Nick caught a glimpse of it, and of the woman darting toward it, and he followed her like a shot from a gun.

As Cervera pa.s.sed through the further opening and gained the lighted pa.s.sage, she seized and threw a short lever just beyond the closet wall.

At the same moment Nick's weight fell upon the closet floor behind her.

It was like treading upon air.

The lever, like the peg, did not work in an instant.

Nick felt himself falling, and made a desperate clutch at the door jamb--only to miss it.

Then the closet floor, with the detective upon it, went speeding down like an elevator cut loose from a top story.

CHAPTER XIV.

IN A WARM CORNER.

The crash with which Nick Carter vaguely expected his career might be abruptly ended, as the floor upon which he had fallen prostrate rapidly descended, did not come.

The terrific downward speed suddenly decreased, then became more gradual, all in the bare fraction of a second; and then the rushing sound of compressed air escaping through narrow crevices fell upon the detective's ears.

Nick immediately guessed the truth.

The falling closet floor was that of an elevator, no longer in use as such, yet which still worked on the slides of the elevator well, and evidently had been cleverly adjusted for just such an emergency as that depicted.

Presently there came a heavy jar, and then the downward motion ceased.

The close-fitting floor at first had fallen so swiftly that the confined air in the well beneath it had become so compressed as to form an air cushion, which finally let the floor completely down only after the air had gradually escaped. It was this escaping air Nick heard during the last moments of his fall.

The entire episode began and ended in but little more than a moment, however. Though considerably jarred, Nick pulled himself together, and gazed up through the darkness at the bottom of the well.

Cervera was peering down from the lighted pa.s.sage three stories above him, Nick having made a clean drop into the cellar of the imposing residence.

That this entire contrivance was the work of the Kilgore gang, devised while they masqueraded at Cervera's house, Nick was thoroughly convinced.

"h.e.l.lo!" Cervera suddenly cried, still gazing down into the darkness enveloping Nick. "Are you there, Mr. Carter?"

Nick stared up at her, but made no answer.

At the same time he felt quietly over the walls of the well, in the hope of finding some way of escape.

It riled him not a little, the thought of having been so deftly caught in a trap, almost entirely owing to his having been overconfident, an a.s.surance only very natural under the circ.u.mstances.

The possibility that this woman might now elude him for a time was also a thorn in Nick's mind.

"_Caramba!_" cried Cervera, with a mocking laugh. "Aren't you going to speak?"

Still no answer.

"Have you lost your tongue, Detective Carter? If you don't speak out, Mr. Smart Fellow, I shall drop something down that will light you up. I want a look at you, to know whether you're afoot or on horseback."

Nick remained in perfect silence.

Then Cervera disappeared.

"The she-devil!" muttered the detective. "What move next, I wonder?"

Again he felt quickly over the walls of the well, in the hope of finding some avenue of escape.

With a thrill of satisfaction, he now discovered one of the vertical strips of iron which are attached to two opposite walls of an elevator well, to steady the car and serve as slides for it to run upon. These iron strips are usually regularly notched to the depth of an inch or more, for the admission of an automatic break in the event of the rope parting.

"By Jove! this is not so bad," thought Nick. "It might serve for a ladder.

"To climb three stories with the tips of one's fingers and toes, however, and by means of a notched iron on the bare face of a wall, is a herculean and hazardous undertaking."

While he stood, measuring the alt.i.tude with his eyes, Nick heard Cervera returning.

Then a great bunch of flaming paper came flying down the well, and the detective was forced to leap aside to escape it.

She-devil, indeed, Cervera had set fire to a crumpled newspaper, with which to illuminate the bottom of the well.

"Ah, there you are!" she exultingly cried, on discovering Nick in the glare of the light. "On your feet, eh? You were lucky to escape, Detective Carter."

"And you'll be lucky if you escape Detective Carter," sternly retorted Nick, quickly stamping out the fire. "I'll finally land you, my crafty young woman, though I lie awake nights to devise a way."

Cervera gave vent to a shrill, vindictive laugh.

"Do you think you can do it?" she demanded, mockingly.

"You'll find that I can."

"Better men than you have tried--and failed."

"Yet I shall succeed."

"Do you feel quite sure of it?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I think I'd better see your finish this very night, since I now have you cornered!" cried Cervera, in taunting tones, "It may not be wise to defer it."

Then Nick beheld a second burning newspaper coming his way.

"Let up, you demon!" he shouted, angrily. "You'll set the house afire."