Chapter III: "another Cuban."

"What I am about to disclose to you, you will promise to keep as secret as the grave?"

"I make no promise and must use my own judgment," replied Nick.

"Well, then, the woman whom you call Alvarez is my wife."

"Your wife?" said Nick, with real surprise.

"Unhappily, it is so."

"I thought you said you were engaged to be married to Miss Bland?" interjected Nick.

"Yes, sir. But I shall have to explain everything to you. When I was in Florida last winter I met her. She was very beautiful, and threw herself in my way. I became infatuated, and one night, while slightly intoxicated, I consented to marry her secretly. Her brother, who was present, insisted upon the marriage taking place at once. I discovered a few days afterward that the brother was one of a gang of desperate gamblers. Ever since that night my life has been a misery."

"Have you lived with her?" asked Nick.

"No; but she has continually blackmailed me upon threat of making public the marriage. Finally I confessed to my father, who was urging me to marry Miss Bland--to whom I have been engaged for nearly three years. He sent for her, and asked her to put in writing the terms upon which she would consent to a divorce."

"When did this happen, Mr. Rogers?"

"A few days ago."

"On the day before your father was murdered?"

"No; on the day preceding that she came to see him."

"Were you present at the interview?"

"Yes."

"Good! Now tell me exactly what occurred at that meeting."

"She said that she would consent to a divorce for fifty thousand dollars. Father agreed to pay that sum in exchange for the certificate of divorce, and to pay her expenses to California and allow her a certain amount to live there until the divorce was granted."

"Well, what then?"

"He asked her to put it in writing. She called the next evening, after Dr. Lord had left, and said she would not do it for less than one hundred thousand dollars.

"My father told her that this was impossible. He read for her his will, and explained that by conceding fifty thousand dollars he was robbing my sister and myself of a large part of our heritage."

"Did he read for her the clause connected with your sister losing her portion if she did not marry the doctor within six months?"

"Yes, sir--every word of it."

"What then?" asked Nick.

"She produced a written document, of which this is a copy."

Nick took the document and glanced it over. Turning to Rogers, he said:

"Do you know, sir, that this bond holds as good against your father’s estate, upon the production of the certificate of divorce, as if he had lived."

"Yes, I do."

"But you don’t seem to recognize that she can continue her blackmailing scheme all the same, without annulling this instrument. It is a clever document, Mr. Rogers--very clever. In fact, I do not believe the woman ever drew up such an instrument herself."

"Then what do you believe?"

"I cannot tell you just yet. But I want you to answer me one more question: Did you have any conversation with her after your father signed that bond?"

"Yes."

"What was it about?"

"I promised her twenty-five thousand dollars on my own account."

"Did she leave the house then?"

"Yes. I accompanied her to the railway station."

Nick looked puzzled.

"Had your father retired to his room before you left the house?" he asked.

"No. But he had gone before I returned."

"And you never saw him alive again?"

"No, sir."

"Who let you in when you got back from the railway station?"

"Jones."

"Have you perfect confidence in that colored man, Mr. Rogers?" asked Nick.

"Absolute. He has been with us for over ten years."

"Did he accompany the family to Florida last winter?"

"Yes."

Nick Carter became silent.

He seemed to be buried in deep thought.

At length he looked intently at Rogers and said:

"Have you anything more to say, Mr. Rogers?"

"Nothing that I can think of."

"Very well. I shall now bid you good-night. I shall call upon you again to-morrow, and remember, silence is a necessity."

"The funeral takes place to-morrow morning at ten o’clock, Mr. Carter, but I shall be home again about two."

"I shall call after that hour. Good-night, Mr. Rogers."

When he had got a little away from the house, Nick stopped and looked back.

"I wish the moon would come out," he muttered. "I should like to explore the road between here and the next railway station."

At that instant his sharp ears detected a soft footfall in the snow behind him.

He turned suddenly.

That movement undoubtedly saved his life.

By the dim light that came from one of the windows of the house, he saw, outlined against the snow, the form of a man, who, with uplifted hand, was about to plunge a knife into his back.

In a second the would-be assassin found his wrist held by an iron grasp, and with a smothered cry of pain, the knife fell from his hand.

At the same moment the hall door was opened, and a flood of light rushed out upon the scene, revealing the features of Nick’s assailant. Dr. Lord was coming out.

As Nick did not wish to see the doctor, or rather, as he did not wish to be seen by him, he flung the would-be assassin from him, picked up the knife and stepped into the shadow of the shrubbery. When the doctor had passed out of the lawn, Nick came from his hiding-place and went toward the nearest railway station, saying, as he walked:

"Another Cuban!"