Chapter IX · LAST LINK IN THE CHAIN.

At two o’clock precisely a lady knocked at the door of room 75, Adams House.

It was Anita Alvarez.

Nick Carter, alias Mr. Rogers, admitted her.

"How do you do, madame?" said Nick.

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Rogers. I expected to find my brother, and—and a friend here."

"They will be here presently."

"My brother tells me that Sam will not accept the terms of the agreement."

"He will be here himself at three o’clock, madame. We shall then arrange everything connected with this matter."

"But cannot you tell me in the meantime what it is he particularly objects to?"

"I cannot see what good it would do. It will be much better to discuss the entire affair with him personally. But won’t you remove your heavy cloak and make yourself comfortable while you are waiting? By the way, wouldn’t you like a cup of coffee after your journey?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers, thank you. If you would not mind, I should like a cup of black coffee and brandy."

Nick touched a bell.

It was answered by Chick, to whom Nick passed a note, saying, as he did so:

"Will you please bring some coffee and brandy at once?"

"Yes, sir."

The note contained the following message:

"Have Moreno and Gonzales here at 3:30. Admit Rogers first. Keep prisoners in your room until we need them."

Chick’s room was number 73, and had a door leading into Nick’s.

When the door closed, Nick took from his pocket the hat pin which he found in Mr. Rogers’ room, and placed it on a chair close to his visitor.

"Does that pin belong to you, madame?" asked he.

She looked at it; then put her hand up to her hat to satisfy herself that the one there was not missing.

"Why, yes!" she cried. "I have missed that pin for some days. I wonder where it came from, or how it could have got here."

"It was found upon the bed with Mr. Rogers’ dead body."

She trembled and became pale and confused.

But recovering herself, she asked:

"Where did you say it was found?"

"Where you dropped it, madame."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not remember the morning after Mr. Rogers’ death?"

"Yes."

"When you went to see the body with your husband?"

"No, sir. You are mistaken——”

"What?" said Nick. "Why, you told me that——”

"Oh, yes! I forgot."

The unfortunate woman was so bewildered that, in her confusion, she really believed she had told him.

"By the way, I hope you have the release for Sam ready," said Nick.

"Yes," said the woman, who was now feeling particularly uncomfortable.

But just then the waiter arrived with the coffee and brandy, and the diversion relieved her.

She little guessed how badly she needed a stimulant just then.

Nick looked at his watch.

It wanted but a few minutes of three o’clock.

"When did you see your husband last?" he asked, suddenly.

"Last night—eh, I mean—eh, not since his father’s death."

"There is one thing that Sam has concealed from me," said Nick.

"What is that?"

"Was his father really murdered by Dr. Lord? Or was it by somebody else?"

"You know well," said Anita, regaining her self-confidence, "that no other person could have done it."

"Then you believe," said Nick, adroitly, "that that syringe was charged with poison solely for the purpose of murdering Mr. Rogers."

"I know it."

The moment she uttered these words she recognized her mistake, and would have given worlds not to have spoken them.

But, although Nick had now secured the last link of his chain of evidence, he gave no outward sign that he attached any importance to it.

He was about to continue when someone knocked at the door.

"Come in!" said Nick.

Sam Rogers entered.

"Anita!" he cried, in amazement.

"At your service, sir!" coldly rejoined the lady.

"Be seated, Mr. Rogers," said Nick.

Anita looked at Nick nervously.

"That man would not call him Mr. Rogers, if he was his cousin!" was the thought that flashed through her mind.

Rogers was clearly as much mystified as was Anita.

But his perplexity was not mixed with fear.

She was trembling with fear of an unknown something which her imagination was unable to define.

She looked at Nick with an expression that mingled indignation and appeal.

Her suspense was really becoming unbearable, and Nick saw it.

"Better cut this act short," he muttered.

Turning to Rogers, he said:

"Mr. Rogers, that woman is not your wife."

"Liar!" thundered Anita.

"Keep your temper, madame," said Nick. "Your real husband will shortly be here. As Mrs. Moreno, you cannot be Mrs. Rogers."

"My God!" she cried. "How did you learn this? Who are you?"

Not heeding her question, Nick continued:

"I have learned much more, madame, that you will be even less pleased to listen to."

"Is this true?" asked Rogers, in a whirl of delighted amazement.

"Yes, Mr. Rogers. You may set your mind at rest on that point."

Just then the door opened, and Chick announced:

"Dr. Lord!"

The woman trembled from head to feet when she saw the doctor.

Rogers also felt very uncomfortable.

"Have the others arrived?" asked Nick.

"Yes, sir. They are in the next room."

"Is Waldo with them?"

"Yes, sir, and another man."

"Send them in guarded."

The door between Nick’s room and his assistant’s was immediately opened, and Moreno and Gonzales were marched in, handcuffed to the two detectives.

"Nick Carter!" cried both prisoners, simultaneously.

"Yes, gentlemen," said Nick. "I shall now explain why I have invited you all to be present at this meeting."

No one uttered a word.

Everybody was too much astonished.

But they were even more astounded when Nick said:

"Everybody in this room knows, in part, a good deal of what I know concerning Mr. Rogers’ death, and the criminal events surrounding it; but not one of you can even guess all that I do know.

"In the first place, Mr. Rogers was not murdered.

"Three people in this room knew, from the very beginning, that he was not murdered.

"These are Anita Moreno, Manuel Alvarez and the conspirator in chief, Moreno himself."

Had a thunderbolt fallen in the room it could not have caused more consternation and amazement.

Nick then continued, in the same cool manner:

"There was an intention to murder him, however; but luckily nature stepped in and claimed Mr. Rogers before this crime could be committed.

"This intended murder was planned by Moreno and was to have been executed by the woman, his wife, who is guilty of bigamy for entering into a marriage ceremony with Mr. Rogers.

"The plan was to incriminate Dr. Lord, and thus create a lever for blackmail.

"When Anita Moreno went to Mr. Rogers’ home—to murder him—and found that he had died the night before of heart disease, she nevertheless inserted the needle of this hypodermic syringe in his wrist and injected some of Mr. Moreno’s famous poison into it."

Here he held aloft the syringe.

"She then broke off the point in the wound, hoping that the doctors would find it and naturally suspect the family physician of having used the dreadful poison it contained.

"But she was ignorant of the fact that after death hypodermic injections will not be distributed through the system, as the blood has ceased to circulate.

"For this reason I noticed that the wrist was discolored by the poison, and that fact has guided me throughout.

"She then visited Dr. Lord and left the broken syringe upon his bureau.

"There is no necessity to recite the clever scheme of blackmail which was to have been put into execution.

"Every one in this room knows the particulars.

"But every one here does not know, nor does the lady herself, that the vial of poison from which the syringe was charged was dropped by her at the Providence depot and picked up by me.

"And lastly, only the three prisoners know that Alvarez attempted to murder your humble servant at midnight on Mr. Rogers’ lawn.

"And now what should we do with these criminals?

"Dr. Lord, you have the best right to dictate.

"What is your sentence?"

"Spare them," generously cried the doctor.

"Just what I expected you to say," said Nick.

"Yes, we will set them at liberty.

"But upon one condition.

"They must return to Cuba; for if within three days any one of them is found in the United States, every one of the crimes of which I hold the proofs against them will be charged to the law’s limit."

When the three culprits took their departure, Nick Carter’s face became once more severe, and, turning to Sam Rogers, he said:

"You should not have lied to me!"

That was all; and the great detective then escaped from the outpouring of gratitude of the two men, whose happy future he had insured.

THE END.

The next number will contain "Nick Carter under the Knife; or, The Little Giant Among the Body-Snatchers."