Not until the detective had tied Slack's hands, removed his weapons, a pistol and knife, and propped him against the wall, did he move away. After he had bathed his ankle with water found in the kitchen and satisfied himself that the sprain was not a bad one, Nick opened his batteries on his prisoner. "Slack," he said, more in sorrow than in anger, "this is a strange part for you to play. What has come over you? In San Francisco you were an honest man, a defender of law and order."
"Every man for himself! that's my motto," replied Slack sullenly.
"That is dodging the question. What have I ever done to you, that you should jump me?"
"You have stuck your nose into my concerns, that's what you have done," was Slack's savage outburst.
Nick looked at the man curiously.
"I think I understand," he said quietly. "You are under the thumb of Cora Reesey, otherwise Madame Ree. She has taken you into her good graces again. You came here to meet her. You find her gone, and you get the notion into your head that I am responsible for her disappearance. Well, you are wrong. I have had no dealings of any kind with Madame Ree since[72] her arrival in St. Louis. I had no hand in sending her away, and I don't know where she is. It is very evident, though, that she has given you the icy mitt."
Slack's face was a study while Nick was speaking.
"Do you mean to say that you have neither driven her, nor given a tip to the chief of police which has caused her to be driven from St. Louis?"
"I am not a liar," returned Nick coldly. "What I say goes with those who know me."
"I beg your pardon," said Slack humbly. "I have been a fool. I thought you had mixed up in my affairs—for I'm going to marry Madame Ree—and I made up my mind to get even."
"When did you arrive in town?"
"Yesterday. Cora was expecting me; had written me to come. I found her gone. I learned from a police officer of my acquaintance that you were here, and I at once connected Cora's disappearance with your presence."
"You saw me quite by accident, didn't you?"
"Yes. I have been laying for you all day. I hired these rooms, and my plan was to lure you here, jump you, and keep you a prisoner until I had found Cora, who might deal with you as she liked."
"You were not holding out an alluring prospect for me, Slack," said Nick dryly.
"I was mad, crazy," said Slack penitently. His manner since his fight with the great detective had undergone a complete change. He was no longer aggressive,[73] vindictive. The good in his disposition was coming uppermost. Nick saw that he was in condition for full confession, but to obtain it he took the least offensive way.
"See here, Slack," said he, in a friendly tone, "you will have reason to congratulate yourself over this affair of to-day. And it is due to your good luck that you did not meet Madame Ree on your arrival. She wrote to you to come, not because she loves you, but for the reason that she wanted help in an unlawful undertaking. Money is her passion. You ought to know that."
Slack winced slightly. Nick went on: "She may have revealed to you what her plans were, and she may have held out a bait which you swallowed. Now, without having seen her, without having interfered with her in the slightest degree, I know what her plans were, and my knowledge has come through events associated with the disappearance of John Dashwood and the suicide of Luke Filbon. If you have read the newspapers, you know something concerning these matters."
"I have read the papers, and I know what the public knows."
"Very well. Now I'll tell you something which the public does not know." Then Nick proceeded to lay bare the blackmailing scheme which Cora Reesey, alias Madame Ree, had concocted with Gabriel Leonard as the victim.
"If she got fifteen thousand dollars from Leonard,"[74] said Slack, with a black frown, "she has skipped the country."
"She got it, all right. I am entirely satisfied on that point."
"Then I'm sure in the soup," was Slack's desponding utterance. "She wanted me to come and help her out, but she has corralled the money without my assistance, and now she has no use for me."
"It looks that way, doesn't it? If she really meant to deal squarely with you, she would have written a letter after she had closed the deal with Leonard."
"That's right. I see it all now. I'm a double-distilled jackass." Then his face hardened and his eyes gleamed cruelly. "I may meet her some day," he said, "and if I do, I'll"—he clenched his hands—"I'll make her wish she had never been born."
After a pause, he added: "I know enough now to send her to prison."
Nick, taking counsel with himself, stepped forward and cut the cords which bound Slack's hand. "Now you may talk with more ease," he said.
"Thank you." Slack opened and shut his hands several times to get the blood in proper circulation, and then resumed his story: "I know what her hold on Leonard is, and it's partly sham."
Nick's eyes glistened.
"You assisted her in preparing it, didn't you?"
"Yes; and if you'll go easy with me on the bughouse break I made to-day, I'll tell you all about it."
[75]
"It's a whack," said Nick instantly.
"Then here goes: The claim she pretends to have on Leonard embraces bigamy and embezzlement. She well knew, if Leonard refused to come to her terms and she published what she held in her hand as alleged facts, that, though Leonard's reputation might suffer, he could never be proceeded against criminally."
The word "bigamy" brought a shadow to Nick Carter's face, for his mind reverted instantly to the fair, gentle daughter of Leonard, Mrs. John Dashwood. The shadow lifted before Slack had finished his narrative.
"Leonard, whose real name is Reesey, went to California in the early fifties," said Slack, "and while there married an Italian woman, a widow with one child. Her name was Massona. Shortly after her marriage with Reesey, and before the birth of her daughter, her husband embezzled the funds of a mining company, of which he was secretary, and skipped the State. Instead of returning to his former home in Ohio, he went to St. Louis, assumed the name of Leonard, and engaged in business.
"Years passed, and, perhaps believing his Italian wife to be dead, he married again. When Cora Reesey, his daughter by the Italian wife, reached womanhood, she discovered by secret inquiry that her father was alive and in St. Louis. But she died before she could make practical use of her knowledge. While on her sickbed she confided what she had discovered to her cousin and intimate friend, Lucia Massona. This cousin is an ad[76]venturess, a woman of surpassing beauty and an evil heart. She resolved to profit by what she had learned, and when she left the up-country mining town where her cousin had lived and died she took the name of the dead one, and, as Cora Reesey, appeared in San Francisco.
"In that city she laid her plans for blackmailing Gabriel Leonard. I, in my senseless infatuation for her, promised and gave assistance in preparing the proofs. I soon discovered that she had no criminal case against Leonard, for her aunt, Mrs. Reesey, had died three days prior to her husband's second marriage. This fact did not disconcert her, for she believed that Leonard did not know whether his Italian wife was alive or dead when he contracted his St. Louis marriage, and that the spurious documents which she had prepared would be accepted as genuine. The embezzlement matter, of course, was outlawed. But the threat to publish the facts would be sufficient, she thought, to bring him to terms.
"Cora went on to St. Louis after correspondence with Leonard, with the understanding that I was to follow on receipt of a letter which she promised to write soon after arrival here. The letter reached me five days ago, and I came on without an instant's loss of time. That is the story, Mr. Carter."
Nick looked at his watch.
"Time I was going," he said, and moved toward the door.
[77]
"Am I free to go, too?" asked Slack, in a respectful tone.
"Certainly you are. Take care of yourself, keep out of mischief, is all the advice I have to give."
"But," looking at the detective shyly, "I may meet Cora; she may throw her grappling-hooks on me again, and I may put her wise about you and what you know."
"I'll trust you," said Nick, with a smile.
"Sure you are not afraid I may fall down?"
"Not in the least, Slack. Good-by."
Nick limped out of the building, and half an hour later was in his room on Jefferson Avenue. Chick, to his satisfaction, was there to meet him. His face shone with excitement and pleasure. "Great news, Nick," he said. "I've located Leonard."
"Where is he?" Nick's face was now as bright as Chick's.
"In a big brick building used as a private sanatorium, beyond the southern limits of the city."
"Doctor Holcomb runs this sanatorium, doesn't he?"
"Yes," regarding the great detective in astonishment. "How did you know?"
"I obtained a list of Leonard's friends to-day, and among them, as the closest and most intimate of all, is the name of Doctor Holcomb. He was a mining partner of Leonard in California many years ago. I have been anxious to see you, Chick, so that I might put you on, but you have already done the trick. You are a wonder, Chick."
[78]
The young detective blushed with pleasure.
"The building is set in the middle of spacious grounds, and is well guarded. Its appearance excited my curiosity, and I made a few cautious inquiries before venturing near the main gate. I was made up as a hobo, as you know, and I was giving the guard outside the gate a fill about experiences on the road, when a closed carriage drove up and two men alighted. One I took to be Doctor Holcomb; the other, from your description, I identified as Gabriel Leonard. They did not notice me, and I slipped out of sight while the guard was opening the gate."
"I wonder where Leonard and the doctor had been?" said Nick thoughtfully. "Perhaps Leonard had been hiding out of the city, and had got a note to his friend, the doctor, and the doctor went to bring him to safer quarters."
"That's it, Nick, I'll bet."
"Is this sanatorium near the river?"
"Yes; the grounds extend to the levee. And now, what's the program? Shall we notify the chief, get a force of men, go out there, surround the place, and catch our man?"
"No. Such a move might spoil all. Leonard at bay might commit suicide. I want his confession. And I want something else. I have in mind a plan which, I think, will bring us victory. About this outside man at the sanatorium, is he an American?"
[79]
"No, a Swede, with long, fair hair, and whiskers to match."
"Are his duties confined to the outside?"
"It's turn about with the attendants. I learned this when I struck the Swede for a dime. He refused, and told me to tackle the man whose turn for outside duty would come to-morrow."
"'I tank he ban easy,' he said."
"Then the Swede is not easy. Therefore, he cares for money. But how to reach him? We don't even know his name."
"I know it," said Chick. "Doctor Holcomb called him Detson."
"Ah! now I see daylight. Go down-stairs and borrow a directory, Chick."
When the directory was before him, Nick turned to the D's and found two Detsons, one a spinster dressmaker, called Hannah, the other a hospital attendant, called Christian.
"Hannah is probably the sister, and lives on Locust Street. My ankle troubles me, or I would go over there myself."
"I'll go; it's only a few blocks," said Chick. "What shall I say to her?"
"If she proves to be Christian's sister, ask her how often she sees her brother, and when. Christian may have regular hours for visiting his sister. Perhaps he comes every day. I hope he does. In explanation of[80] your questions, say a friend of yours wishes to see her brother on important business."
Chick was gone an hour. When he returned he was whistling.
"Christian is the brother, all right," he said to Nick, "and he will be at his sister's this evening. Hours from eight to ten o'clock."
"Good. And did you learn anything about Christian's affairs, and family history, and so forth? I did not ask you to go into any such matters, for I knew you would take advantage of circumstances and get all there was coming to you."
"Say, she is a peach, Nick," returned Chick, enthusiastically. "A pretty, plump, flaxen-haired angel. Her brother is the apple of her eye. He is saving up money to send for the old mother in Sweden, and she is helping all she can. I hadn't been with her ten minutes before she was telling me the story of her life."
"Then the way is easy, Chick. Christian will jump at the chance of securing a neat sum in a lump. But he must first be assured that he will be doing a creditable thing. If he is on the square, as he probably is, from your account, I think I can convince him that in assisting me he is not only benefiting himself, but is also doing a commendable act."
The two detectives then put their heads together, conversing together earnestly until dinner-time came. That evening Nick had a long and satisfactory talk with Christian Detson.
[81]
"Dey ban some man ho would yump at dat chance," he said, at the end of the conversation, "but ay look bayfore ay do any yumpin'. Ay tank ay see where ay ban land vurst."
Late in the afternoon of the next day Doctor Holcomb received a new patient, a young man of powerful physique, who gave no trouble, for his mania was not a violent one. The certificate which his conductors, two well-known business men of St. Louis, presented set forth that he was suffering from acute dementia. His face was drawn, his eyes were lusterless, and his mouth gave a clicking sound, but no words came, whenever he was spoken to.
"I don't think there is any hope for him," said Doctor Holcomb to the men who had brought the subject, "for dementia such as he is afflicted with is generally the last stage before death. He may live a year, he may die in a month."
"I would ask," said one of the men, Major Haines, a lawyer, "that you do not confine him. He is of good family, and we are willing to pay well for his care. As you must know, from your experience with such cases, he is perfectly harmless. But he cannot take care of himself. He needs the attention that is given to a child. You need not give him the run of the grounds, though you might do so with entire safety, but I shall be pleased if he is given the run of the building, locking him up, of course, every night."
"There is no objection to such an arrangement," said[82] the doctor. "The attendants about will see that he does not get into trouble."
And so the matter was arranged which installed James Winters as an inmate of Doctor Holcomb's sanatorium.
For an hour after his entrance the demented patient sat upon the floor of one of the corridors and played with his hands. Attendants passed him without a glance, for they were used to such sights. At noon he was taken into a small room intended for his future use and given some soup and potatoes. Apparently, he did not know how to put the food into his mouth, and had to be assisted, as a babe newly weaned would have been.
About the middle of the afternoon, while he was in a small corridor, which, opening out of a larger one, terminated at the side wall, an attendant marvelously like the Swede Chick had accosted outside the gate the day before came up and spoke to him in a low voice.
"How does it go, Chick? Have you made any discoveries?"
"I know where Leonard's room is, Nick. He has been out of it twice to-day; once to see the doctor, and once to enter Room M, a few doors beyond his own. And how are you making out?"
"My task is harder than yours, Chick. My disguise is good. I have got the lay of the wards and rooms, and my duties are understood, thanks to Detson; but I have to dodge the other attendants whenever I can, for there is the possibility that some sharp eyes may spot the im[83]posture. We must, if possible, finish our work here within twenty-four hours. I'd like to have the round-up take place to-day."
"Do you anticipate any trouble?"
"No; Doctor Holcomb enjoys a good reputation, and I am satisfied that he will not interfere with the course of justice. Leonard is an old-time friend of his, and he has, without doubt, been imposed upon. He does not know, of course, that Leonard is suspected of murder. He is harboring his friend, but with the idea, I believe, that Leonard is simply dodging his creditors."
The sound of steps along the long, wide corridor stopped Nick Carter's talk with his assistant. Leaving Chick, the detective went forward, and saw Doctor Holcomb in the act of ascending the stairs to the second story. Half-way up he stopped, frowned, and then turned back. At the foot of the stairs his eyes fell on the person of the bogus Swede.
"Detson," he called out sharply, "I wish you would keep in sight. I have forgotten my instrument-case. Go to the office, tell my assistant to give it to you, and when you get it bring it to Room M."
"Ay tank ay ban go queeck," said Nick, and away he hurried to the office. Soon, with the case in his hand, he went up the stairs, found the room, knocked at the door with an impatience which he had much difficulty in repressing. Doctor Holcomb opened the door, and the detective tried to peer into the room. To his disappointment, he was unable to see more than the foot of a bed,[84] upon which some person was lying. The doctor received the instrument-case, uttered a curt "Thank you," and quickly closed the door.
Nick would have remained by the door, but a moment after it closed Gabriel Leonard opened the door of a room opposite the head of the stairs and came toward him. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were marks of suffering on his face. The detective passed him half-way to the stairs, but Leonard did not look at the pseudo Detson. With his head bent, he walked quickly to Room M, and entered without knocking.
Nick hastened down-stairs, saw Chick, and, seizing an opportunity when the corridor was clear, whispered a few rapid words. Chick nodded his head in comprehension, and, leaving the great detective, slouched along the corridor, mounted the stairs, and walked toward Room M. Once there, he sat down with his back against the door. He had been in that position about fifteen minutes, when conversation inside caused him to prick up his ears. He waited with every sense alert, and his heart beating at an unusual rate for ten minutes more; then, rising to his feet, flew, rather than ran, until he reached Nick.
"Well," said the great detective quickly, his curiosity on edge.
"You were right, then, Nick," said Chick, in a gasp. "The mystery will be solved in Room M. I have heard them talk. The last words of Leonard were: 'The hour has come. Now, good-by to St. Louis.'"