Nick breathed heavily. The end was approaching. Chick's information told him that. "We've got Leonard in a box," said Chick. "We can drop on him right now, if you say so."
"Now is not the time. We will wait until he comes out. Go up the stairs again, sit on the top step, and when Leonard enters his own room, let me know. If he does not go to his room, but comes down-stairs, follow him and inform me. I may be at the foot of the stairs when he leaves Room M. I shall try to be there. Now, go."
The approach of an attendant caused Nick to cut short his talk and walk slowly away.
Chick sat at the top of the stairs for nearly half an hour. Then Gabriel Leonard came out of Room M, and, with quick steps, hastened forward. He stopped near the stairs and stood for a few minutes looking, not at Chick, of whose existence he seemed to have no realization, but over and beyond him. Biting his lips nervously, he muttered: "I've got to go," and, turning, went to his room across the way. Chick noted with satisfaction that Leonard did not lock the door after entering the room. Nick stood at the foot of the stairs. Unobserved by Leonard, he had seen the manufacturer, and[86] knew that the time to strike had come. Up the stairs he went, and, walking over to Leonard's room, opened the door and stepped in. Chick followed, the door was closed quickly and the key turned in the lock.
Gabriel Leonard, sitting on his bed, glanced up when the two detectives entered, but without suspicion. But when the door was locked he sprang to his feel, a wild fear in his eyes.
"What does this mean?" he demanded harshly, though his lips trembled and his body was shaking.
"It is time the masks were discarded," replied the great detective soberly. "I am Nick Carter, and this is my assistant, Chick. We have been on your trail ever since the inquest. Now we have found you, what have you got to say for yourself? What do you know in reference to the disappearance of John Dashwood?"
The manufacturer's countenance was gray with terror when Nick began his speech, but at the close this expression had gone. He sighed, as if with relief, as the last word was spoken.
"I have laid myself open to suspicion," he said, as his wits began to return, "but the time for concealment has passed. I am now ready to tell the truth, and the whole truth, and"—his tone now became tinctured with acrimony—"when I shall have done so, I hope for some consideration at your hands."
"You shall receive what you are entitled to," returned Nick coldly. "I am not your enemy. I represent society, and I am the friend of John Dashwood."
[87]
Leonard's face brightened, in spite of the detective's words and tone. "Before I begin," he said, "I wish to ask one question. Did you, or the chief of police, or any of his officers, search my house the other day?"
"Yes."
"And found——"
"Found your correspondence with Madame Ree, five thousand dollars in notes, a portion of the money Filbon stole and which John Dashwood took away that night, and muddy trousers and a rust-stained handkerchief."
Leonard exhibited no surprise.
"I thought so," he said. "Then the whole story must be told."
"Yes," repeated Nick Carter, "the whole story must be told."
The manufacturer resumed his seat on the bed. Nick and Chick found chairs. Nick sat near the door, with his back to it. Chick sat on the other side of Leonard, and near the window.
"Well," began the manufacturer, "the whole trouble took a start when this woman, who called herself Cora Reesey, and my daughter, wrote her first letter from San Francisco. I was not afraid of the embezzlement matter, for I have paid up every cent I appropriated. I was young and reckless in my California days, but I repented when I grew older. But I did fear an arrest for bigamy, though God knows I thought I was a widower when I married my second wife here in St. Louis."
[88]
"And you were a widower," said Nick quietly. "I know it. Cora Reesey deceived you."
Gabriel Leonard's expression of astonishment at this statement was speedily succeeded by one of anguish. He licked his lips, and looked toward the wall with eyes contracted in pain.
"Deceived me, did she?" he muttered brokenly. "What a fool, what a fool I have been!"
Nick Carter's cool gaze recalled Leonard to the work of explanation which he had undertaken to do.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember."
He spoke with his eyes on the floor. The slight buoyancy with which he had begun his story was gone. His words now came slowly and gravely.
"I wrote to the woman that it might be well for her to come to St. Louis. She acted upon the suggestion and came. At our first interview she demanded fifteen thousand dollars as the price of her silence. I did not have the money. My affairs, within one week, had become badly involved. Some speculative ventures had proved utter failures. But all attempts to induce the woman to wait were unavailing. She did not believe me when I told her that I was on the brink of ruin, and she threatened that if I did not have the money on a certain night, to go the next day to a newspaper office, tell her story, and produce her vouchers. The night set for the payment of the fifteen thousand dollars was the night of the disappearance of John Dashwood."
Leonard ceased speaking, went to the water-cooler in[89] a corner, drew a glass of water, drank it, and then returned to the bed.
"I went up-town that night," he continued, "without any definite thought of what I should do. In front of the office the thought struck me that perhaps there might be sufficient money in the safe—receipts after banking-hours—to stop the woman's mouth for a few days. I had promised to meet her at midnight at her rooms in an apartment-house on Manchester Avenue. She had said that she would give me all day for the work of digging up the money, and the day would end at twelve o'clock. I went to the office, and, after opening the door and striking a light, saw by the open desk and the open books that some one, probably Filbon, had been there that evening.
"Upon one of the books lay a folded note addressed to me. It was from John Dashwood, and it informed me that I had been robbed and that Dashwood, having recovered the stolen money, twenty thousand dollars, had placed it in his pocket for safe-keeping. Imagine my feelings, if you can. Twenty thousand dollars! I did not think of my creditors then, but of Cora Reesey. Here was money with which I could pay her, silence her mouth forever. I must find Dashwood. He had gone to seek Filbon, who would probably be found at home. Hurriedly I left the office, found a car and got to Filbon's house, to discover that the lights were out. I went around the house softly, listened carefully at[90] doors and windows, but could hear nothing. I might have aroused Mrs. Filbon, but I did not think it would be of any use. Besides, I did not wish to disturb her, unless it should be absolutely necessary to do so.
"Why I walked toward the water instead of toward Broadway and the car-line I do not know. A hard fate controlled my movements"—he sighed heavily—"and I went to meet—trouble. On reaching the wharf I saw, at the water end, a man and a woman. Their backs were toward me and they were talking, the woman angrily, the man calmly, but firmly. The woman was Cora Reesey. The man John Dashwood. 'I tell you, Gabriel Leonard will approve,' I heard her say. 'He is a bigamist, and he promised to pay me the money to-night. You will be doing him a favor by handing it over to me.'
"'Before I do anything of the kind I must have an authorization,' Dashwood said, 'and so you will have to wait until to-morrow. I don't know what Mr. Leonard will do then, but I know what I would do if I were in his place. I would put you in jail for blackmail. I would defy you to do your worst.'
"'You would, would you?' she hissed, and then I saw her arm shoot out. There was a knife in her hand, and she struck to kill, but, owing to Dashwood's quick movement aside, only cut the flesh on his arm. But the force of the rush sent her forward past him, and her dress caught on a projecting broken piece of hoop on a[91] barrel, and she stumbled and fell, bringing the barrel with her.
"I was hurrying forward," Leonard went on, his voice now showing some animation, "when I saw her arise with some heavy substance in her hand. It was a section of old iron pipe, which was within sight and reach when she fell. Before I could get to her she struck John Dashwood, who was looking not at her but at me at the time, a powerful blow on the head. I got to the scene to find Dashwood lying senseless on the planking, and Cora Reesey busily engaged in searching his pockets for the bank-notes.
"At my approach she lifted her head. The notes were in her hand.
"'So it is you,' she said coolly. 'Very well, then, for I here make acknowledgment that I have received the money agreed upon as my price for keeping silent regarding certain events in your past life.'
"Without answering her, I bent over Dashwood and placed my ear against his heart. It was beating faintly. He might live. But I did not voice my hope to her. Instead, I said: 'You have killed him.' 'I don't care,' was her cold, heartless reply. 'And I am safe,' she added quickly, 'for you will not betray me. You dare not open your mouth against me, for if you do I will tell my story and denounce you as the murderer.'
"Again imagine my feelings. I could not do as I wished, for I was in this terrible woman's power. I said: 'Have no fear. I shall keep my lips closed.' 'Good,' was[92] her response; 'and for your discretion I will give you five thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand will suffice for me.' She counted out the money and handed it to me. I took the notes and put them in my pocket. Next she gave me the documents which she had obtained in California. These I examined by the aid of matches, and, finding them to be as represented, I tore them up and threw the pieces in the river. When the woman had gone, my first impulse was to hunt up a policeman, have the nearest station notified, and John Dashwood removed to the receiving hospital. But as I stood on the wharf my eyes fell on Luke Filbon's boat. I wished to escape, if possible, the notoriety with which I must be invested if the assault became public property; of the danger to which I might be subjected if John Dashwood died. The sight of the boat suggested a way to avoid publicity. I could take Dashwood down the river to my friend Doctor Holcomb's sanatorium. There he would be properly treated, and, while under treatment, I would be given time for arranging my affairs, preparatory to leaving St. Louis."
"And Dashwood?" asked Nick, as Leonard paused for a moment. "Is the danger-point passed?"
"Yes. The operation which restored his reason was performed this afternoon. He will live, he will have his mind. If you wish to see him, come with me."
Leonard arose. Nick removed his facial disguise, unlocked the door, and the three men passed out. They[93] entered Room M, to find Doctor Holcomb in the act of cleaning his instruments.
The room was large, and beyond the bed was a large operating-table. Upon it, his head propped by pillows, haggard and thin, but with the light of reason in his eyes, lay John Dashwood.