DETECTIVE NICK CARTER'S CASES - 7 Book Collection: The Great Spy System, The Mystery of St. Agnes' Hospital, The Crime of the French Café, With Links of Steel, Nick Carter's Ghost Story…. John R. Coryell

was in darkness, then, that they descended into the garden.

      But Haskell seemed to be in doubt about the direction to be followed. He started off at once.

      They had gone less than a hundred feet when suddenly Haskell shrank back. Deever, who was next to him, ran against him violently.

      “What’s the matter?” whispered Deever, in an anxious tone.

      “There’s somebody here ahead of us.”

      All looked where Haskell pointed, and they were able to make out the figure of a man standing in one of the numerous paths which wound through the garden. He appeared not to have noticed the advancing party.

      “He isn’t ten feet from the grave,” whispered Haskell. “It’s under that tree right beside him.”

      At this moment the moon broke through the cloud. Its light fell round the figure in the path.

      It was Dr. Jarvis.

      Nick’s first thought was that this was another sleep-walking wonder, but in a second this idea was dispelled.

      The doctor saw the intruders. He uttered an exclamation, and seemed about to retreat in the direction of the hospital. Then summoning up his courage, he paused, and confronted them as they came forward.

      “Who are you?” he asked, in a trembling voice.

      “I’ll soon show you who I am?” cried Deever, angrily, “and I’ll show these gentlemen what you are, in a few minutes.”

      “Lawrence Deever!” cried the doctor.

      “Yes; I’m Lawrence Deever,” was the reply, “and I’ve come to find my brother.”

      “You are a fool and a knave,” the doctor exclaimed. “Your brother is not here.”

      “We’ll see about that.”

      “I order you to leave this garden.”

      “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Nick, stepping forward. “I have the proper authority, and what we shall do here will not harm you.”

      In a few words he showed Dr. Jarvis the futility of resistance. Nick explained in a few words the evidence of Haskell, and made no attempt to conceal its true bearing upon the case.

      He spoke with his customary calm and steady tone, and his words seemed to reassure the doctor.

      “The fellow is a liar and the tool of a liar,” said the doctor, glaring at Deever. “I shall challenge you to find that body in this garden.”

      “It’s here, unless you’ve taken it away,” said Deever, roughly. “Now, Haskell, show us the spot, and we’ll go to work.”

      Thus urged, Haskell, who had hung back, as if afraid, stepped forward with no sign of hesitation, and pointed to the ground under one of the trees.

      “He was at work just under this long limb,” said Haskell.

      Nick bent down to examine the ground. It was a flower-bed which looked as if it had recently been sown.

      The spot was excellently chosen for concealment. It was impossible to tell whether the earth there had recently been disturbed.

      Deever seized a spade and began to dig. He was a man of enormous strength, and he worked furiously.

      The two men who had brought the tools joined in the work, but they did less than half as much as Deever alone.

      In an incredibly short time the hole was four feet deep. Then Nick suggested that they proceed with greater caution.

      “The body,” he said, “was probably buried without protection. If you strike it with your spades you may increase the difficulty of identification.”

      Thus warned, Deever’s two assistants worked with care, but Deever himself continued to ply his spade like a madman.

      Not knowing the exact spot, they dug a hole much larger than a grave, and thus the three men were able to work at the same time with advantage.

      Suddenly Deever cried:

      “Here it is!”

      His spade had struck something more solid than the soft earth.

      All sprang forward, and the doctor uttered a cry as of terror.

      Hastily the earth was removed from the buried object, until it could be lifted to the surface.

      Chick stepped forward, and brushed the last of the earth from the face with his handkerchief. Then it was dragged to where the moon shone full upon it.

      A murmur arose from the little party. The face of the dead man was cut and mangled with many wounds.

      “It’s Pat,” said one of those who had assisted in the digging. “There’s no doubt about it.”

      “Yes,” said Haskell, who was shivering with fear, “I recognize the clothes he had on.”

      “He’s got no coat,” said one of the men; “where’s that?”

      “It was hanging on a tree in this garden,” said Deever.

      Then he bent forward over the corpse, and took from around the neck a string to which a little cheap locket was attached.

      “He always wore that, poor boy,” said one of the men.

      Deever turned to where Dr. Jarvis stood. The face of the doctor was whiter than paper, as the moon shone down upon it.

      “What do you say now, Jarvis?” said Deever, coldly. “Do you confess your crime?”

      The doctor recovered himself with a mighty effort.

      “No,” he cried. “I deny all responsibility for this man’s death.”

Chapter V.

       The Body on the Slab

       Table of Contents

      Nobody seemed to be much impressed by Jarvis’ declaration of innocence.

      The finding of the body in the exact spot indicated by Haskell looked like conclusive proof. Added to this was the doctor’s presence beside the grave in the dead of night.

      “It’s a plain case,” said Deever, turning toward Nick. “Will you make the arrest now?”

      Dr. Jarvis shuddered as these words were spoken. It was easy to see that he was on the verge of despair.

      “Let’s not go too fast,” said Nick.

      “What stronger proof can you possibly desire?” exclaimed Deever.

      He seemed to be dazed with surprise at Nick’s delay, but Dr. Jarvis plucked up his courage.

      “I wish first to examine the body,” said Nick.

      He bent over the corpse which lay in the bright moonlight. The cause of death was evident at a glance. The head had been beaten and cut in a frightful manner.

      “See,” said Deever, bending over the body, “these wounds were made with a spade.”

      “They have that appearance,” said Nick.

      “Why, it’s as plain as the nose on your face,” exclaimed Deever, utterly losing patience.

      He seized a spade from the ground and applied it to the wounds.

      “The first blow, the one which killed him,” said Deever, “was struck with the side of the spade on the top of the poor boy’s head. It was a terrible blow.”

      Nick examined the wound. It was plain that no person