HOW IT WAS DONE.
Jerry Nolan was not rattled by the discovery he had made. It was not in
his nature to be upset by anything short of a cyclone or an earthquake.
He gazed in for several moments at the motionless form on the bed, then
tiptoed into the room to make a closer inspection.
“Is she dead?” he asked himself. “Has she been croaked by crooks?”
Nolan paused beside the bed, bending above her.
It seemed to him that he had never beheld a more beautiful face.
He touched her hand and found it cold, then listened and looked in vain
for any sign that she was breathing.
There was an ugly gleam in Nolan’s eyes when he straightened up and
turned toward the door. He caught sight of a switch key on the wall, and
realized that with more light he could better determine the woman’s
condition. He turned the key and a flood of electric light filled the
room.
When he swung round again other objects met Nolan’s gaze. The woman’s
hat and jacket were lying on a chair. Beside them lay an open hand bag.
It contained only a dainty lace handkerchief. Her purse and other
valuables evidently had been stolen.
Her kid gloves had been tossed upon a bureau. Near them on the bureau,
placed in a small china tray, was a slender object, that glistened
brightly in the electric light.
Nolan approached and gazed at it.
It was a small glass hypodermic syringe, nearly filled with a colorless
fluid.
A scrap of paper, on which a few words were typewritten, had been placed
under the tray.
Nolan drew it out and read:
“This woman is only drugged. Inject the contents of the syringe into her
arm to revive her.”
Nolan did not hesitate.
He took up the syringe with the familiarity of a physician, or of a dope
fiend accustomed to using one, and again approached the bed.
Drawing up the sleeve from the woman’s shapely arm, he plunged the
needle through the fair skin and injected the contents of the syringe,
which he then replaced on the bureau.
Nolan then put a chair near the side of the bed and sat down to await
the result of this treatment.
He had not long to wait.
Scarce five minutes had passed when a tinge of color appeared in the
woman’s pale cheeks.
Her lips parted slightly and Nolan then could detect that she was
breathing. Another minute brought a deep-drawn sigh and a low moan, soon
followed by a fluttering of her eyelids.
“She’s still in the ring, all right,” Nolan congratulated himself. “They
were a clever bunch, for fair, that did this job. Ten bucks, eh? I’ll
soon see about that ten bucks’ gag. They’ll come down handsomely for
this, those two rats. Ah, now her lamps are lighted!”
The woman had opened her eyes.
She stared up at Nolan vacantly for several moments, too dazed and
prostrated for returning consciousness to bring any immediate
appreciation of her surroundings and what had befallen her.
Nolan did not speak, but waited patiently, knowing it then would be vain
to question her.
The woman broke the silence. She seemed to be slowly grasping the
situation, for she suddenly faltered vacantly, scarce above a whisper:
“Where am I?”
Nolan saw that she could not be moved immediately. He asked, a bit
indifferently:
“Don’t you know where you are?”
“No.”
“Or how you came here?”
“No. I----”
“Wait a bit,” Nolan interrupted. “Your head will clear in a few more
minutes. Then you’ll be able to tell me. What is your name? Can’t you
remember that?”
“Yes, of course,” she replied, with more strength. “My name is Mary
Waldmere.”
“Ah!”
“I am Lady Waldmere, of----”
She broke off abruptly, starting up from the pillow, only to sink back
again, too weak to rise. A frightened look in her eyes, however, told
that she was beginning to remember.
“Where am I? Where is his lordship?” she cried, with lips quivering.
“Why am I here? Who are you?”
“Hush!” Nolan cautioned. “Don’t get excited, madam. It might not be good
for you. Wait until you can recall all that happened to you. Then I’ll
see what can be done for----”
“Oh, oh, I remember--I remember it now!” cried Lady Waldmere, rising to
her elbow. “I was seized and carried away by wicked men--and a woman!
Tell me where I am. Tell me why I was brought here, and----”
“You calm yourself,” Nolan interrupted, with some authority. “Keep cool
and tell me the whole business. Do you know the men who brought you
here?”
“No, no; I do not,” moaned the woman.
“Or the woman who was with them?”
“No, nor the woman. She was veiled.”
“How did they get away with you?”
“With the help of their chauffeur,” Lady Waldmere brokenly explained.
“He enticed me to the taxicab he was driving. I was told that a friend
wished to see me. I did not know--did not suspect. I went with him to
the taxicab door, leaving my husband waiting on the avenue.”
“And then?” Nolan tersely questioned.
“There were two men and a woman in the taxicab,” Lady Waldmere went on,
quite hysterically. “The woman was veiled, as I told you. She held out
her hand to me and I supposed that she knew me. I did not dream of
anything wrong.”
“Sure not,” Nolan nodded.
“But when she grasped my hand, she seized it firmly and drew me into the
taxicab. At the same time I felt the chauffeur push me from behind. I
fell on the floor of the cab. One of the men seized me and held me,
while the other covered my mouth with his hand.”
“Brutes!”
“I nearly fainted,” Lady Waldmere went on, moaning. “I knew, then, that
I was being abducted. I tried to struggle and scream, when the taxicab
sped away, but my efforts were futile. Then I felt a sharp pricking
sensation in my shoulder----”
“The needle of a syringe,” put in Nolan.
“I don’t know--I don’t know!” moaned the woman. “I know only that I
fainted or lost consciousness. That is all I remember till now. I cannot
tell who or why I----”
“One moment,” said Nolan. “Were the men smooth shaved, or----”
“No, no! Both wore beards.”
“They were in disguise.”
“I cannot tell. I know only that I am in despair. I know----”
“Try to be calm,” Nolan again interrupted. “Wait till you regain your
strength. You then will be able to leave here, and----”
“Leave here?”
Lady Waldmere looked at him with a sudden wild hope leaping up in her
tear-filled eyes.
“That’s what I said,” Nolan nodded.
“Do you mean--do you mean that you are not in the employ of my
abductors?” Lady Waldmere asked, in faltering, frantic whispers. “Do you
mean----”
“Oh, I’m in their employ, all right,” Nolan dryly put in.
“Alas, then----”
“But not as you infer,” Nolan added.
“Tell me what you do mean, then,” entreated the woman, white and
trembling. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Am I to remain here and----”
“Not by a long chalk!”
“You will take me away? You will restore me to my husband?” Lady
Waldmere’s voice took on a hopeful ring. “Oh, I will pay you any sum if
you will do so. Tell me----”
“Do you feel able to leave here?”
“Able--yes!”
“At once?”
“Heavens, man, yes!” Lady Waldmere started up from the bed. “But don’t
deceive me! I beg that you’ll not deceive me. Will you take me away from
here? Will you restore me to my husband? Will you----”
“You bet I will, madam!” cried Nolan. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“But if in the employ of those men----”
“Oh, that’s another story,” Nolan again interrupted, assisting the woman
to rise. “I am also in the employ of your husband.”
“My husband!”
“I am a detective. My name is Chick Carter.”
The last was instantly taken up by a fierce, threatening voice in the
adjoining hall.
“Throw up your hands, then, and keep them up! Let the woman alone--or
you’ll be a dead one!”
Chick swung round like a flash.
In the open doorway stood Morris Garland, with face as black as midnight
and as threatening as his leveled weapon.
Behind him loomed the burly figure of a red-featured cabman, with blood
in his eye and a blackjack in his hand.
Two other figures, those of women, were crouching against the wall
farther down the hall--out of view of the startled detective.