OUT OF DEATH'S SHADOW.
Nick breathed heavily. The end was approaching. Chick's information
told him that.
"We've got Leonard in a box," said Chick. "We can drop on him right
now, if you say so."
"Now is not the time. We will wait until he comes out. Go up the stairs
again, sit on the top step, and when Leonard enters his own room, let
me know. If he does not go to his room, but comes down-stairs, follow
him and inform me. I may be at the foot of the stairs when he leaves
Room M. I shall try to be there. Now, go."
The approach of an attendant caused Nick to cut short his talk and walk
slowly away.
Chick sat at the top of the stairs for nearly half an hour. Then
Gabriel Leonard came out of Room M, and, with quick steps, hastened
forward. He stopped near the stairs and stood for a few minutes
looking, not at Chick, of whose existence he seemed to have no
realization, but over and beyond him. Biting his lips nervously, he
muttered: "I've got to go," and, turning, went to his room across
the way. Chick noted with satisfaction that Leonard did not lock the
door after entering the room. Nick stood at the foot of the stairs.
Unobserved by Leonard, he had seen the manufacturer, and knew that
the time to strike had come. Up the stairs he went, and, walking over
to Leonard's room, opened the door and stepped in. Chick followed, the
door was closed quickly and the key turned in the lock.
Gabriel Leonard, sitting on his bed, glanced up when the two detectives
entered, but without suspicion. But when the door was locked he sprang
to his feet, a wild fear in his eyes.
"What does this mean?" he demanded harshly, though his lips trembled
and his body was shaking.
"It is time the masks were discarded," replied the great detective
soberly. "I am Nick Carter, and this is my assistant, Chick. We have
been on your trail ever since the inquest. Now we have found you, what
have you got to say for yourself? What do you know in reference to the
disappearance of John Dashwood?"
The manufacturer's countenance was gray with terror when Nick began his
speech, but at the close this expression had gone. He sighed, as if
with relief, as the last word was spoken.
"I have laid myself open to suspicion," he said, as his wits began
to return, "but the time for concealment has passed. I am now ready
to tell the truth, and the whole truth, and"--his tone now became
tinctured with acrimony--"when I shall have done so, I hope for some
consideration at your hands."
"You shall receive what you are entitled to," returned Nick coldly. "I
am not your enemy. I represent society, and I am the friend of John
Dashwood."
Leonard's face brightened, in spite of the detective's words and tone.
"Before I begin," he said, "I wish to ask one question. Did you, or the
chief of police, or any of his officers, search my house the other day?"
"Yes."
"And found----"
"Found your correspondence with Madame Ree, five thousand dollars in
notes, a portion of the money Filbon stole and which John Dashwood took
away that night, and muddy trousers and a rust-stained handkerchief."
Leonard exhibited no surprise.
"I thought so," he said. "Then the whole story must be told."
"Yes," repeated Nick Carter, "the whole story must be told."
The manufacturer resumed his seat on the bed. Nick and Chick found
chairs. Nick sat near the door, with his back to it. Chick sat on the
other side of Leonard, and near the window.
"Well," began the manufacturer, "the whole trouble took a start when
this woman, who called herself Cora Reesey, and my daughter, wrote her
first letter from San Francisco. I was not afraid of the embezzlement
matter, for I have paid up every cent I appropriated. I was young and
reckless in my California days, but I repented when I grew older. But
I did fear an arrest for bigamy, though God knows I thought I was a
widower when I married my second wife here in St. Louis."
"And you were a widower," said Nick quietly. "I know it. Cora Reesey
deceived you."
Gabriel Leonard's expression of astonishment at this statement was
speedily succeeded by one of anguish. He licked his lips, and looked
toward the wall with eyes contracted in pain.
"Deceived me, did she?" he muttered brokenly. "What a fool, what a fool
I have been!"
Nick Carter's cool gaze recalled Leonard to the work of explanation
which he had undertaken to do.
"Where was I? Oh, yes, I remember."
He spoke with his eyes on the floor. The slight buoyancy with which he
had begun his story was gone. His words now came slowly and gravely.
"I wrote to the woman that it might be well for her to come to St.
Louis. She acted upon the suggestion and came. At our first interview
she demanded fifteen thousand dollars as the price of her silence. I
did not have the money. My affairs, within one week, had become badly
involved. Some speculative ventures had proved utter failures. But
all attempts to induce the woman to wait were unavailing. She did not
believe me when I told her that I was on the brink of ruin, and she
threatened that if I did not have the money on a certain night, to go
the next day to a newspaper office, tell her story, and produce her
vouchers. The night set for the payment of the fifteen thousand dollars
was the night of the disappearance of John Dashwood."
Leonard ceased speaking, went to the water-cooler in a corner, drew a
glass of water, drank it, and then returned to the bed.
"I went up-town that night," he continued, "without any definite
thought of what I should do. In front of the office the thought struck
me that perhaps there might be sufficient money in the safe--receipts
after banking-hours--to stop the woman's mouth for a few days. I had
promised to meet her at midnight at her rooms in an apartment-house on
Manchester Avenue. She had said that she would give me all day for the
work of digging up the money, and the day would end at twelve o'clock.
I went to the office, and, after opening the door and striking a light,
saw by the open desk and the open books that some one, probably Filbon,
had been there that evening.
"Upon one of the books lay a folded note addressed to me. It was from
John Dashwood, and it informed me that I had been robbed and that
Dashwood, having recovered the stolen money, twenty thousand dollars,
had placed it in his pocket for safe-keeping. Imagine my feelings, if
you can. Twenty thousand dollars! I did not think of my creditors then,
but of Cora Reesey. Here was money with which I could pay her, silence
her mouth forever. I must find Dashwood. He had gone to seek Filbon,
who would probably be found at home. Hurriedly I left the office,
found a car and got to Filbon's house, to discover that the lights
were out. I went around the house softly, listened carefully at doors
and windows, but could hear nothing. I might have aroused Mrs. Filbon,
but I did not think it would be of any use. Besides, I did not wish to
disturb her, unless it should be absolutely necessary to do so.
"Why I walked toward the water instead of toward Broadway and the
car-line I do not know. A hard fate controlled my movements"--he sighed
heavily--"and I went to meet--trouble. On reaching the wharf I saw, at
the water end, a man and a woman. Their backs were toward me and they
were talking, the woman angrily, the man calmly, but firmly. The woman
was Cora Reesey. The man John Dashwood. 'I tell you, Gabriel Leonard
will approve,' I heard her say. 'He is a bigamist, and he promised to
pay me the money to-night. You will be doing him a favor by handing it
over to me.'
"'Before I do anything of the kind I must have an authorization,'
Dashwood said, 'and so you will have to wait until to-morrow. I don't
know what Mr. Leonard will do then, but I know what I would do if I
were in his place. I would put you in jail for blackmail. I would defy
you to do your worst.'
"'You would, would you?' she hissed, and then I saw her arm shoot out.
There was a knife in her hand, and she struck to kill, but, owing to
Dashwood's quick movement aside, only cut the flesh on his arm. But the
force of the rush sent her forward past him, and her dress caught on
a projecting broken piece of hoop on a barrel, and she stumbled and
fell, bringing the barrel with her.
"I was hurrying forward," Leonard went on, his voice now showing some
animation, "when I saw her arise with some heavy substance in her hand.
It was a section of old iron pipe, which was within sight and reach
when she fell. Before I could get to her she struck John Dashwood,
who was looking not at her but at me at the time, a powerful blow on
the head. I got to the scene to find Dashwood lying senseless on the
planking, and Cora Reesey busily engaged in searching his pockets for
the bank-notes.
"At my approach she lifted her head. The notes were in her hand.
"'So it is you,' she said coolly. 'Very well, then, for I here make
acknowledgment that I have received the money agreed upon as my price
for keeping silent regarding certain events in your past life.'
"Without answering her, I bent over Dashwood and placed my ear against
his heart. It was beating faintly. He might live. But I did not voice
my hope to her. Instead, I said: 'You have killed him.' 'I don't care,'
was her cold, heartless reply. 'And I am safe,' she added quickly, 'for
you will not betray me. You dare not open your mouth against me, for if
you do I will tell my story and denounce you as the murderer.'
"Again imagine my feelings. I could not do as I wished, for I was in
this terrible woman's power. I said: 'Have no fear. I shall keep my
lips closed.' 'Good,' was her response; 'and for your discretion I
will give you five thousand dollars. Fifteen thousand will suffice for
me.' She counted out the money and handed it to me. I took the notes
and put them in my pocket. Next she gave me the documents which she had
obtained in California. These I examined by the aid of matches, and,
finding them to be as represented, I tore them up and threw the pieces
in the river. When the woman had gone, my first impulse was to hunt
up a policeman, have the nearest station notified, and John Dashwood
removed to the receiving hospital. But as I stood on the wharf my
eyes fell on Luke Filbon's boat. I wished to escape, if possible, the
notoriety with which I must be invested if the assault became public
property; of the danger to which I might be subjected if John Dashwood
died. The sight of the boat suggested a way to avoid publicity. I could
take Dashwood down the river to my friend Doctor Holcomb's sanatorium.
There he would be properly treated, and, while under treatment, I would
be given time for arranging my affairs, preparatory to leaving St.
Louis."
"And Dashwood?" asked Nick, as Leonard paused for a moment. "Is the
danger-point passed?"
"Yes. The operation which restored his reason was performed this
afternoon. He will live, he will have his mind. If you wish to see him,
come with me."
Leonard arose. Nick removed his facial disguise, unlocked the door, and
the three men passed out. They entered Room M, to find Doctor Holcomb
in the act of cleaning his instruments.
The room was large, and beyond the bed was a large operating-table.
Upon it, his head propped by pillows, haggard and thin, but with the
light of reason in his eyes, lay John Dashwood.