CHAPTER XII.
THE REVELATIONS OF NAN.
“Found it, didn’t you?” exclaimed Jimmy, with a return of his old assurance. He had managed to raise himself to a sitting posture, and to turn about so that he had a full and uninterrupted view of the exposure, when it happened. When nobody replied to him, but remained staring in more or less stupid wonder at what had taken place, he added: “Now, I wonder how in the world you knew it was there, Carter? Did Miss Nightingale tell you where she had hidden it?”
Nick made no reply—in words.
But he did take a hasty stride or two across the floor, pulling his handkerchief from his pocket as he did so, and the next instant Jimmy’s jaws were forced apart, and the soft linen of the handkerchief was introduced between them.
“I told you that I would gag you if you interrupted,” said the detective; and then, as Lenore attempted to rush forward toward her lover, the detective restrained her.
“Young lady,” he said, “I honor you for your loyalty. You are ready to fight for, and to defend with your last breath, the man who has been your accepted sweetheart. It is hard for you to believe that he is not the man he has pretended to be.”
“I won’t believe it. I will never believe it!” she cried out. “You are no better than a brute to treat him so, Nick Carter. I hate you!”
Nick smiled down upon her, somewhat sadly.
“Some day you will thank me,” he told her. “In the meantime, you must be patient. But, tell me. Do you also hate Miss Nightingale?”