CRAVEN SPEAKS AND NICK ACTS.
"Bested by a woman?" repeated Nick, in surprise. "How was that, Patsy?"
"You have read of tiger cats, haven't you? Well, this woman was one.
She is a little beauty, black-haired, black-eyed, slender, supple, and
sinuous, and, oh, my! but her muscles are steel! I am no jellyfish
myself, but she waltzed away with me, all right.
"This is how it happened, Mr. Carter: After I'd made sure that you
wouldn't croak from that tumble I rushed around the corner of the house
after Mr. Mannion. He was going through the garden--a regular tangle
of all kinds of bushes--and I skinned after him. As he went over the
fence into the next street this woman--she's a young thing, not over
eighteen--hailed him and he stopped. But not for long, for, catching
sight of me, he left the woman and made a lightning sprint toward the
woods. Over the fence I went, to fall into the arms of the woman. She
was very affectionate, must have thought I was her long-lost brother,
for she caught me around the neck and gave me a hug and a squeeze that
would have made a young grizzly bear fall down with envy. Naturally I
objected, but I couldn't be as forcible in my objection as I might have
been under other circumstances, for I was dealing with a woman."
Nick smiled and Chick winked.
"First thing I knew she tripped me up. I wasn't looking for that sort
of thing, you know, and it was only when my block bumped the ground
that I realized that I was really up against a tough proposition.
What did I do? Well, I had to throw her off, but tiger cats are hard
customers to deal with. They are like rubber balls. You chuck them away
and back they come. I am ashamed to say it, Mr. Carter, but I wasted
ten minutes with that woman and only got away from her when she was
quite willing that I should do so."
"Who is she?" inquired Nick.
"Give it up. She knows Mannion, though, and I'll bet a Swiss cheese
against a plate of boarding-house hash that she knows where Mannion has
gone."
"Did you follow her?"
"I couldn't."
"Couldn't? Why not?"
"Because she did not give me a chance. She's standing there by the
fence now, for all I know to the contrary. I wanted to follow her, but
she knew what was in my mind, of course, and so she never moved."
"Did she say anything?"
"Oh, yes," said Patsy, rather sheepishly. "She said: 'Run home, little
boy. Your mother must be anxious about you.'"
Chick burst into a laugh. Nick looked at him in mock severity. Patsy
frowned and repressed an inclination to say something forcible.
"And so you lost track of your man, Patsy?" said the great detective.
"Yes, sir. I went into the woods, that is, the wooded grounds of the
War College, but could neither get sight of him nor find anybody who
had seen him. I told my story to the officer in charge, and men were
instantly detailed to make a search."
"And that's all, eh?"
"That's all."
"And it is well, Patsy. You have done all that could have been
expected." Nick patted the boy on the back. "You have not made a
winning, it is true, but it was not on account of any fault of your
own. Now," turning to Chick, "have you anything to report?"
"Only this: I know where the woman who attacked Patsy holds out."
"At Craven's, on L Street, isn't it?" suggested Nick quietly.
"Sure. But how did you discover the fact?"
"By a process of reasoning beautiful in its simplicity. The girl was
seen near Craven's house. Craven knows Mannion and had a conversation
with him the day of the murder. Craven will neither tell what that
conversation had reference to, nor what his relationship with Mannion
is. It is not a criminal relationship. I assured myself of that when
I talked with Craven yesterday. The advent of the girl near Craven's
house, her acquaintance with Mannion suggest a story which is probably
true. She lives at Craven's because she is Craven's daughter, and both
she and Craven are interested in Mannion, because she is Mannion's
wife."
"You've hit it," said Chick, with admiration in his eyes.
"If she is Mannion's wife," remarked Patsy, "he caught a Tartar when he
married her. But maybe she is only his sweetheart."
"No," said Nick, "for that relation would not explain Craven's conduct.
Craven might consent to shield a villainous son-in-law, but he would
take the opposite course if there were only an engagement to be
married. I think I'll make another trip to the Craven establishment.
I have a desire to see the girl as well as to have a second talk with
Craven." The detective looked at his watch. It was five o'clock. "I'll
start now," he announced, "and have dinner after my return. Chick, you
and Patsy may as well come along. Not to go inside the house with me,
but to stay outside on watch. The girl may take a notion to run out to
Mannion's hiding-place. If she does, Chick, you will follow her."
Prosper Craven, pale, yet composed, opened the door of his house in
response to Nick Carter's knock. "I have been expecting you," he said,
when the detective had entered the living-room and had taken a seat. "I
knew you would not be satisfied until you had learned what my attorney
had advised."
"You have seen him, then?" said Nick.
"No, I have not seen him. I came to the conclusion, after you left
yesterday, that I would hide nothing from you. I think the telling of
the truth may be the best thing for my daughter, after all."
"Your daughter is Mannion's wife, is she not?"
Craven, showing surprise at this question, quietly answered: "Yes, she
is married to that scoundrel."
"When did the marriage take place?"
"In San Francisco, two months ago. My daughter was then on a visit to
her aunt. She and Mannion met at a Mission Club dance one night and
took a shine to each other. Perhaps the discovery that they were both
natives of Washington may have hastened the intimacy."
"Did she accompany her husband to this city?"
"No, she came as far as St. Louis with him. He had some business to
transact in that city, he said, which would occupy his time for a few
weeks. It was at his suggestion that she made the remainder of the
journey alone. Now I am ready to answer any question which you may
desire to ask."
"Very well. To begin, what was your business with Mannion on the day of
the murder?"
"He wanted me to take a message to a friend of his, a Russian."
"What was the message?"
"'Nine-thirty o'clock to-night, at place agreed upon.'"
"Did you take it?"
"Yes."
"Without understanding what it meant?"
"Without understanding it at all. I asked Mannion what it meant, and
he said it was an appointment about which I could possibly have no
concern."
"Did you see Mannion that night?"
"Certainly. He stayed in this house."
"At what time did he come in?"
"About midnight."
"Did you expect him?"
"No, for he had told my daughter that he was going away for a few days
and would leave on the evening train. He changed his mind; but for what
reason, I do not know."
"You do know, I presume, that he is suspected of the murder of James
Playfair?"
"What you said to me yesterday put the idea into my head. And if he did
murder Playfair I want to see him punished. Better that he should die
a felon's death, even though the disgrace of his crime and punishment
should fall upon me and mine, than that my daughter should hereafter
link her life with his."
"Do you think your daughter would cleave to him if she knew what he had
done?"
"Yes; she is a strange girl. She has a good heart, but she is set in
her ways. She loves Mannion with all her heart and soul, and she will
love him and stay by him under any and all circumstances."
"In a way," said Nick, "her character is to be admired. Heroines have
been made out of poorer stuff. But I think as you do, Mr. Craven, that
it is better that she should suffer while she is young than live a life
of wretchedness. Mannion dead or out of the way would be a blessing
which she would appreciate in later days. The man is a deadly incubus
to her. Not only on her account, but because society demands it, he
must be caught and punished."
"If I can help you in any way I am ready and willing to do so," said
Craven eagerly. He had been impressed by the detective's words. Nick
felt that he could now be trusted.
Since entering the house he had not asked Craven as to the whereabouts
of Mrs. Mannion, neither had he lowered his voice while speaking of
Mannion and the murder. As a matter of fact, he had spoken in a louder
tone than was usual with him, in the hope that the daughter would be a
listener. It was very probable that she was somewhere about the house;
and, if so, her anxiety over her husband's flight and the pursuit
would cause her to view with suspicion the appearance of a stranger at
the door. That she would eavesdrop was to be expected. Nick, as has
been stated, hoped that she would overhear what he might say to her
father, for from the description of her character he believed that
the eavesdropping would likely be followed by an attempt to reach her
husband and warn him that he must seek the safest quarters possible.
"Let her leave the house," thought the detective, "and Chick will
shadow her wherever she may go."
For the purpose of adding interest to what he had said about Mannion,
Nick answered Craven's last question by saying:
"I shall be glad to have your assistance, as I shall also be glad to
bring about that which will in time make your daughter a happier woman
than she would be if she knew what a dastardly scoundrel her husband
is. As for her marriage, it may be annulled at any time, if, as I
believe, she was unaware, at the time she became his wife, that he had
served a term in prison."
There was a slight, a very slight movement behind the door opening into
one of the rear apartments. The detective's sharp ears detected it, and
he smiled inwardly.
"She knew nothing of it, I am sure," said Craven.
Dismissing the Mannion matter, Nick talked on general matters for about
ten minutes. Then having, as he thought, given Mrs. Mannion a chance to
escape, he arose to take his departure. It was close upon six o'clock,
but the sun had not set. It would not be dark for over an hour.
"By the way," said the detective, as he stood at the door, "I would
like to speak with your daughter a moment."
"Very well. I will call her."
Craven went to the rear, and was gone a few minutes. He returned with
the announcement that his daughter was not at home.
"She was here when you came, for I left her in the kitchen to answer
your knock. Gone to a neighbor's, probably."
"It was a small matter," returned Nick. "I can see her at another time."
Outside, a block from the house, he was joined by Patsy.
"Chick's after her, Mr. Carter," he said. "They've been gone five
minutes."
"Which way?"
"South."
South might mean a great many places. As it was likely that Mannion
would leave Washington as soon as possible to seek a place of
shelter where he might remain until he got the correct lay of the
land in Washington--and this he must count upon securing through the
intelligence and shrewdness of his wife--the most available section was
on the Maryland side, beyond Twining. That would mean the crossing of
either the Anacosta or Pennsylvania Avenue bridge, unless a boat could
be secured before the first-named point could be reached. From there
a quick landing might be made near Poplar Point. Mannion, with his
knowledge of the river, would steal a boat, if one were to be found,
and Mrs. Mannion would not scruple to do the same, if opportunity
presented itself.
"I am afraid Chick has a big job on his hands, Patsy," was the
detective's comment.
At that moment, down on Anacosta's shore, Chick and Nellie Mannion were
looking into each other's eyes and smiling. They stood by a small punt,
and Chick had just engaged to row Mrs. Mannion across the stream.