The instant that his eyes rested on the girl, he began the ascent.

He had gone up less than six feet when the rope suddenly gave way, and he found himself plunging downward through the shaft.

CHAPTER VII.

The wardrobe of Gaspard’s friend.

Nick Carter is hard to kill.  A good many crooks have tried to put him out of the world, and a fair percentage of them have lost their own lives in the attempt without inflicting any injury upon Nick.

He is a man of resources, and that’s what saves him.  When one thing fails him, he finds something else to take its place.

And so, when that rope gave way, he took the next best thing.

That happened to be the sill of the window of Mr. Jones’ bath-room.  Nick seized it with a grip of iron as he shot downward.

The strain on his arms was something awful, but he held on.  His fingers gripped the wood till they dented it.

In two seconds he had scrambled through the window into Jones’ flat.

It was done so noiselessly that the colored servant in the room directly opposite, across the narrow shaft, was not disturbed in her reading.

From the bath-room Nick made his way to the hall, and thence to the parlor, where Mr. Jones—­to judge by the light in the window observed by Musgrave—­had decided to spend the evening.

Mr. Jones was not visible when Nick looked into the room.

The bedroom adjoining was also empty.

Nick ran through the flat, but saw nobody.  He returned to the parlor, and there stood Mr. Jones under the chandelier.

“Well, upon my word!” exclaimed Jones, “how did you get here?”

“I might ask you the same,” said Nick, “but it isn’t worth while.”

“I’ve been here all the time.”

“Except when you were on the roof.”

“Nonsense!  What should I be doing on the roof.”

“It wasn’t what you were doing; it was what you were undoing that bothered me.  You were undoing the knot with which I fastened my rope before I descended your air shaft to get a peep at your servant.”

“Nonsense again, Mr. Carter.  How could I get to the roof?”

“I’ll show you just how it was done.  In the first place, you saw me coming back to the house, and you guessed what I was going to do.

“You went into this room,” and Nick dragged Jones into a sort of closet adjoining the parlor, “and you got out of that window onto the fire escape.

“That led you to the roof, and the rest was simple.  You saw me go down, and you tried to make me go down farther and a good deal faster.  But you failed, and the game’s up.  Now come to headquarters again.”

“What for?”

“For trying to kill me.  That’s the charge against you.  And I haven’t got through with you on that other matter.”