When she found herself on the other side Nellie Mannion paid the counterfeit boatman, and then turned and went rapidly up the bank. Chick saw her disappear among the trees, and cautiously followed her. For half an hour he was able to keep her in sight. Then, all at once, she disappeared in the thickly wooded grounds of an old residence long deserted. The gate was gone, the fence was broken in many places, the grass grew thick in the walks, and there was neglect everywhere. Chick was hurrying through the wild tangle of weeds and bushes in the garden near the house, when a scream, fraught with direst agony, reached his ears. It came from a spot near at hand, not many yards away, and in a moment he stood by the mouth of an old well and by the side of Nellie Mannion, who, on her knees and sobbing as if her heart would break, was gazing down into the black depths of the hole. "What is it?" Chick asked, in real concern. Mrs. Mannion looked up, partially checked her sobbing, and said, in a despairing voice: "He's down there." "Who is he, and how did he get there?" Chick had not explained his presence in the grounds, nor had the woman expressed any surprise at his coming. It now occurred to the young detective, while Mrs. Mannion hesitated in her answer, that he might as well try to square himself. "I live near here," he said unblushingly, "and I was going past the place when I heard your scream." She seemed to pay no attention to this explanation, but said, with a renewal of her agitation: "He's down there, and he may be dead. Can you not get him out?" "How do you know any one is down in the well?" the detective asked, as a dim suspicion crossed his mind. "I heard his groans as I came toward the well," she replied, with every appearance of earnestness and sincerity; "and the groans stopped just before you came up." Chick was but half-satisfied with this statement. Kneeling down, he looked and listened intently. There was not a sound from below. He struck a match and was in the act of using the light thus afforded to ascertain what, if anything, the well contained, when a shove given with all the force Nellie Mannion was capable of exerting--and she was anything but a weak woman--tumbled the brave detective into the well. There was a heavy thud, one groan, and then silence. On her feet, her heart beating like a trip-hammer and her face, lighted up but a moment before with murderous fire, now pale with the first touches of remorse, Nellie Mannion listened for a few moments; then, taking up her bundle from the ground, hastened, with shaking limbs, from the scene of her crime. Nick Carter waited until midnight for the return of his assistant. Then, in no equable frame of mind, he sought his couch.