“Great heavens!” cried Nick. “Is it possible they’ve got Chick? Is no one safe from these fiends?”
CHAPTER V.
IN AND OUT.
It would be hard to express in ordinary words the wave of relief that surged through Nick Carter as he knelt by the side of Chick, and, looking closely at the sleeve of his coat, saw that the crossed needles had not gone in far.
“They haven’t reached his flesh, I’m sure,” murmured Nick. “They only just catch in the cloth. The wretch who did this hadn’t time to finish the job. The needles got entangled in the cloth, and before he could drive them in, he heard, or saw, me coming.”
Cautiously, the detective withdrew the needles and laid them on the walk, by his side. Then, picking up the unconscious Chick, he threw him over one shoulder, and carried him into the Anderton mansion.
Nick Carter was blessed with extraordinary strength, and although Chick was solid and of good weight, the burden was nothing to the detective.
“Merciful ’eavens!” squeaked Ruggins, as Nick came up the stone steps. “What’s that, Mr. Carter?”
“Fainted, I think,” replied the detective briefly. “Let me put him on this sofa in the hall.”
When Chick was laid out on a long leather settee that had been encumbered with a raincoat and other garments untidily left there by Ruggins, and which Nick Carter unceremoniously swept to the floor, the detective hastily removed Chick’s coat, and pulled up his shirt sleeve on one side.
“This was the arm,” he muttered. “There is no mark of the needles in the sleeve, and I could not find any through the coat. I don’t think there’s any danger of his having been struck. But I want to find out.”