Gabriel Leonard, his guilt proclaimed, uttered a cry of despair, and, burying his face in his hands, sobbed like a child. There was pity in the expression with which Nick Carter regarded the detected murderer. That the crime had extenuating features he was positive. Leonard finally attained a fair degree of composure. He raised his head and looked at the great detective with what was intended for a smile, but which was a ghastly failure.
"You are a smart one," he said, with a little catch in his throat, "and I suppose, from a moral standpoint, you are to be congratulated upon what you have accomplished. But you would have better kept out of this case, for, though I killed that miserable wretch of a woman, she deserved death, and I was sorely tempted."
"How did it happen?" asked Nick.
"I might refuse to answer, now that I am under arrest," replied Leonard, "but I shall have but one story to tell if ever I am brought before the court for trial, and I am willing to tell it first to you. The woman struck John Dashwood, as I have previously stated. In fact, everything I told you up to the moment I arrived on the wharf to find her bending over Dashwood's pros[102]trate form is true. The story I told of the after-happenings on that wharf is not true.
"This is the truth: The woman gave me five thousand dollars, and the incriminating documents, and then taunted me with being a fool. She boldly declared that she was not my daughter—my supposed relationship had much to do with my acquiescence in her suggestions—and that she had played a fine trick on me. She said I was the easiest mark she had ever played with. She advised me to jump in the river and give the fishes a chance. We stood face to face. I had in my hand at the time the section of iron pipe with which she had cracked the skull of John Dashwood. I had picked it up for the purpose of throwing it into the river.
"Angered beyond endurance at her words and her expression, I struck her down. The blow killed her. When I realized what I had done, I threw the dead body into the river. I should have secured the fifteen thousand dollars in notes which she had thrust into her bosom, but I did not do so. I never thought of the money. My only thought was to remove the evidence of my crime. Then, when the waters of the Mississippi had closed over the body, I returned to John Dashwood. My movements from that time are known to you. Yes, I am a murderer, my daughter is disgraced, and I shall be hanged."
His forced composure vanished now. Giving way to his feelings, he shook like a reed. Suddenly his form[103] stiffened, he gave a gasping cry, and fell backward on the bed.
"Run for the doctor," said Nick quickly to Chick. "I will do what I can while you are gone."
Nick loosened Leonard's collar, and then procured a basin of water and bathed the stricken man's face. He was thus engaged when Doctor Holcomb arrived.
One look at Leonard, and he shook his head.
"Too late," was his comment. "He has been a sufferer from heart-disease for years. I have repeatedly warned him to avoid excitement. To-day's occurrences have brought on a fatal attack."
The doctor's words proved true. Leonard never recovered consciousness, and in half an hour he was dead.
For the purpose of carrying out a plan having for its object the happiness of Leonard's daughter, the wife of John Dashwood, Nick Carter took Doctor Holcomb into his confidence. To the proprietor of the sanatorium he told the whole story of the dead manufacturer's crime, and the circumstances connected therewith.
"Now, doctor," said the detective, "you have been Leonard's friend, and you will agree with me, I know, that no good can result from a publication in the newspapers of the fact that he committed murder. The woman is dead. Leonard is dead. Society has received its meed of protection. The living must be considered. It would break Letty Dashwood's heart if she were to learn what you and I know. Dashwood himself must be kept in ignorance of his father-in-law's crime. Let[104] John and his good wife live on in the belief that Leonard was what the moneyed world will believe him to have been, a man unfortunate in business, but not dishonest, not a criminal."
"You are right, Mr. Carter," said Doctor Holcomb. "The truth must be suppressed as a matter of charity. You may depend on me. But—can you stop the gossip that may come from an investigation of the woman's death?"
"I hope to be able to do so. The body was found a few miles below the city in a state that will likely prevent discovery of identity. The face was denuded of its flesh, and nearly all the clothing had been torn from the body. I was at the morgue when the body was brought in—I had been expecting that the find would be made—and, but for certain distinguishing marks which I was careful to notice when I met the woman in San Francisco, I should not have known whose body it was. She was almost a stranger in St. Louis, and I do not think there will be any identification."
As he spoke, Nick thought of Carroll Slack, but not with uneasiness, for on his way to the morgue that morning he had met Slack, who, with suit-case in hand, was hurrying to the ra............