A glance to the right told him that his suspicion was well founded. There was no light in Stone’s room now, and it was obvious that the tall miner had left.
CHAPTER XVIII.
ON THE FIRE ESCAPE.
An exclamation of annoyance broke from Nick Carter’s lips.
“I didn’t give him credit for so much cunning,” he thought. “But hanged if I see why he should have felt it necessary to skulk away in that fashion. It can’t be possible that he suspects me, and I don’t know of any reason why Crawford should not know of his going out.”
He concluded on the whole that it was probably an evidence of the instinctive slyness of the mentally affected, and nothing more. Further, he concluded that Stone had probably turned along the corridor in the other direction, used the servants’ stairs, and left by one of the side exits. Of course, it was possible that his demented brain had urged him on to the use of the fire escape. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that the latter supposition was nearer the truth. It would be just like a man in Stone’s condition to resort to such a ruse.
The miner’s disappearance had been a great disappointment to the detective. When he had discovered from the shadows on the drawn shade that Stone was going out, his hopes had risen. He had counted on following the man and getting some line on his movements, but now that was out of the question.
He knew that it was useless to follow Stone after that delay, but as a result of a few seconds’ deliberation, he decided not to let the chance slip altogether. Donning his lightweight overcoat, and buttoning it up to his chin in order to conceal the conspicuous expanse of white shirt front—which might draw undesired attention—he softly raised the sash of his window and stepped out on the wide sill. The fire escape did not lead down directly past his room, but one end of the iron platform came within two or three feet of the window on the right side.