A bullet had somehow found its way to him and had entered his side, but a quick examination satisfied Nick that the wound was not mortal.
“I got Rogers with my first bullet,” he whispered to Nick, as the detective bent over him; “and he got me, too. But he won’t bother us any more. Send me to a hospital, Carter, if you please, and don’t tell the folks who I am. I’m going to live a new life from this day forth, and try to be worthy of the sister who loves me.”
* * * * * * *
It was a remarkable fact of that raid upon Linden Fells that each and every victim of the drug that was administered in the coffee awoke in his or her bed or room, exactly where they had dropped asleep, and that the only person among them all who was at all conscious of what had happened was Chick, and he only in a vague way, which was utterly uncertain until the detective explained it to him.
Nick sent the prisoners and the wounded men away with the rescuing-party, and removed, as far as possible, all traces of the fight.
Even the old man, Mr. Danton, was seated in his chair beside his table when he awoke, in just the position in which he had fallen asleep from the effects of the drug. Even the servants were restored to the attitudes in which they had been discovered by Nick and Tom, and awoke in the small hours of the morning to slink away to their beds in chagrin.
Not one of them knew what had happened while they were sleeping—and not one of them learned the facts until later, when, of course, it became public property and was generally talked about—and even then, there were those who regarded it as a hoax and refused to believe.
Nick Carter did not send Tom Danton to a hospital. He had him conveyed to his own house, and, having left him there under the very best care that could be provided, he returned to Linden Fells.
But before he departed, he said to Tom:
“We are rid of Rogers, Tom; but we have an implacable enemy left still.”