“You are a Gordon man, then.”
Madison now spoke with a covert sneer.
“Well, yes, to be perfectly frank with you,” bowed Nick. “So I suppressed the newspaper stories, and had Gordon liberated and the accusation killed. That is the little political play I have made. Aside from that, however, I had other reasons for making it.”
“What reasons, Carter?”
“I do not believe Gordon committed the crime,” said Nick. “I have, in fact, found positive proof that he did not.”
“Indeed? Someone, then, must have blundered.”
The last vestige of color now had left Madison’s face. His strong features were taking on the haggard look of a long illness. Not once did his intense eyes leave those of the detective, however, or his powerful figure relax from its rigid attitude of strained attention.
“Yes, some one blundered,” Nick agreed, bowing again. “The blunder is going to prove costly, too, to the persons involved. The victim of the murder, Madison, was a woman named Matilda Lancey.”
“Indeed?” Madison’s face hardened perceptibly. “I was acquainted with her. We used to be friendly in a way.”
“Used to?”