“THE MAN WHO NEVER LETS GO.”
If Winthrop Crawford had been startled before, he was dumfounded now.
“Great guns!” he ejaculated, rising up again and planting his hands
on his knees. “Is it possible that you think the fellow is capable of
trying to kill Jimmy, too?”
“He’s capable of anything, Crawford, if he thinks it is safe. Figure
it out for yourself. A demented man comes to him and gets into
his power. Follansbee tempts him to unburden himself and makes a
criminal proposition. He agrees directly or indirectly to lend the
aid of his science for the carrying out of his patient’s murderous
grudge in return for a substantial fee—twenty-five or fifty thousand
dollars, let us say. Incidentally he learns that his patient has been
named as the chief beneficiary in the will of the man whose doom is
sealed. He naturally itches to get hold of that fortune, or a large
part of it, and plots to do so. That’s the next step. But there are
others—inevitable ones.
“To the best of his knowledge,” the detective went on, “his poor,
misguided tool carries out his instructions, and inoculates the other
man with the active principal of some dread tropical disease. So far,
so good—or so bad. What comes next? Why, the logical development, of
course. The unscrupulous doctor has schemed in one way or another to
benefit by the victim’s death, and now when that seems to be provided
for, he realizes how completely the man who has actually done the deed
is under his thumb.
“His patient is practically a murderer, and, as such, liable to be
blackmailed to the limit. Also, the man’s brain is unbalanced, and
that makes it possible to work upon his fears in an unusual way. Why
should such a man have nearly a million in the bank? Can he enjoy it
to the full with the specter of remorse always at his elbow? Couldn’t
somebody else—the doctor, for instance—get a lot more out of that
money? The answer is a foregone conclusion; but there’s another
consideration as well. The doctor has an accomplice whom he cannot
trust because of that same mental instability. An insane man is proud
of his crimes, and likes to boast about them. He does so without any
sense of responsibility. But that would never do in this instance, for
such boasting would be almost certain to involve the doctor himself.
Therefore, to the latter’s mind, there would be an additional reason
for getting rid of his patient-accomplice. An additional fortune on
the one hand—as a result of a little more clever manipulation—and the
prevention of indiscreet blabbing on the other. Can you doubt the
outcome?”
Crawford seized Nick’s arm excitedly. “You’re right!” he agreed. “Jimmy
isn’t safe for a moment while he’s in that fiend’s clutches. Where is
he now?”
“I don’t know,” the detective admitted. “He went away with Follansbee
after giving you the injection. It was impossible for me to follow at
the time; besides, I was altogether too uneasy in mind about you. I
realized that your partner might be running into danger, but up to that
time it had not come to me so forcibly as it did since. Even if it had,
however, I should still have felt that my first duty was to you, and
that your safety was more important.”
“No, no!” cried the miner, gripping Nick’s arm until it ached. “You’re
wrong there! My life is nothing to me compared with Jimmy’s safety.
Hasn’t he come back yet?”
“I don’t think so. He hasn’t been in his room, at least.”
“Then there isn’t a moment to lose. Good heavens, this is maddening!
Something terrible may have happened to him. We may be too late.”
“Calm yourself,” the detective advised kindly. “I don’t think you need
fear any immediate danger. Follansbee uses subtle methods in order to
cover his tracks, and subtle methods take time.”
“That may be, but I cannot have a moment’s peace until Jimmy is found
and wrested from that devil’s influence. I’ll dress at once, and——”
“Go ahead,” Nick interrupted, getting up from the bed. “You mustn’t
think of taking a hand in this, though.”
“But I must, man—for Jimmy’s sake. You admit yourself that you let him
go off with that rascal without lifting a hand.”
“That’s true, but if you feel this way about it, I’ll consider him
first hereafter. You can’t take part in it in person, though. I must
insist upon your keeping out of it. Remember your position, Crawford.
You’re supposed to have been infected by that injection, and you’re
also supposed to know nothing about it. You can’t admit any knowledge
of the hypodermic without letting the cat out of the bag and putting
Follansbee on his guard against me.”
“That’s true,” murmured the miner. “I was forgetting that. What can I
do, then?”
“You’ll have to keep your hands off and trust me to manage the affair.”
“I will, if you’ll promise not to have Jimmy locked up, if you can
possibly avoid it; and, above all, not to charge him with this latest
mad attempt against my life. As I told you before, nobody else is in
any danger from him. I’m sure of that, and I’m still willing to take
any risk in order to shield him, even after what happened last night.
If you can get him away from Follansbee, and put him in the care of
some conscientious physician—some one who won’t hustle him off to an
asylum the first thing—I shall be satisfied.”
The detective smiled grimly. “That’s all very well,” he said; “but what
about Follansbee? Don’t you realize that if we let one of them off,
both will necessarily go free?”
“I suppose so,” confessed Crawford. “I’d give anything to see that
scoundrel get all that’s coming to him, but you understand my position.
I can’t and won’t consent to sacrifice my old partner for the sake of
punishing his accomplice. That’s out of the question. Follansbee is as
dangerous as they make them, I’ll admit, but I’m afraid you’ll have to
find some way of getting around it—of reaching him without involving
Stone.”
“You make my task a very hard one,” Nick told him gravely. “In the face
of such a condition, Follansbee seems to be beyond reach; but perhaps
he isn’t. We’ll have to wait and see. He may make a false step before
we get through, and if he does——”
He did not finish the sentence, but the way in which he said the words
boded no good to Doctor Stephen Follansbee. Crawford had only to look
at the detective at that moment to realize why Nick Carter was called
“the man who never lets go.”