John Madison had sprung to his feet, uttering a cry, vainly attempting to prevent the lightninglike assault. But it had been made so quickly and with such vicious determination that Nick himself had received not the slightest warning of the terrible blow.
“Good heavens! What have you done? You have killed him!” gasped Madison, when the detective fell insensible to the floor.
Deland turned on him like a flash, with features dis[Pg 32]torted and murder in his eyes. He whipped out a revolver and thrust its muzzle against the lawyer’s burly form.
“Sit down!” he cried, with a wolfish snarl. “Sit down, or I’ll send you after him. I’m here for business, and you’ll find I mean it.”
Madison shrank instinctively from the deadly weapon, sinking back on his chair, as ghastly with fear and dismay a
