Nick peered out and saw the head and shoulders of Crawford rising from the pillow. The bearded face of the kindly mine owner peered for a moment through the gloom at the vague form bending over him, then a single word came to the detective’s ears:
“Jimmy!”
A savage cry sounded, and, with a last bound, the demented partner had thrown himself upon Crawford. Nick heard a choking gasp, and for a moment was tempted to leap from his hiding place and hurl himself upon the would-be murderer. It was only with a supreme effort of will that he kept himself in hand and mutely watched the struggle.
Stone had all the strength of his madness behind him, and with remorseless force he pressed Crawford back upon the pillow. Then, with a quick swoop, he pressed the sponge over the bearded lips and nostrils of the man who loved him better than a brother. There was a convulsive movement of the prone figure, and a long-drawn sigh, then Crawford’s arms fell back from their hold on Stone’s shoulders and he relapsed into unconsciousness.
Stone’s heavy breathing was very audible to the detective as the latter stood watching the dramatic scene. He saw the miner take the little leather case from his pocket and remove the hypodermic syringe. After that, leaning over his unconscious partner, the madman plunged the needle into Crawford’s forearm, close to the elbow, and the plunger was pressed home with one quick movement of the powerful thumb.
As soon as the deed was done, Stone gave an exultant exclamation, and, still leaning over the bed, shook his clenched fists at the motionless body.
“It was either you or me, curse you!” he said, as if growling, his face working savagely. “And I have won. You’re as good as done for, and unless you stop playing with me as a cat plays with a mouse, you won’t have a chance to do what you want to do with me. I’ve taken care of myself so far, and I guess I can keep on doing it until you’re too sick to try any tricks on me. Follansbee says you’ll be dead before the twenty-seventh, and he ought to know. Anyway, he won’t get his money if you’re not.”
CHAPTER XXV.
THE MADMAN’S GET-AWAY.
The words were spoken aloud in a thick, jerky voice, and it seemed to be all that Stone could do to keep his clutching hands from his senseless partner’s throat. Doubtless he remembered the rascally doctor’s promise that Crawford would know nothing about it all when he woke in the morning, and that was probably what stayed his hand.