by a self-respecting gentleman. I find that I have been mistaken about you, and I’m very sorry that it was a mistake.â€�
“What about?�
“I had been informed—authentically, I supposed—that you were dead.â€�
“Well, I heard the same thing about you; only I’m glad that it has turned out to be a mistake, for otherwise you would not have come into these millions.�
“Quite true, Michael the Red.�
“Hank Carroll would have raked in the pot, eh?�
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t. He’d have got what is coming to him now, within a short time, just the same. It happens in a room with a little door, and it is done by shifting an electric switch. The explanation mayinterest you, Michael, because that is what you are destined to get, too.�
“It will be long after you are dead and buried, if I do.�
“Possibly; but that, if it be true, does not alter the inevitable. Might I venture to ask what brought you here?�
“Your millions, Lynne. I want a couple of them.�
“Oh, you do, eh?�
“I do—and you’re going to give them to me.â€�
“Oh, no, I’m not. You’re quite mistaken about that.�
“If you do not—if you refuse the terms I shall offer you, I’ll——â€�
“Don’t say it, Mike.�
“Why not? Have I scared you for once?�
“I’m not one of the scary kind, as you know; and you’d only be indulging in another lie. You wouldn’t kill me; not now, at least.�
“Why not?�
“Because if you did that there would be no show at all for you to get something out of me, while on the other hand while there is life there is also hope. Eh, Mike? I am wondering how you ever scraped up courage to come here and face me, even though you know that I am physically unable to defend myself. Who is behind you in this affair, Mike? You never would have dared to undertake it alone; never at all if you had not been egged on to it by some one with a stronger will. It must have been a woman, Mike; men never had much influence over you.�
Red Mike moved uneasily in his chair, and shifted his legs; also he gave the subject a different channel.
“I took the trail of Henry Carroll, and kept it for two years after I found out what he was up to,â€� he said. “I was just about to fall on him when——â€�
“Well, why do you hesitate?�
“When Nick Carter spoiled it all after Hank was fool enough to murder those two women in that flat at the Creotoria.�
Carleton Lynne laughed aloud. Then he said:
“You would never have ‘fallen’ upon Carroll, Mike, and you know it.�
“Why not, I’d like to know.�
“Because you were afraid of him; you always were—more afraid of him than you were of me in those old days, and that is saying considerable.â€�
“Afraid of nothing!�
“Afraid of everything, rather. You always were a despicable coward, Michael—don’t look so savage; words can’t hurt you—and Carroll was never afraid of anything. Have you forgotten the time he made you crawl on your hands and knees out of the saloon at Nome? And that, without showing a gun, while you held one in your hand all the time and were afraid to attempt to use it.â€�
The scowl on Red Mike’s face grew threatening, for, after all, the man on the bed was at his mercy.
He dropped his right hand into the coat pocket again and fondled the automatic gun, as if half inclined to use it; and Lynne, without changing the tone of his voice but realizing the danger of the moment, added:
“Maybe the effect upon you was hypnotic.�
The scowl disappeared, and the right hand came out of the pocket, without the gun.
“That was it. He always did half hypnotize me, Lynne. I was never really afraid of Carroll, but those deadly cold eyes of his always affected me somehow so that I could not move a muscle.�
“Quite so,� replied the man on the bed ironically.
“Say, are you going to give me a slice off of that fortune of yours?�
“I am—not!â€�
“Then it’s yours for the long, dark journey, Lynne.�
“Nonsense, Mike; and besides, I have followed that trail so near to the end of it so many times that it has become quite familiar. I’m not at all afraid of it. Who is the woman, Mike?�
“What woman? What are you talking about?�
“The woman who induced you to come here.�
“There isn’t any woman.�
“Oh, isn’t there? I thought that perhaps you had hit it off with Mrs. Hurd-Babbington. She has had her eyes upon the Lynne millions for a long time, and the gentleman you mentioned a moment ago, Mr. Nicholas Carter by name, has told me that she won’t lose sight of them. I suppose I could buy you both off with a million apiece, eh?�
“I want two. I don’t know anything about any woman.�
“You want two millions, do you? What would you do with them if you had them?� Lynne pulled himself still farther up in the bed as he asked the question.
“I’ll tell you one thing that I would do,� was the eager reply, for he evidently believed that Lynne was weakening, and might, after all, give up. “I’d get out of your sight and mind, and stay out of them.�
“Would a check satisfy you, if I should get out of this bed and write one now?�
“No, it would not. I’m not such a fool as all that.�
“Well, you don’t suppose that I am in the habit of taking two million dollars, in cash, to bed with me, do you?�
“No, but I do know one thing about you, Lynne.�
“Do you, really? What is that interesting thing that you do know about me?�
“I know you to be a man of your word. If you should give me your solemn promise that you would put two millions in cash in my hand to-morrow or next day, and give me fourteen days’ start without attempting to follow, or to find out where I had gone, you’d keep your word to the letter. I know that.�
“You pay me quite a compliment, Red Mike.�
“Will you do that, Lynne?�
“I am considering it. Don’t hurry me. Will you tell me the name of the woman?�
“Yes, if you consent.�
“So there really is a woman behind you, after all, eh?�
“Stow that, Lynne. If you do not give your consentâ€�—he drew the automatic from his pocket—“I’ll use this little toy, right here, and now. That’s final, and I’ll give you just five minutes to answer.â€�
There were several years of entire blank behind Carleton Lynne, so far as his memory was concerned.
He had gone to the Klondike before that time, prospecting for gold, and he had gone to that country of blizzards and gold, starvation and plenty with a man named Henry Carroll, to whom Red Mike had already made reference in the foregoing conversation.
In the mind of Lynne there was here and there a hazy recollection of some of the lesser things that had happened to him after he so nearly died of exposure and injuries in the far north; but in the main he knew nothing of those intervening years, and had known little or nothing of himself, not even his name, until a short time before Patsy found him, to bear out the proof that the impostor in the East, Henry Carroll, was not the heir to so many millions.
And the young man, as yet only twenty-six, was still an invalid, although he had lost nothing of his old spirit and daring—and back of the date when he had fallen exhausted in the snow and had been left for dead, his memory was clear enough.
Therefore, naturally, he remembered the man who had intruded upon him in his sleeping room in the Lynne mansion in New York City, which he had been in possession of so short a time—for everything thathad happened to him before that dreadful experience was as strong in his recollection as if the happening had been yesterday.
And this Red Mike had been one of the bad characters of that former experience in the Klondike.
He had been a bad man and a dangerous one, until he was cornered; but at such times, like others of his ilk, he had inevitably proved himself an unconscionable coward.
Mike had been at one time the proprietor of a saloon, a gambler, and everything that was bad; he had been a sluice robber, a road agent, a thief, a bully, and he had been suspected of at least one murder done in cold blood, where the victim had been shot in the back, and without an opportunity to defend himself.
But there had been no proof of it, and he had not been made to suffer the consequences of it, as should have been the case.
And once upon a time, when Lynne and Carroll and two others had found the man lost in the snow and near the point of perishing they had rescued him and saved his life.
Most men would be grateful forever for such an act of succor, but it had seemed to incur the enmity and hatred of Red Mike, rather than his friendliness.
And then, just before Lynne started out on the trail which was to be his last one in that country—the time he was supposed to have lost his life—Lynne had had occasion to administer a thorough thrashing to the Red one.
These are small things, to be sure, but with a character like Red Mike’s there is no such thing as forgetting them—and Mike had not forgotten.
And Mike, with all his roughness, uncouth manners, and scoundrelly principles, was a well-educated, well-bred person, who had gone wrong, or whose natural propensities for evil had dominated every other impulse within him.
Just why Mike should be there in that room at the dead of night, Lynne did not know, and at the moment could not guess, although he thought that he could read between the lines and conjecture upon it vaguely.
Carleton Lynne recalled the fact that once when he was in the company of Henry Carroll—now on his way to the death chair at Sing Sing—and this same Red Mike, he had been led to talk about his rich uncle in the East, J. Cephas Lynne, and to speak of the millions possessed by that relative whom he had not seen since he was a child; and since Patsy found Carleton Lynne in Idaho, and had related to him all that had happened to bring about the death of J. Cephas Lynne and his only daughter, Edythe, and to take to New York a man who personated Carleton Lynne—well, the rightful heir had been enabled to understand something of the conditions that had brought about such a strange circumstance; or rather, such a condition of circumstances.
He could understand, or thought he could, how, after he was supposed to be dead, Carroll had remembered that conversation in which reference to the rich uncle had been made; how Carroll had looked the matter up, had learned of the death of Cephas Lynne and the daughter, and that the great fortune was going a-begging.
And so—well, Henry Carroll had possessed himself of the papers and old photographs of his supposedly dead associate, and had finally gone East to impersonate Lynne, and to make claim to the fortune.
And now, as Lynne faced Red Mike, there in his own sleeping room, he could understand, too, how the desperado had been all the time on the track of Carroll, resolved that he would force some kind of a division of the wealth from the man who had once been Lynne’s partner.
But then things had taken another turn.
Carroll had fallen under the influence of a woman—Mrs. Hurd-Babbington; he had committed the crimes which were speeding him toward the death chair, and the rightful heir had been found in this man who was now sitting so calmly in his bed, facing the armed man who had intruded upon the privacy of his room in the dead of night.
That was the exact situation at the moment as nearly as it can be explained here.
There had been no difficulty in establishing the identity of the real Carleton Lynne, and in proving his right to inherit the millions of J. Cephas Lynne, and so now, at this moment, he was the master of millions—and be it said, as little affected by that mastery as if they had been counted by units instead of by hundreds of thousands.
Nevertheless, Lynne knew thoroughly well the character of the man who threatened him.
A coward to the backbone, he was none the less dangerous with the power in his possession, as it now was, to murder a defenseless man; and again, this man, without a single trait of character that made for good, understood perfectly well the character of the man in the bed; knew that he could accept that man’s word, and that if given, it would be kept.
And so, with the pistol in his hand, he demanded such a promise, on pain of death.
Put yourself in such a place for a moment, in thought, and consider what you would do under such circumstances.
Suppose yourself to be as yet barely convalescent after a long and severe illness, with all your strength sapped and gone, and with no physical ability to cope with such a person as Red Mike.
What would you do, if, being the possessor of many millions, you were awakened from your sleep under just such conditions?
The answer is obvious, of course.
You, and I, and nine hundred and ninety-nine men out of every thousand would give the required promise readily enough, and as readily break it, convinced that a promise given under such conditions cannot be a sacred one, and should therefore not be kept.
But not so Carleton Lynne.
Red Mike was well aware of the one weakness of this new master of millions, and he was smart enough to play upon it—for it is a weakness to have set upone principle on a pedestal, and to have sworn that no sort of condition would ever compel a departure from it.
Well, then, what would you do, under such circumstances, if it were morally as impossible for you to give your word and then break it, as it were physically impossible for you to throw the intruder out of the window?
There does not seem to be much left that it could be possible to do, does there?
Lynne hitched himself still higher in the bed and threw back the clothing that covered him; then, clad only in his pajamas, he swung his legs around over the side of the bed, and thrust his feet into a pair of bath slippers that were within reach.
Then he sat quite still, with his hands resting on his knees, while he bent forward just a little and peered smilingly into the face of the burly, red-headed, but nevertheless handsome, scoundrel who was now holding the automatic pistol with the muzzle of it covering his heart.
The thing that had awakened Lynne from sleep was the switching on of the electric lights when Mike entered the room, so that now, with four incandescents glowing, the room was shadowless.
“No funny business now, Lynne,â€� said the intruder. “You can give me that promise just as well without getting out of bed—so stay there.â€�
“Well, I won’t stay there, Mike, and that’s all about it,� was the cool reply. “I’ve got to think this thing over.�
“Rats! There isn’t anything to think over. All you’ve got to say is ‘yes; I’ll do it, Mike,’ and after you have said that, we’ll arrange the details, and then I’ll put my gun back in my pocket, and hit the trail. You can do that just as well where you are, as——â€�
“Look here, Mike, a man doesn’t give away two millions without making conditions, does he? You wouldn’t, would you?�
Red Mike permitted himself to grin.
“Well, make your conditions where you are, then. I’ll agree to ’em.�
“I won’t do it. Shoot, if you want to; but I won’t do that.�
“Do what?�
“Make any verbal conditions with you. You’d agree to anything, and break your agreement the next hour. I know you.�
“Well, what do you want?�
“Before I make any promises, such as you demand, I’m going to draw up a paper which you have got to sign with your full name.�
“Oh; I have, eh? Well, maybe I won’t do that, Lynne.�
“Then you won’t get any promise out of me; that’s flat; not with twenty automatics in your hands.�
Saying this, Lynne kicked off the slippers, and made as if to return to the bedcoverings.
“Hold on there,� Mike exclaimed. “What kind of a paper do you want to write?�
“You’ll know what it is after I have written it and you have read it over.�
The reader will see by all this that notwithstanding the years that had passed since any former meeting between these two men, Lynne nevertheless knew his man perfectly well. If he had permitted himself to be bullied at all, there would have been nothing for him to do but to comply with the demands that were made upon him. But, by pretending that he was at the point of consent, and then insisting upon certain useless forms, Lynne believed that an opportunity could be found to do the thing he had determined to attempt in order to escape from the present predicament.
“Where do you want to write it? At that desk over there?�
“Probably.�
“Have you got a gun, or any sort of weapon hidden away in that desk, where you can get your hand on it?�
“No.�
“Are you going to make that promise?�
“We will discuss that after you have consented to sign the paper I shall draw,� was the calm reply. “Not before.�
“All right. Go to the desk and write it. But, mind you, Lynne, I shall watch every move you make, and if I so much as see an indication on your part of trying to get out of this scrape, I’ll turn this gun loose, and you’ll get eight bullets in your back faster’n you could count ’em.�
Carleton Lynne seated himself at the desk, drew some sheets of paper toward him, and began to write.
He did not once turn his head to look behind him, although he could, from time to time, hear Red Mike, as the desperado shifted his position, or his legs; and once he heard him strike a match, and presently smelled the odor of tobacco. The fellow had rolled himself a cigarette, evidently; had laid aside the gun long enough to do that.
This, of itself, was promising. The man was relaxing his vigilance possibly.
Lynne wrote on in silence.
He scarcely thought of what he was writing, his thoughts being busy with the exigencies of the moment; and yet he wrote succinctly for all of that, for he was well aware of the fact that he had an educated man to deal with, and one who was more than ordinarily shrewd in his way.
Nevertheless Lynne had no intention of making the promise that had been demanded of him; he was seeking only time to think up a way out of the dilemma in which he was involved.
He wrote slowly—very slowly indeed, killing all the time he could; and after a time the continued uneasy stirring of Red Mike in the chair behind him told him that the man was fast becoming impatient.
“Say, what are you up to, anyway, Lynne?� was the impatient demand that came, after a time. “Do you suppose that I want to spend the balance of the night here?�
Lynne shrugged his shoulders and wrote on, without reply.
“How long is that bloody document going to be?� was the next demand.
No reply.
“What is it all about, anyhow?�
“I’m nearly through now, Red,� was the reply, this time. “Just a moment more.�
There was another interval of silence, and then Lynne laid aside the pen, picked up the paper upon which he had been writing, and pretended to read over what he had written with great care; and all the time Red Mike watched him with close attention.
Presently Lynne dropped the hand that held the paper at his side, and raised his eyes to the man who confronted him, for he had turned in his chair when he began to read over the contents of the paper.
“Well,� said Mike, “is it ready?�
“Yes. Shall I read it to you, or do you prefer to read it for yourself?�
“I reckon, maybe, if I’ve got to sign it, I’d better read it myself; eh?�
“As you please.�
“Suppose I won’t sign it after I have read it?�
“Then you won’t get any promise from me; that’s all.�
“Not even with this?� he raised the gun threateningly.
“No, not even with that; not with a dozen of them,� was the decided reply.
“All right. Let’s see it. We’ll talk over the particulars afterward.�
Lynne bent forward and passed the paper to him; but as Red Mike took it in his hand, he did not remove his eyes from the face of Lynne; and, after a moment, he exclaimed:
“Say, Lynne, you’d better get back into that bed. You look—well, you look all in. You’re a heap sicker than I thought you were.â€�
“The exertion—of getting up—and writing—this—was a little—too much—for me—I suppose,â€� replied Lynne, staggering to his feet and groping out with his hands as one does who is walking in the dark and is fearful of colliding with some obstacle.
He reeled a little where he stood, and then essayed to move toward the bed, while Mike, bending toward him, watched every move as if he did not know whether to assist the sick man or not.
Lynne took a tottering step toward the bed; then another one; he raised his right hand to his forehead and pressed it there; he staggered again; and then, just as Red Mike started to rise from his chair, probably to lend assistance, Lynne pitched forward full upon him, overturning chair and man together at the same instant, and they went to the floor together, for despite the sickness that Lynne had undergone he was still a heavy man.
The reader has suspected, of course, that Lynne was counterfeiting this attack of faintness; that he was dissembling. Red Mike did not suspect it, however; it was too well done—and it was the only method that Lynne had been able to think of by which there was the slightest possibility of his gaining the upper hand.
So, when he did fall forward, he fell with a dead weight; and he took care to cast that weight all upon the side of the other man where the automatic gun was still grasped in the right hand; and as he fell, he made use of a pin that he had picked up from the desk where he had been writing. It was, in fact, the pin that had really suggested the act he was endeavoring now to carry out.
He held it between the thumb and finger of the hand he had pressed against his forehead, and, as he fell forward, he threw that hand out so that it came into sharp contact with Red Mike’s right hand, which held the gun.
If you had been a witness to the scene, you would have said that Lynne’s chin and hand fell somewhere upon Red Mike’s firearm, at the same instant—and you would have been astonished at the consequence of it.
The sharp prick of a pin, ungently prodded, will sometimes produce great results, for the pain from it is unexpected, and is always acute.
That this one was prodded downward into the wrist of Red Mike by no gentle thrust may well be believed, and the man uttered a sharp exclamation of pain, whilehis fingers unclasped themselves from around the butt of the gun so that it fell to the floor even before the men did so.
Lynne knew perfectly well that he could do nothing with the gun by seeking to make use of it at once.
In his weakened condition, at that close range, while he was still practically within the grasp of Red Mike, the latter would have no difficulty in taking the weapon from him; in repossessing himself of it.
Therefore Lynne carried out his first intention—the first plan he had made when he found the pin on the desk; he rolled on his back, upon the weapon, so that he covered it with his body, and, throwing out his arms at right angles with his body, simulated complete unconsciousness as best he could.
And that best that he could do seemed to be sufficient for the limited experience of Red Mike in such matters.
Cursing none too mildly, but yet in a tone that was subdued for the occasion, and nursing his right wrist with his left hand, he struggled to his feet again and looked down upon the fallen man, for the moment, evidently, forgetful of the gun.
“Dead?� he asked himself, aloud; then he bent forward and pressed his left hand over the region of Lynne’s heart.
He could plainly feel the beat of it, and he straightened up again—and it was then that he missed possession of the weapon and cast about him with his eyes in search of it.
Lynne was lying perfectly still on his back with hisarms stretched out at right angles with his body, to all appearance unconscious.
“It’s under him, I suppose,� Lynne heard him mutter, and Mike stooped over as if with the intention of recovering it; and still Lynne had the courage and the strength of purpose to wait, for he knew how utterly impossible it would be for him to cope with Red Mike, under present conditions.
It was the one thing that he had feared in the carrying out of his plans; that Red Mike would insist upon regaining possession of the weapon at once, and it seemed as if such was about to be the case.
If so, Lynne knew that he would have to wait until there was an opportunity to attempt some other expedient.
But a diversion occurred.
The paper upon which Lynne had been writing, and which he had given into the left hand of Red Mike just before the instant of falling in the well-stimulated faint, was now on the floor, half a dozen feet away.
It caught the eye of Red Mike, even as he bent forward to recover the weapon, and he half straightened up again, muttering aloud as he did so:
“I might as well read that over before he comes around.�
Still he hesitated, however; then he turned and picked up the sheet of paper, and began to read.
In order that you who read may understand the ingenuity of Carleton Lynne, and may realize how thoroughly he understood the character of the man with whom he had to deal, we will quote the opening paragraph ofthat document, for it was really that which spared his life and which saved the two million dollars that had been demanded of him.
“I, Mike McManus, known as Red Mike, late of the Klondike, former thief, road agent, and murdererâ€�—Red Mike read that far, and stopped, looking across the top of the paper at the apparently insensible form upon the floor, and scowling darkly.
Then he lowered the paper a trifle and shook his fist at the prostrate man.
“I’ll even up with you, all right, all right, when I get those two millions in my jeans, mister man,� he growled. “But I may as well read all the slush he’s got written down here while he’s unconscious;� and he read on again.
“Gambler, confidence man, and crook, agree herein over my signature that upon the condition that I receive two million dollars in cash from the hand of Carleton Lynne, to be paid to me at a time and place hereafter to be agreed upon, I will fulfill each and every condition and stipulation herein set forth by said Lynne as conditions precedent to the said payment of said sum as aforesaid, binding myself——â€�
Red Mike paused long enough to glance over the paper at Lynne, on the floor. Then he stooped and picked up the fallen chair, righted it, and seated himself upon it.
With yet another glance toward Lynne to assure himself that unconsciousness still prevailed, he raised the paper again, and continued the reading; and while he did so Lynne half opened his eyes, and sighed.
Mike looked up quickly.
“Coming around, eh?� he said, with a laugh.
There was no reply, only Lynne’s eyes continued to stare rather vacantly at Mike.
“Say, did you hear me?�
A faint nod was the only reply, and the eyes closed again. Mike shrugged his shoulders and resumed the reading of the paper; he was reading the conditions now, and they proved to be of interest.
Lynne moved his right arm, placed that hand to his head, and then dropped it back upon the floor again, in its former position. Mike looked up, saw the act, and continued to read.
Lynne repeated the performance; then he did it a third time; then a fourth; then a fifth, and at the fifth time Mike paid no attention to him.
Each time that Lynne’s hand fell back to the floor, it came down a trifle closer to his body, and when it fell the sixth time it shot beneath him and grasped the butt of the gun.
Mike saw the act this time and started forward; but he was not quick enough.
The gun was leveled at him before he could grasp the hand that held it, and the calm voice of Carleton Lynne said:
“Put up your hands, Mike, and do it now! I’ve got strength enough to send a couple of these eight bullets into you before you can reach me. Sit down again on that chair, and we’ll discuss the details, Michael.�
It has been said that Red Mike was a coward at heart. He proved it now.
With the muzzle of the automatic aiming at his heart he was no match for the sick man on the floor, who had now raised himself to one elbow and was smiling, well pleased by the turn that events had taken.
He raised his hands above his head as he had been commanded to do—and we need not repeat the language he used as he did so.
While he was swearing, Lynne slowly raised himself to his feet, all the time holding the gun in that threatening position.
Then he backed across the room toward a push button in the wall near the door, and with his disengaged hand, pressed upon it, and kept on pressing.
After a wait which seemed very long, which, in reality, was quite short, considering the hour, and during which Red Mike continued to swear and threaten, there was a sharp rap on the door, and, in obedience to Lynne’s summons, a manservant entered the room.
He came to a halt and stared when he saw the situation; but Lynne’s voice addressed him calmly.
“Lift that engraving from its place against thewall, Thomas,� he said. “I want you to use the wire cord to bind this fellow. Wind it two or three times around his wrists with his hands behind him; then ask him to sit down while you do up his ankles in the same manner.�
Lynne watched the proceeding while his orders were being carried out, all the time with that inscrutable smile on his face.
When it was done, he said:
“Now go to the telephone for me. You remember Mr. Carter’s number, do you?�
“Yes, sir.�
“Call him up. Ask him if he will be good enough to come here at once. Tell him that it is important; otherwise I would not make the request.�
“Yes, sir.�
“If he should ask you what is the matter, explain to him that—well, just explain the situation just as you see it and understand it. That will be sufficient till he gets here.â€�
“But I do not understand it, sir.�
“Neither will he—till he gets here. Go now. Remember, Mr. Carter in person, if he is at home. If he is not, then either one of his assistants.â€�
“Yes, sir.�
Lynne crossed the room and managed to turn the chair upon which Mike was seated, so that it faced the bed; then, still holding the gun in his hand, he got into the bed again and propped the pillows behind him.
Red Mike was still swearing and calling names, andthreatening what he would do when the opportunity offered, even if such opportunity happened a thousand years hence; but he came to a stop and stared in amazement when Lynne returned to the bed.
“You’re a cool one!� he ejaculated for the second time since he had entered that room.
“Precisely; and you’re a hot one—just now,â€� was the reply.
“Well, you’ve got me—what are you going to do with me, Lynne?â€�
“I shall let Nick Carter determine that, Mike.�
“Then I see my finish.�
“Possibly.�
“I haven’t stolen anything.�
“No, but you have broken and entered; that constitutes burglary whether you steal anything or not.�
“Well, what are you going to do about it?�
“As I said before, we will let the detective decide about that, Mike. You’re in bad, if anybody should ask you. Who is the woman, Mike?�
“What woman?�
“The one we have already spoken about; the one who sent you here to-night. Who is she?�
“There isn’t any woman.�
“More lies.�
“Take it or leave it; it doesn’t make any difference to me.�
“No?�
“Not the slightest.�
“How long have you known Madge Babbington?�
“Aw, go chase yourself.�
Lynne was really very tired from the exertions he had undergone, and so he half closed his eyes and settled himself back among the pillows to rest until Nick Carter should arrive.
He had an idea, born of the experiences of the last hour, which he now decided to propose to the detective when they were together, and—well, something might come of it for the general betterment of conditions.
Thinking deeply upon it, he dozed, tired out as he was.
He forgot, for the time being, the propinquity of that other man whom he had captured so dexterously.
He forgot that the lynx-eyed gentleman from the Klondike was watching him narrowly, taking note of every breath he drew, and calculating the length of them in order to be made aware of the moment when Lynne should sleep.
Now and then while he watched, Lynne opened his eyes lazily, and then closed them again.
He had directed Thomas to wait at the door for the arrival of the detective, and he began, drowsily, to think that it was taking Nick Carter an unconscionably long time to get there.
Red Mike thought that the time was going all too swiftly for his purposes.
He was a dexterous fellow, was Red Mike.
His long experience as a gambler had softened his hands, and made them unusually pliable; they were small hands, too, for such a large man—for such a muscular individual as he was; and he possessed thatpeculiar utility of the joints which is described by the compound word double-jointed.
While he watched the now sleeping man, he was busily engaged with his wrist and fingers behind his back, and although the feat would have been impossible to a large percentage of men, he did succeed in twisting them so that he was enabled to reach the ends of the wire cord with which Thomas had bound him.
It was slow work at first, but he persisted, and—well, the moment came when the wire fell away from his wrists and his hands were free.
He did not attempt, just then, to free his ankles, too. There would be time enough for that, afterward; and besides, the risk of arousing the sleeper was too great.
But he got upon his feet, bound together side by side though they were; he succeeded in poising himself for an instant, and then with one mighty leap he propelled himself forward, his arms outstretched, his hands opened to seize upon the throat of the sleeping and exhausted man.
His fingers clutched Lynne’s throat, and tightened upon it.
Lynne struggled feebly, but with no avail against the great strength of Red Mike.
Then, just at the instant when the desperado would have finished the job so thoroughly begun, he heard the sound of voices from the lower hall of the house, for his ears had been acutely strained to catch such sounds, all the time.
With a last added squeeze of his fingers upon thatwhite throat, Red Mike sprang away from the bed, toward another door than the one by which Thomas had entered the room—toward the one, in fact, by which he had made his own entrance, for he had left a way open for retreat in case of necessity.
As he darted away from the bed his glance fell upon the automatic pistol, and he seized it and had reached the door before he remembered to be sorry that he had not stopped long enough to use it on Lynne.
Then another thought occurred to him, and he smiled grimly while he stood there at the door and waited.
He knew that the other door would be thrown open in a moment, and he expected that the person who would appear when that should happen, would be Nick Carter.
It was an opportunity not to be lost; one which, from his standpoint, was well worth waiting for.
And then the opportunity came.
The door he was watching did swing open, and a figure did appear in the aperture; and instantly the crang! crang! of the weapon crashed through the room.
The man in the doorway, his hand still upon the doorknob, fell backward, dragging the door shut after him, and with a laugh Red Mike turned the weapon upon the man on the bed and let drive two more bullets in that direction.
The four reports sounded more rapidly than one would care to count, and with the last one Mike disappeared beyond the door he had been holding open with his left hand while he fired the shots.
Even as that door closed behind him—and he locked it on the opposite side, for he had provided for that also before he entered the room at all—the other door was thrown violently open again, and Nick Carter leaped into the room; leaped across the figure of a man who was almost on the threshold, and who was trying even then to regain his feet.
The pungent, half-suffocating odor of smokeless powder was in the room, but there was no way of telling which way the would-be assassin had escaped from it, and Nick, perceiving that Carleton Lynne had raised himself upon the bed, and that there was blood upon one of his shoulders, showing that he had been wounded, sprang to him instead of giving immediate chase after the man who had fired the shots.
But Lynne was wearing that habitual smile of his by the time the detective got to him.
“It’s only a scratch,â€� he said. “Just a mere touch on the shoulder. Where——â€�
He paused. Thomas had entered the room holding one hand against his head, and it was stained like his own shoulder.
“Why, Thomas,� he said, “did he get you?�
“No, sir, but it was a close call, for all that. A mighty close call. Took the top off’n my left ear, sir, and the other bullet took some of the bark off’n me just above the ear. But I’m none the worse for it, sir.�
Nick, who had in the meantime been examining the wounded shoulder which proved to have received nomore than a flesh wound, and who was now binding the slight abrasion of the skin, asked:
“What was it all about, Lynne? Just a burglar, who——â€�
“More than that, Carter,� was the reply, before the detective could complete the question. “It was one of my old Klondike acquaintances; one who followed Carroll here, and who came here to-night to ask me for two million dollars. Gee, but I’m sorry he got away!�
“Who was he?—and what?â€�
“Red Mike, by name. He used to be called the Bad Man of Nome, once upon a time.�
“He came here to ask you for what?�
“Two millions, no less; and he as good as admitted that he was spurred to the effort by an old acquaintance of yours.�
“Do you mean—who do you mean, Lynne?â€�
“I refer to Mrs. Madge Hurd-Babbington,� was the smiling reply.
It was in the afternoon of the second day after the events related in the preceding chapters that Nick Carter, seated at his desk in his study in Madison Avenue, reached for the telephone in response to a ring upon it.
“Hello,� he said. “Who is it?�
“Am I speaking to Mr. Carter?� came the reply.
“Yes.�
“This is Thomas—confidential servant to Mr. Carleton Lynne,â€� said the voice at the other end of the telephone.
“Yes? Well, Thomas, what is wanted?�
“A strange thing has happened here, sir, and if it is possible I wish you would come to the house at once in the interest of Mr. Lynne.�
“Certainly; I can go there if he wishes me to do so, Thomas. Did he ask you to telephone to me?�
“No, sir; he is not here, sir; that is what the trouble is. He seems to have disappeared entirely within the last few hours. I am greatly troubled, Mr. Carter, else I would not have presumed to call upon you.�
The detective smiled to himself, then he replied:
“Thomas, I am greatly afraid that you are nervous. Your master has disappeared, you tell me?�
“Yes, sir.�
“Gentlemen do not disappear from their own houses at midday, Thomas. Tell me exactly what has happened, and I will determine for myself whether it is necessary for me to go there.�
“You know, sir, that Mr. Lynne has not been out of the house—scarcely out of his own room—since the events of the other night, when that Red Mike came here and so nearly murdered him?â€�
“And you also; yes.�
“Well, sir, he is gone now, and I do not know where he has gone.�
Nick Carter permitted himself to chuckle.
“Possibly he has become tired of being kept in the house against his will, and has taken advantage of a temporary absence on your part, has dressed himself quietly, and gone out for a walk.�
“I don’t think so, sir. I don’t think that.�
“Why not?�
“Because I know him so well that I am certain he would not do a thing like that. He is still so weak that he would not think of going out without me.�
“I’m not so sure about that,� replied the detective.
“I am, sir, if you will pardon me for saying so.�
“Oh, well——â€�
“I really think, sir, that you ought to come here if you can spare the time.�
“Oh, all right. I’ll be there inside of half an hour, Thomas.�
“Thank you, Mr. Carter.�
And so it happened that half an hour later Danny, the chauffeur, stopped the detective’s car before thedoor of the Lynne mansion, and Nick Carter, followed by Patsy, entered the big house.
Thomas, who had been on the watch for them, opened the door as they approached, admitting them at once; then he took their hats, and in silence led the way up the wide stairway to the second floor, and so into the sitting room of the suite that was devoted to the service of the last of the Lynnes.
“I thought it best to bring you directly to these rooms, sir,â€� Thomas said, addressing the detective. “I have not said a word to any of the other servants as yet. I have not even asked any questions of any of them, except general ones—enough to satisfy me that not one of them knows a thing about the going out of Mr. Lynne.â€�
“I am afraid, Thomas, that in this case you have been almost too discreet,� replied the detective. “Probably if you had asked a few direct questions, you would have found the reply to every question that troubles you now.�
“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t think so.�
“Well, tell me the story.� Nick glanced at his watch. “It is half-past four now. What time did you last see your master?�
“Shortly after noon, sir; between half-past twelve and one o’clock.�
“And then—he was where?â€�
“Seated in that chair, near the window. He had been reading. He was not dressed, save for his underclothing and a bath robe.�
“Well?�
“He rang for me, Mr. Carter. When I came into the room he directed me to assist him to dress. He put on his trousers, his shirt, slippers, and a smoking jacket. Then he sent me away, saying that was all. But as I was going out at the door, he called to me, and said:
“‘Thomas, I am expecting a caller—a lady. When she arrives you may let me know, and assist me down the stairs. I will receive her in the library.’â€�
“A lady?� said Nick.
“Yes, sir, that is what he said.�
“Well, what more did he say on the subject?�
“This: ‘According to the note I received, she should be here about half-past one, or two o’clock. Be on the watch for her, Thomas.’
“I assured him that I would be, sir, and left him. I have not seen him since that moment, and I have not——â€�
“Wait a moment. Don’t get ahead of your story.�
“No, sir.�
“Did the lady keep the appointment?�
“No, sir. There has been nobody here at all.�
“No caller of any description?�
“No, sir; nobody.�
“Are you quite certain of that?�
“I am absolutely positive—for two reasons.â€�
“What are they?�
“One is that I watched the door myself as Mr. Lynne had directed me to do; the other is that since I have discovered that he is not here, I have—very guardedly,of course—questioned the other servants who might have admitted any person.â€�
“Well?�
“Nobody has been here. Since half-past twelve o’clock to-day, until you arrived, there has been no summons at the door at all. I am positive of that.�
“Have you looked through the house? It is a big place. Mr. Lynne might have——â€�
“I have searched everywhere, sir. He is not in the house. Of that I am certain.�
“And no one saw him go out?�
“No, sir. I am the only person in the house who has seen Mr. Lynne at all to-day. I am his personal attendant, as you know. I wait upon him and look after his wants, and he has been so long accustomed to waiting upon himself that only his weakness from his recent illness permits that. He does not like to have any one else around him.�
“Yes, I have heard him say as much. Whose duty is it to attend to the door? How many servants are there in the house?�
“There are only four of us, sir: The housekeeper, the cook, the footman, and myself. The footman attends the door when the necessity arises, but we have had very few callers since we came here to live, as you are doubtless aware.�
“Yes.�
“You questioned the footman, you say?�
“Yes, sir. He was, during all that time, within sight of the front door, and within sound of the bell, for I had told him of the expected caller. No onecame, and he did not see Mr. Lynne. And I might add, Mr. Carter, that I was personally within sight and sound of the door and the bell, also, and that I neither heard nor saw anything.�
“There are two side entrances to the house, Thomas.�
“Both are locked and bolted on the inside, sir, and have been all the time.�
“There is the rear entrance, also.�
“Yes, sir; but to pass out from the house that way, Mr. Lynne would have been obliged to walk around by the cemented walk to the front of the residence in order to go upon the street. The gardener has been employed all day close to that walk, and he has seen nothing of Mr. Lynne. Besides—oh, well, sir, I am sure that he did not go out that way.â€�
“Still he may have done so, and gone to the garage.�
“No, sir. The chauffeur has been there all day. He has seen nothing of Mr. Lynne.�
The detective seated himself upon one of the chairs near at hand and looked long and earnestly into the face of the servant who was relating this remarkable tale. At last he said:
“Thomas, nine men out of ten, listening to your story, would accuse you of doing some deliberate lying, having been directed to do so by your master, who, for some reason chose to create this mystery; or having your own private and personal reasons for doing it.�