“I shall say nothing of this affair to the ambassador,” he said. “From me, he will be made no wiser concerning what has occurred between you and me to-night, and I advise you to be silent on the subject, also. In the morning when your temper has cooled, we will discuss it. Good night.”
He moved on down the thoroughfare, which happened to be Connecticut Avenue.
Turnieff stung to madness by the coolness, not unmixed with contempt of the detective, leaped the pickets of the iron fence and rushed after him.
“You will fight. I will make you fight,” he exclaimed. “If you won’t meet me as gentlemen should meet, then have it this way,” and he struck wildly at the detective again.
Nick turned in time to ward off the blow, but not soon enough to prevent the savage rush of the Russian having its effect.
For Turnieff was no weakling, although Nick Carter was greatly the stronger of the two. The Russian clinched, winding his long arms around the detective’s body with such tenacity that it was all that Nick could do to escape the consequences of it.
They struggled for a moment there in the middle of the sidewalk; but at the end of that moment Nick threw Turnieff away from him with such force that the man staggered backward, and finally fell to his knees on the cement flagging.
As he did so three men rushed forward out of the darkness, coming apparently from nowhere, for Nick had not suspected their nearness.
They reached the fallen man ere he could get upon his feet and they seized upon him, evidently to assist him—that was how Nick regarded their intentions.