Nick Carter could see only too plainly the result of the discoveries made there that morning, and he did not wait to hear more.
“Flood, eh?” he said to himself. “Not by a long chalk. Cane or no cane, Moses Flood never killed this man. It’s plainly time for me to get in a bit of lively work, and head off this man Gerry. He’ll now go at the case like a bull at a gate.”
As he turned from the scene, bent upon hastening away, Nick caught sight of a white, frightened face at one of the library windows—the face of the girl from whom he had recently parted, and who plainly had seen and heard all.
Darting around a corner of the house, Nick rapped smartly on one of the side windows. The sound quickly brought Dora Royal to him, and he signed for her to raise the sash.
“Do not be alarmed,” he then cried softly. “Your face will betray you unless you conceal your feelings. Did you hear all that was said out there?”
“Yes, yes, every word,” moaned the girl breathlessly. “Oh, oh, it cannot be possible! He never did it—he could not have done it!”
“Take my word for that, Miss Royal, and suppress your fears,” Nick hurriedly answered. “Let the evidence be what it may, never believe that Flood committed that crime. I have no time for more. Be guarded, constantly guarded, and follow my every instruction to the letter.”
“I surely will, sir. And you?”
“I’m off to queer the move against Moses Flood.”