He counted off twenty paces and then saw, a few feet in front of him, on the right side of the alley, evidences of the struggle that had taken place there.
The feet of ruthless people had trodden ruthlessly about and over the spot, but the evidences had not been entirely obliterated.
The building on the right was a one-story structure, occupied by a grocery.
At the rear was a heap of empty boxes, and close to one of these boxes a dark stain of blood marked the place where the watchman had lain.
Nick searched the vicinity carefully.
The outlook for evidence was unpromising, but he knew very well that appearances were not always to be trusted.
In a quarter of an hour he had gone over the ground thoroughly, and under the edge of one of the boxes he had found a square card.
It was made of fine, heavy bristol board, and was the general shape of a visiting card such as a man might use.
On the side which had undoubtedly borne the name and address were two oblong blurs showing where a knife had scraped out the names and numbers.
On its reverse the card bore a stain of blood and these words, in pencil: