A FAIR FOE.
The detective followed the young man until he lost him beyond the doors
of a well-known café, and then he turned away.
Nora, alias Mag Maginnis, had ended her life in the cold waters of
the river, and the detective believed that Claude Lamont was morally
responsible.
“Now for another visit to the lion’s den,” said Carter, as he made
his way to another part of the city and rang the bell attached to the
millionaire’s mansion.
It was not the hour for a social call, but he found the money king at
home. He had not forgotten his former visit, when he was faced by the
daughter and warned not to carry his hunt too far.
Carter still saw the fine figure of the girl before him and her
flashing eyes, but she had not deterred him.
He was shown at once to the library, and Perry Lamont turned his chair
so as to face the detective.
“What is it, sir?” he asked.
Before Carter could reply the door opened and the daughter, Opal, came
in.
Opal Lamont was handsome, with a fine figure and a bright face; but her
eyes seemed full of fire, and unnatural fire at that.
Spying the detective, she advanced haughtily and faced him.
“Are you going to hold an interview with this man?” she asked her
father.
“I presume he is here to see me.”
“I’ll remain,” answered Opal, and the next moment she dropped into a
chair and turned her face to the detective.
Her manner was positive, if not insulting, and the detective swallowed
it mutely.
Perry Lamont seemed rejoiced to have his daughter beside him.
It made him look triumphantly at Carter, and for a moment a smile of
victory appeared at his mouth.
“Now, sir, we’ll proceed,” he said. “Your mission here you can make
known and we will listen.”
“You remember that I am on the trail of the person who killed Mother
Flintstone?”
“I remember.”
“You remember, too, begging the young lady’s pardon, that the old lady
was your near kin.”
These words were like a spark to a magazine, and the next moment Opal
broke forth:
“It’s the same old blackmailing scheme, father. You shall not listen to
it.”
“Calm yourself, Miss Lamont----”
“I am calm enough now. You shall not introduce such subjects in
this house. We do not recognize the old hag who was killed, perhaps
righteously, in the place called Hell’s Kitchen. You must talk about
another matter if you want to remain here.”
Perry Lamont looked crushed and almost helpless in his chair.
He glanced at his daughter, and then toward the door leading into the
hall.
“Where’s Claude?” he asked.
“He is not in just now,” answered Opal.
“No, sir,” put in the detective. “Your son just now is not in; but I
could enlighten you as to his whereabouts.”
“You’ve been playing spy, have you?”
“I’ve been following the trail of one who has been your brother’s
friend, miss.”
Opal Lamont colored and for half a second remained silent.
“It is blackmail all the same,” she resumed at last. “In the first
place, whatever that old woman was to us we don’t intend to be bled.”
“I believe you once offered me ten thousand dollars not to pursue this
trail, miss.”
“I did it for his sake,” and she nodded toward her father. “I don’t
want his nerves shattered.”
The detective glanced at Perry Lamont and pitied the abject old figure
in the chair.
“They looked alike,” was all he said, with a glance at Miss Opal.
The daughter curled her lip and looked away.
“Never mind,” she said. “My day will come, Mr. Detective.”
Carter turned once more to the millionaire and said:
“I’ll state my business. I am here to ask you about that contract.”
Lamont started.
“What contract?” he asked.
“The one you made with your son.”
There was a cry and a sudden start, and the millionaire nearly fell
from his chair.
“I made no contract!” he cried.
“None whatever?”
“None!”
“You did not promise him a large sum if he would put a certain person
out of the way?”
“I did not.”
“That’s blackmail, pure and simple,” flashed Opal Lamont. “You cannot
succeed.”
She arose and crossed the room.
Perry Lamont seemed to grovel in his chair.
“You deny the contract, do you?” queried the detective.
“I do.”
“He never lies!” exclaimed the girl.
“And never forgets, eh?”
“Never!”
“Then his mind is greatly at fault this minute. Let me ask another
question.”
“Not another one! He has been questioned enough. Don’t you see you have
excited him?”
“Not so much but that he can answer intelligently. Perry Lamont, your
sister did not die heirless.”
“My God!”
“She left some of her blood behind. She did not pass out of the world
at the hand of the assassin without leaving behind some one who has a
right to her name!”
The look of the millionaire became a stare, and his hand shook as he
laid it upon the desk before him.
“Come!” cried Opal. “Must we really buy your silence?”
“It is not in the market, miss, as I have once told you. I want to
reach the solution of this terrible crime. I shall not turn from the
trail till I am at the end of it. Mother Flintstone’s blood calls for
revenge, and----”
Opal, who stood beside her father, leaned over him and whispered in his
ear.
The old man’s face brightened.
“Not another word till I come back,” continued the girl to her parent,
and with this she left the room.
Two minutes later her steps were heard at the door across the room and
once more she stood before Nick.
In that short time she had gowned herself for the street, and, stepping
to one side, she touched a button.
“We are going out,” said she, looking at the detective. “I have just
ordered the carriage.”
The detective looked amazed.
Going out with that girl?
The turn of affairs actually amused him.
“I want you to accompany me to a certain place,” continued Opal Lamont.
“We shall not be there long; but you must go with me.”
The detective consented, and in a few moments they entered the carriage
which had come to the front door.
Opal had drawn a spotted veil over her face and had fallen back into
the depths of the vehicle saying nothing, although addressed by the
detective.
The coachman seemed to know where to go.
Carter had not heard the girl give him any orders, but he turned corner
after corner, as if his destination was plain to him.
For at least ten minutes the vehicle bounced over the stones, and then
it halted in front of a two-story brick house in the lower part of
Gotham.
The detective looked out, and took in the contour of the house, and
Opal opened the door of the cab.
“We’re here,” she said, speaking for the first time since leaving
home, and in a moment she dismounted, to be followed by the nonplused
detective.
The millionaire’s daughter led the way up the steps, and with a key
opened the front door.
As she threw it back she motioned to the detective to enter, and Carter
soon stood in a fireless parlor darkened by heavy curtains at the
windows.
“I’ll see you in a moment,” said Opal, rushing toward the door, and the
detective heard the sound of leather and silk on the stairs.
“This is a queer adventure,” thought Carter. “This must be one of the
many houses Perry Lamont owns. The young woman is a cool-headed thing
and seems to have the nerves her father has lost. Why has she brought
me to this place? What new mystery is this? Ah! here she comes!”
There were footsteps in the hall, and the detective watched the door.
But the sounds did not seem to come all the way down the flight; they
appeared to stop midway, and the detective glanced up at the open
transom.
The sight he saw there riveted him to the spot.
Leaning over the banisters was Opal Lamont, but how changed.
Her face was as white as a sheet, and her lips were welded like pieces
of steel.
The hat had been discarded, and her long hair fell in uncombed masses
over her shoulder.
The girl looked like an avenging spirit, and the detective thought he
had never seen a face just like hers.
The whole thing appeared more visionary than real; it seemed some
hideous dream in which he was to be the victim, but that it was
terrible reality the detective soon discovered.
The lips sprang apart suddenly, and Nick heard the voice of the
creature on the stairs.
“I hardly expected to trap you so easily,” she said, in sharp,
triumphant tones. “You fell into the snare like a tenderfoot. Did you
think I was about to reveal something to you? Your time has come! I
hold death in my hand, and I haven’t practiced at the pistol galleries
for nothing.”
Carter saw the revolver which Opal Lamont thrust forward; he tried to
spring to the door, but some unseen agency seemed to root him to the
carpet. Then came a flash, leaping tigerlike through the transom, as it
seemed--then darkness.