Excerpt

Nick Carter caught sight of the couple only by chance. His touring car, in which he was seated with his chauffeur and Patsy Garvan, his junior assistant, was speeding through one of the winding driveways in Central Park, New York, and heading for Fifty-ninth Street.

“Hold on! Slow down, Danny!” he cried to his chauffeur. “That woman has fainted, or is in a fit.”

The woman was lying on the greensward near a diverging driveway, and some fifty yards from where Danny Maloney, startled by the detective’s sudden sharp commands, brought the touring car to a quick stop. A girl in a white apron and a starched linen cap was bending over the woman and gazing around affrightedly, uncertain what to do. Seeing the car stop and the detectives alighting, she suppressed a scream for help and awaited their approach.