She held the phial between her eyes and the light, saying:
“There can be no doubt about it. It is corrosive sublimate.”
“My enemies are still at work.”
The doctor entered now and the lady placed the phial in his hand.
“Did you send me that?” asked the detective, eagerly.
“I did not send you anything,” was the reply, and spilling some of the stuff on a piece of paper, the physician pronounced it corrosive sublimate.
“Look!” he said, holding the paper up for the wounded man’s inspection.
The poison had eaten through it, and the exhibition of the paper caused Nick Carter, brave as he was, to shudder. He would not hesitate to meet in the performance of his duties any man living, but how was he to fight those secret means now used, and which would probably be used again to kill him?
The surgeon examined his patient’s wound and, after dressing it, told Nick that it was healing rapidly.
“When will I be able to get out?” the detective asked. “I must be up and doing as soon as possible, doctor.”