Had he caught one flash of those eyes, even as he attempted to fire the fatal shot at her? Had the expression in them compelled his intention to waver, and so deflected his aim? Even as she had stood there facing almost certain death at his hands, had she, in the fraction of a second that was permitted her, been able to throw her spell over him? And had he, even at the instant when his finger was pressing the trigger of his gun, sought, against his own set purpose and will, to spare her?
It was the only manner in which Nick Carter could account for a third shot missing, when the two that had preceded it had been fired with such deadly accuracy.
The papers had contained no mention of robbery—even the fact that the small safe was missing had not been discovered.
If there had been robbery of jewels or money, the papers would have reported it; and so it was apparent to the detective that the person who had committed the crimes had gone there with that express purpose in view—had gone there to kill. More than that, had gone there with the deliberate intention of murdering Madge Babbington and her friend and associate who was with her—Nora McQueen. For Nick Carter, since he overheard that conversation, knew positively that the two were friends and associates, and that they were working together—probably had long been associated.
We have gone over all this ground in order that the frame of mind which governed the detective when he went to that apartment house may thoroughly be understood.
He could not see any solution of the double crime save through the active instrumentality of the man who called himself Carleton Lynne; there was no other acceptable theory, for who else was there who could have desired the death of Madge Babbington, to the point of murdering her?
He did acknowledge to himself that, had he been less well informed than he was—had he not been there himself almost up to the time when the crimes were committed, and had he been told the story of the clerk at the desk about the mysterious stranger who had called there—he might have been influenced by it.
And then came another thought—a perplexing one, too:
Was it possible that the murderer, watching and waiting for the return of Madge and her friend, had seen him force his way into the apartment with his picklock—had waited until Nick Carter came out of the place, carrying the safe in his arms, and had then carried out his own dark purpose, realizing with a sense of security that another than himself would be suspected?
Such a thing was possible—was even highly probable, under the circumstances, and in the light of all that the detective actually knew of the conditions.