“Quiet,” Nick cautioned. “No, not dead. The rascal who did this job doesn’t thrust his knavish neck into a noose. Clayton has been drugged. It’s the work of the same miscreant who downed him at the time of the jewel robbery.”
“David Margate?”
“Yes.”
“What shall we——”
“Don’t stop to question,” Nick interrupted. “Lend me a hand and we will place him on the couch. Slip out and[Pg 10] find a physician, if there is one among the guests. Don’t alarm them, however, by stating what has occurred. A physician soon can revive him. Send Mr. Langham in here, but not a word about this to Mrs. Julia Clayton. Leave me to inform her.”
“You think——”
“Never mind what I think,” Nick again cut in while they placed the senseless man on the couch. “Do what I have directed.”
“But Clara, his wife—what of her?”
“There’s nothing to it, Vandyke,” said the detective. “It’s as plain as twice two. The bride has been stolen.”