"Bested by a woman?" repeated Nick, in surprise. "How was that, Patsy?"
"You have read of tiger cats, haven't you? Well, this woman was one. She is a little beauty, black-haired, black-eyed, slender, supple, and sinuous, and, oh, my! but her muscles are steel! I am no jellyfish myself, but she waltzed away with me, all right.
"This is how it happened, Mr. Carter: After I'd made sure that you wouldn't croak from that tumble I rushed around the corner of the house after Mr. Mannion. He was going through the garden—a regular tangle of all kinds of bushes—and I skinned after him. As he went over the fence into the next street this woman—she's a young thing, not over eighteen—hailed him and he stopped. But not for long, for, catching sight of me, he left the woman and made a lightning sprint toward the woods. Over the fence I went, to fall into the arms of the woman. She was very affectionate, must have thought I was her long-lost brother, for she caught me around the neck and gave me a hug and a squeeze that would have made a young grizzly bear fall down with envy. Naturally I objected, but I couldn't be as forcible in my objection as I might have been under other circumstances, for I was dealing with a woman."
[160]
Nick smiled and Chick winked.
"First thing I knew she tripped me up. I wasn't looking for that sort of thing, you know, and it was only when my block bumped the ground that I realized that I was really up against a tough proposition. What did I do? Well, I had to throw her off, but tiger cats are hard customers to deal with. They are like rubber balls. You chuck them away and back they come. I am ashamed to say it, Mr. Carter, but I wasted ten minutes with that woman and only got away from her when she was quite willing that I should do so."
"Who is she?" inquired Nick.
"Give it up. She knows Mannion, though, and I'll bet a Swiss cheese against a plate of boarding-house hash that she knows where Mannion has gone."
"Did you follow her?"
"I couldn't."
"Couldn't? Why not?"
"Because she did not give me a chance. She's standing there by the fence now, for all I know to the contrary. I wanted to follow her, but she knew what was in my mind, of course, and so she never moved."
"Did she say anything?"
"Oh, yes," said Patsy, rather sheepishly. "She said: 'Run home, little boy. Your mother must be anxious about you.'"
Chick burst into a laugh. Nick looked at him in mock severity. Patsy frowned and repressed an inclination to say something forcible.
[161]
"And so you lost track of your man, Patsy?" said the great detective.
"Yes, sir. I went into the woods, that is, the wooded grounds of the War College, but could neither get sight of him nor find anybody who had seen him. I told my story to the officer in charge, and men were instantly detailed to make a search."
"And that's all, eh?"
"That's all."
"And it is well, Patsy. You have done all that could have been expected." Nick patted the boy on the back. "You have not made a winning, it is true, but it was not on account of any fault of your own. Now," turning to Chick, "have you anything to report?"
"Only this: I know where the woman who attacked Patsy holds out."
"At Craven's, on L Street, isn't it?" suggested Nick quietly.
"Sure. But how did you discover the fact?"
"By a process of reasoning beautiful in its simplicity. The girl was seen near Craven's house. Craven knows Mannion and had a conversation with him the day of the murder. Craven will neither tell what that conversation had reference to, nor what his relationship with Mannion is. It is not a criminal relationship. I assured myself of that when I talked with Craven yesterday. The advent of the girl near Craven's house, her acquaintance with Mannion suggest a story which is probably true. She lives at Craven's because she is Craven's[162] daughter, and both she and Craven are interested in Mannion, because she is Mannion's wife."
"You've hit it," said Chick, with admiration in his eyes.
"If she is Mannion's wife," remarked Patsy, "he caught a Tartar when he married her. But maybe she is only his sweetheart."
"No," said Nick, "for that relation would not explain Craven's conduct. Craven might consent to shield a villainous son-in-law, but he would take the opposite course if there were only an engagement to be married. I think I'll make another trip to the Craven establishment. I have a desire to see the girl as well as to have a second talk with Craven." The detective looked at his watch. It was five o'clock. "I'll start now," he announced, "and have dinner after my return. Chick, you and Patsy may as well come along. Not to go inside the house with me, but to stay outside on watch. The girl may take a notion to run out to Mannion's hiding-place. If she does, Chick, you will follow her."
Prosper Craven, pale, yet composed, opened the door of his house in response to Nick Carter's knock. "I have been expecting you," he said, when the detective had entered the living-room and had taken a seat. "I knew you would not be satisfied until you had learned what my attorney had advised."
"You have seen him, then?" said Nick.
"No, I have not seen him. I came to the conclusion,[163] after you left yesterday, that I would hide nothing from you. I think the telling of the truth may be the best thing for my daughter, after all."
"Your daughter is Mannion's wife, is she not?"
Craven, showing surprise at this question, quietly answered: "Yes, she is married to that scoundrel."
"When did the marriage take place?"
"In San Francisco, two months ago. My daughter was then on a visit to her aunt. She and Mannion met at a Mission Club dance one night and took a shine to each other. Perhaps the discovery that they were both natives of Washington may have hastened the intimacy."
"Did she accompany her husband to this city?"
"No, she came as far as St. Louis with him. ............