Chapter XXXVI: Nick Carter’s Narrow Escape

The man was bleeding from a great wound in his right temple, his face was pale as death, and he was gasping for breath.

“Great heavens! it is Sweet,” exclaimed Nick Carter, as he sprang forward. “Who has done this, Tom?”

“Billy Young--Weeden----”

As he gasped out the words, Sweet’s head fell forward. He tried to finish the sentence; a spasmodic shudder ran through his frame, and he was dead.

Nick made a hasty examination of the body and found that, besides the wound in the temple, Sweet had received a knife lunge through each lung.

It was miraculous how he had kept his strength enough to enable him to stagger back into the office.

The inspector and Nick gazed at the body for a moment in sorrowful silence.

“Poor Tom,” said Nick, “you did your best. But, if I live, your cowardly murder shall be avenged.”

The inspector did not know who the murdered man was until Nick explained that Sweet was the man he sent to shadow Weeden and Young.

Immediately after the explanation a general alarm was sent out, so that steps could be taken to arrest the assassins before they had time to leave the city.

After this had been done, Nick and the inspector, accompanied by the young surgeon, made their way to Brooklyn.

They called first on the inspector in charge of the Brooklyn detective bureau, to whom the inspector explained the nature of their business. The inspector was astounded when he learned from Nick Carter the character of Weeden. The man bore such an excellent reputation, for sobriety and honesty, that he could scarcely credit what he heard.

“If you have any doubt as to the correctness of what I have just told you, here are proofs that I am sure will satisfy you,” said Nick.

He handed the inspector a document, and a photograph from the rogues’ gallery, of Boston, numbered 1313.

The inspector read the document carefully and scrutinized the picture.

“Your information seems to be correct, Mr. Carter,” he said, as he handed the paper and the photograph back to Nick. “It seems that Weeden is a dangerous character, as well as a cunning hypocrite.”

After a moment’s pause, he added: “I agree with Mr. Carter. Weeden has either committed these murders or else been a party to them. I am ready to aid him in running down the criminals.”

Nick explained that he had brought a young surgeon with him so that a careful examination of the bodies might be made.

The party at once went to the morgue.

Upon their arrival there the doctor went skillfully to work.

On the left side of each body was found a slight puncture, just over the heart.

Nick followed the doctor’s examination very carefully, as did the two other detectives. The doctor, as he probed the puncture of the last body, gave a startled exclamation.

“What is it?” demanded Nick.

“Wait a minute,” said the doctor, as he proceeded to cut away a small portion of the flesh. The knife ran against a minute metallic substance. A close examination showed that it was a small needle, one end having a slight opening in the end of it.

The needle had been driven clean through the heart.

On the point of it was a bright yellow spot.

The doctor, after some trouble, drew it forth. How it had been driven into the body was a mystery. The doctor made a hasty examination of the other bodies, and from the heart of each he drew forth a similar instrument of death.

“Never before,” he said, “have I seen so unique a manner employed in putting a fellow creature out of the world. The five pieces of steel have pierced almost in the same spot, the deviation being less than one-sixteenth of an inch. One thing is certain, these men all died instantly.”

“Why are you certain?” asked Nick. “Might they not have died before these murderous needles were driven into their hearts?”

“Such a thing is impossible,” said the doctor. “They all died in the same way.”

Nick Carter was puzzled.

If Jack Weeden was the murderer he had chosen a strange way to slay his victims.

Had these men been enticed to his place? And, if so, how? Had they been drugged?

The doctor said they had not, but that the yellow spot on the point of each needle was Ewara, a powerful poison, which is used by the fanatics in India.

“Who could have secured this poison?” wondered Nick.

Here, perhaps, was a clew which would enable him to run to earth the murderer of these men, who had met such a strange and untimely end.

One thing that puzzled Nick, and also Inspector Ward and the doctor, was how these bits of steel had been projected into the heart of each of the victims. It seemed preposterous that they could have been shot into the bodies.

During the doctor’s operations the bodies lay exposed on the marble slabs. The party was about to leave the morgue when the ambulance came in. In it was the dead body of a man who had been found in exactly the same spot as the other victims.

His death had been caused in the same manner. A piece of needle, with its fatal yellow point, had been driven through the man’s heart.

While the doctor was making an examination of the last body a shadow crossed one of the windows of the morgue.

A face was flattened against one of the dingy panes of glass. It remained but an instant only.

None of the party had seen it.

The startling report of a pistol shot rang out through the stillness of the night. With a loud crash the shattered glass fell to the floor as the bullet sped into the room.

Simultaneous with the report, a cry went up from the driver of the ambulance as he fell to the floor in his death agony.

Unfortunately for him, he had just stepped in front of Nick Carter, and received the bullet meant for the detective.

Nick was the first to recover his presence of mind. In an instant he was out into the street. A block away he saw a man spring into a motor car and drive furiously away.

While he could not see the man’s face, Nick could have sworn from his general appearance that the man who jumped into the machine was Jack Weeden.