"On account of a temporary scare. After considering the matter, he concluded that you had no hold on him that would stand in court, and he would have chanced arrest, if I had not given him to understand that you knew more about him than he had given you credit for knowing."
Nick scanned her face, lovely in its heightened color, saw undying resolve in her eyes, and sighed.
"And you—you have done all that for a red-handed murderer," he said, with severity.
"He is my husband," she said simply, her eyes meeting his without a quiver.
"Arguments, then, would be thrown away."
"Entirely so. You look at the case from one side, I from the other. You do not know all the facts."
"And you are in possession of them, eh? Would it be presumption to ask you to give your side, or rather your husband's side, of the story?"
"No, it would not be presumption, but I cannot give you any information. My story, or his, you would laugh at, so what is the use of telling it?"
Nick made up his mind that Mannion had, in vulgar parlance, given her a "fill," and that she, in her love and faith, had swallowed what had been given her as gospel truth. Therefore, he did not pursue the subject.
For several weeks after the rescue of Chick, Nick Carter used every means within his power to discover the hiding-place of Arthur Mannion, but without avail. Nellie Mannion never left her father's house during all that time, except to visit a neighbor, or make necessary purchases at near-by stores. Court action on the will had been indefinitely postponed, Nick believing that at some time, near or far, the will would furnish the clue that would unearth the murderer.