QUICK WORK IS NECESSARY.
“Dead!”
The way in which Stone repeated the word gave a hint to the listener of
the grim hatred that possessed that demented brain.
There was a moment’s silence, then Follansbee’s voice came again.
“Above all, however,” he said, “remember that you must not be in a
hurry. Do everything deliberately and don’t get rattled for a moment.
There’s nothing to fear if you keep your nerve. Finally, don’t attempt
to carry out your—operations shall we call it?—until half past two.”
“Why should we wait? Why couldn’t we do it now?” Stone urged.
“If you were a medical man you would know why,” Follansbee answered
in his squeaking voice. “Between two and three o’clock in the morning
human life is at its lowest ebb. The flame of vitality burns more dimly
then than at any time during the twenty-four hours. That’s the answer,
and its application to this case ought to be apparent enough.”
Nick heard a movement, as though Doctor Follansbee had leaned forward
in his chair to drive his point home.
“You have waited months for this, Stone,” the peculiar voice went on,
“and an hour more or less can’t make any difference. Crawford will be
in a sound sleep at half past two, if he’s as normal as he seems to be,
and the low vitality which is natural at that hour will make him an
easy subject to handle; in other words, you will have the best chance
of successfully drugging him.”
The chair creaked again.
“You’re going now?” asked the miner.
“Yes. It’s much better that I should. My continued presence would
tempt us to talk, and we might disturb the man in the next room. You
don’t want to do that, you know. You want to find him as helpless as
possible when the time comes, so I’d advise you to keep as still as you
can. Don’t pace the room, or anything like that.”
“But I’m nervous as a cat,” objected Stone. “Who wouldn’t be?”
“I suppose you are,” Follansbee admitted, “but—here’s something to
quiet you. It will give you new courage, too. Just deposit this powder
on the end of your tongue and wash it down with a little water.”
There was a pause, and the detective suspected that the miner was
staring questionably at Follansbee. Stone’s next words confirmed it.
“You’re sure about this?” the man asked slowly. “It won’t hurt me or
keep me from doing what I’ve sworn to do?”
“Certainly not,” was the shrill response. “What do you take me for,
Stone? I’m in your pay, am I not? I must earn that forty-five thousand,
if I expect to enjoy it. Why should I try any tricks on you?”
“That’s all right—why should you?” Stone said more quietly. “I’ll take
it if it will fix me up in the way you say. Here goes!”
The detective outside held his breath. “Great Scott!” he thought. “I
wonder if Follansbee is putting up a job on him, too. He’d be quite
capable of it, but it doesn’t seem possible that he’s trying any such
tricks so early in the game. If he means to do anything of that sort,
I should think he would wait until Stone had killed his partner, or
had attempted to do so. To Follansbee’s certain knowledge, that would
give the latter a hold on Stone which Follansbee could use to advantage
before going any further. I may be mistaken about that, of course.
Follansbee does strange things, and may have something up his sleeve
which I don’t understand. There’s a chance that Stone is in grave
danger at this moment. I doubt it, though, and I’m afraid I can’t help
him if he is.”
Nick’s main concern was to protect Winthrop Crawford if possible. He
pitied Stone much more than he blamed him, because he knew that the
man was not responsible for his actions, but Crawford’s life was more
important than Stone’s, and a premature interference might spoil the
case that was developing against Doctor Follansbee.
“That will steady you,” he heard the specialist inform Stone. “I’m off
now, and remember that I shall be waiting for you in front of the bank
around the corner. I’ll have a car there in readiness at two-thirty.
I trust you told the hotel people that you would probably be away
to-night?”
“Yes, I arranged that. I didn’t see why it was necessary, but——”
Had the detective been able to look into the room, he would have found
that Follansbee was facing his man, but that Stone was not quick enough
to notice the cold flicker that came into the hard eyes. The detective
would have perceived it, though, had he been in a position to do so,
and would have jumped to the conclusion that the rascally physician
had a reason of his own for wanting Stone to join him as soon as the
dastardly crime had been committed.
“My reason is very obvious,” Follansbee declared in his thin, cackling
voice. “I want you to establish an alibi in case something unexpected
should happen.”
He thrust his face forward.
“You don’t want to be electrocuted, do you?” he demanded. “That would
be a poor sort of revenge on your partner.”
Nick heard the ex-miner draw a deep breath.
“Electrocuted!” came the deep, husky voice. “I don’t think I’d care for
that. They—they would send me to the chair, though, wouldn’t they, if
they found out?”
Follansbee knew better than that. He was aware that Stone would escape
any such fate owing to his mental condition, but it did not suit his
purposes to say so. “As sure as you’re alive!” he answered callously.
As he spoke, he turned to the window and started for it.
It was not the sound of his approaching footsteps that warned the
listener, however. Nick had already stiffened and drawn back as soon
as his ears caught the difference in Follansbee’s tones, caused by the
fact that the latter had faced about toward the window while in the act
of making his last remark.
The thin, stunted shadow of the head physician of St. Swithin’s was
already on the shade, and quick work was necessary on Nick’s part.