"It is a pity to give this up," he said surlily, as he fondled it in his hand, without, however, turning the muzzle in Nick's direction. "Throw it on the bed or----" The sentence was not finished, for in an access of desperation, and in entire disregard of his personal safety, Mannion, as swift as thought almost, sent the weapon whirling through the air. It struck Nick Carter squarely on the forehead, cutting the flesh, and sent him tumbling out of the chair. The next instant, Mannion brushed past his fallen enemy, opened the door, and rushed to the head of the stairs. There he hesitated, for the thought struck him at the moment that the great detective he had just left had not, probably, come to the house alone; that there were officers down-stairs, ready to give assistance whenever it should be needed. Therefore, turning from the stair landing, he hurried to a vacant room fronting the street. The door was open, and he entered the room just as Nick Carter reached the corridor. The blow he had received had been a severe one; but the detective had bathed his face and head, removing the black paste that disguised him, and had not lost consciousness. Though weak and dizzy, he was fixed in the resolve to follow and arrest the murderer, no matter what the danger to himself might be. Mannion crossed the room and was raising the window to step upon the scaffolding, when a bullet from Nick's revolver cut a lock of hair from his head. The detective could have easily killed the man, but it was not his desire to do so. Mannion must be taken alive and must be made, under the law's direction, to suffer for his crime. What the fugitive's object was in seeking the scaffolding, Nick at the time could not conjecture. But it was evident that he believed he was taking the most available way, both to escape from the house and from the detectives who might be in waiting on the sidewalk. As was afterward learned, Mannion's intention was to follow the planking of the scaffolding to the side of the house, around which it ran for a few feet, then descend into the garden and make his way through the grounds to the street in the rear. The shot fired by the detective did not stop Mannion in his flight. It accelerated it. He was out of the window and on the planking as another bullet whizzed by his head. Chick and Patsy, who had been stationed below, around the corner of the house, saw Mannion come out of the window, and did a little pistol-practise themselves, but the fugitive, who by this time must have arrived at the conclusion that bullets were harmless, kept on his way. He was at the front end of the scaffold when Nick Carter passed through the window. The great detective saw his enemy, and his lips parted in a grim smile. The man could not escape while he, Nick, was alive, and Chick and Patsy were below. "Keep an eye on him," he shouted to Chick, "and we'll get him, sure."