Crisply, cuttingly, the words came from Nick Carter’s lips, and Follansbee wheeled on him in a flash.  
“It was no fault of Follansbee that you did not carry out the vile scheme his cunning brain had devised,” Nick went on. “I was fortunately able to thwart him and to thwart your irresponsible aims of the moment at the same time.”
 
Then, in quiet tones, the detective told the whole story, which was listened to in a breathless silence by the others.
 
 
“At this moment,” the detective concluded, “Winthrop Crawford is perfectly well, and is looking forward eagerly to meeting his old friend again.”
 
“You—you mean that he forgives me?”
 
“I do,” was the reassuring answer. “He has forgiven you again and again because he knew you were not yourself, and because he’s one man in ten thousand.”
 
Stephen Follansbee’s sharp voice cut in. “This is all very interesting,” he said sarcastically, “but you will oblige me, Carter, by unlocking that door and letting me go my way.”
 
The two men measured glances for a moment.
 
“Do you imagine that you have sufficient evidence against me?” Follansbee went on cynically. “If you do, you’re destined to meet with a shock. Don’t forget that you may have to bring both of these men into it along with me, especially Stone—for, by your own statement, it was he who attempted to kill his partner.”
 
The detective turned to Stone.
 
“A check signed by you for the sum of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, payable to this man, was presented at the bank yesterday, and cashed. Do you know anything about it?”
 
The miner lifted his head.
 
“No, no! I made out a check, but it was only forty-five thousand. That was bad enough, but—what day is this?”
 
“This is Sunday, the twenty-sixth,” Nick answered.
 
“Then my check cannot have been cashed,” Stone said, with a great sigh of relief. “You must be mistaken, for I distinctly remember that I dated it the twenty-seventh.”
 
“In that case, Mr. Stone,” said Nick, “you have a chance of getting even with this fellow. I made no mistake in saying that he cashed a check for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars yesterday, but it was dated the twenty-fifth. Circumstances have conspired with his own cunning to save him from the charge of being an accessory to a murder, but he won’t find it so easy to avoid the consequences of this other crime. We can’t accuse him of forgery, because the signature is evidently yours, but we can make out a complete check-raising case against him without the slightest trouble. A peculiar kind of ‘disappearing ink’ was used. I’ve already brought out your original writing in one place, Stone, and I can bring out all of it by the same process. That will doubtless corroborate you as to the amount and date—and Stephen Follansbee will come off his perch.”
 
The famous specialist gave a peculiar strangled sound in his throat and his hands dropped to his side.
 
“You’ve won, Carter,” he said, his voice quavering. “I&rsquo............