Читать книгу Hidden Foes; Or, A Fatal Miscalculation онлайн

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“Possibly, though Wagner doesn’t think so.”

“Where was the crime committed?”

“In the grounds of his own house, a fine residence in Garside Avenue. He was sauntering up a gravel walk leading to his front door, when a man came down from the veranda and approached to meet him. Wagner did not recognize him, but he naturally inferred that the stranger had called to see him, and, not finding him at home, that he was about departing.”

“Certainly,” Chick nodded. “That was perfectly natural.”

“What followed was quite the contrary,” Carter remarked dryly. “The stranger stopped directly in front of him and asked whether he was Mr. Wagner. He had an unlighted cigar in his mouth, or so Wagner has stated. The latter replied in the affirmative, of course, and asked what was wanted.”

“And then, chief?” queried Patsy.

“Then came the one singular feature of the case,” said the detective. “Wagner felt a sensation as if a breath of air had hit his face. He doesn’t know where it came from, nor can he explain it, for the stranger still had the cigar between his lips and his mouth was closed. Be that as it may, Wagner instantly felt very numb and confused, and in another moment he lost consciousness.”