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.