<h2 id="XXV">CHAPTER XXV. <br/> <small>THE MADMAN’S GET-AWAY.</small></h2>
<p>The words were spoken aloud in a thick, jerky
voice, and it seemed to be all that Stone could do to
keep his clutching hands from his senseless partner’s
throat. Doubtless he remembered the rascally doctor’s
promise that Crawford would know nothing
about it all when he woke in the morning, and that
was probably what stayed his hand.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Had the detective been in any doubt of the man’s
condition, it would have vanished then, and Stone’s
irresponsibility was even more evident when he turned
away from the bed, and the light from the transom
struck his face. It was wrinkled into a mask of
maniacal triumph, and the glare in the eyes was more
like that of a wild animal than of a human being.</p>
<p>Nick held his breath for a moment. Stone was
heading directly toward the bathroom, apparently with
the idea of washing his hands after handling the
drugged sponge. If he should enter there, discovery
would be inevitable, and the detective would have a
crazy man to handle—a task which even he did not
care to contemplate.</p>
<p>Presently, however, when Stone was only four or
five feet from the door of the bathroom, he suddenly
wheeled about and recrossed to his own door,
through which he disappeared. His shrewdness had
evidently suggested the desirability of performing the
necessary ablutions in his own room.</p>
<p>Nick relaxed when the danger was removed, and
after waiting for perhaps five minutes following the
closing of the connecting door, he stole from his hiding
place and sought Crawford’s bed. No odor of
the drug had reached his nostrils in the bathroom.
It was evidently so volatile that it had been quickly
dissipated in the air. The detective knew its nature,
however, for he had sniffed at it in Stone’s room.
He was aware that it was all that Doctor Follansbee
had claimed for it, and that, under ordinary circumstances,
it would work no permanent harm; but what<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</SPAN></span>
he did not know was its effect on Winthrop Crawford.
Crawford seemed to possess a rugged constitution,
but his heart, for instance, might be weak. Nick
wished to make sure that his new friend’s condition
was normal before he left the room.</p>
<p>His examination, for which he did not need a light,
was satisfactory. The drug had plunged Crawford
into a profound sleep, but there was nothing to indicate
that the effects would not pass away in good
time, leaving him in his usual health. As for the
injection, that meant nothing, so long as the serum
which Follansbee had provided was now reposing in
Nick’s fountain pen. To be sure, the hasty cleaning
of the syringe might not have removed all traces of
the serum, but the detective had done his best, and
knew enough of such things to feel sure that the consequences,
if any, would not be serious. Crawford
might possibly have a slight touch of the disease,
whatever it was, but it was not likely to amount to
much.</p>
<p>The detective straightened up a little, listened, then
produced his pocket flash light and turned the rays
on Crawford. It was an easy matter to find where
the puncture had been made, for a tiny globule of
blood stood out on the tanned skin of the man’s arm.
Nick stooped lower and took a bit of the flesh between
thumb and finger. He succeeded in squeezing
out a few drops of water and blood, which he
carefully wiped away.</p>
<p>“You’re safe enough, my friend,” he thought.
“Anyhow, I’ve done my best for you, and to-morrow<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</SPAN></span>
will decide whether you’re still foolish enough to refuse
to guard yourself against the attacks of that
madman, or whether you’re willing to listen to reason
and let me put him where he belongs.”</p>
<p>Having done all he could for the time being, he
straightened up and stood in thought for perhaps half
a minute, uncertain of his next move. He had heard
enough of the conversation between Stone and Follansbee
to know that the latter had planned for the
miner to join him after the diabolical injection had
been made. That meant that Stone would soon venture
forth again, doubtless by way of the fire escape,
and there was no knowing what moment he might
appear at his window. Consequently it would be extra
hazardous for Nick to venture out on the platform
and try to pass Stone’s room.</p>
<p>He decided to wait for a few minutes, and to return
to the bathroom to do so, for Stone might take it
into his head to come back into Crawford’s room for
some reason.</p>
<p>In a short time he had the satisfaction of hearing
Stone’s window go up and then down again after the
man had passed through. His alert ears caught a
few slight sounds on the fire escape, which told him
that the miner had begun to descend. He had
planned to follow, if possible, owing to his realization
that Follansbee might be playing a double game, and
was quite capable of making away with Stone as well
as Crawford. He had brought along his shoes for
that purpose, having suspended them about his neck<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</SPAN></span>
by means of the laces, and during the last few minutes
he had put them on in the bathroom.</p>
<p>It occurred to him now, though, that the difficulties
were even greater than he had looked for. It would
not do for the floor clerk to see him emerging from
Crawford’s room, for she would naturally become
suspicious at once, and, not knowing his identity,
would cause a delay before an explanation could be
made. On the other hand, he could not follow down
the fire escape until Stone had disappeared from the
courtyard, and by the time he could reach the near-by
bank, where Follansbee was to be waiting, the car
would doubtless have carried the two conspirators
off.</p>
<p>Moreover, he had known all the time that there was
small chance of following the machine at that hour.
He certainly could not do so on foot, and even if he
had arranged for another car to be in waiting in the
neighborhood, there would be considerable delay in
reaching it. On the whole, therefore, he reluctantly
decided to return to his own room, and call it a night’s
work. It was not that he trusted Follansbee any
more, but merely that he thought a few hours’ delay
would not entail serious consequences to James Stone.</p>
<p>He did not dream, however, of what was in store
for the ex-miner.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</SPAN></span></p>
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