“Not on your life,” Max said with a gesture toward Tod and Mike.
He lifted the stick, and Nancy could see that he had driven a giant, lethal-looking spike into the end of it. “Stay back!” he rasped when Tod moved closer. “Where’s Nancy Drew? It’s a matter of life and death!” A shadow of pain crossed his face, and he began to cough.
“Here I am,” Nancy said, stepping forward beside Ned. She could hear Max’s harsh, labored breathing. “What do you want?”
For an instant, distracted by Nancy’s voice and by his own coughing, Max lowered the stick. Mike and Tod rushed him. Mike tackled him around the knees, bringing him down, and Tod tried to pin his arms behind his back. Max fought back with the strength of a madman, and the three rolled on the dusty ground in a silent, violent tangle. But after a moment, the two were too much for Max, and Tod managed to get astride him. He put his hands around Max’s neck, trying to throttle him.
“Ned!” Nancy screamed, running toward them. “Stop him! We’ve got to hear what Max has to say! He may be our key to this mystery!”
Ned jumped in with the skill that made him Emerson’s star quarterback. He grabbed Mike by the collar and tossed him several feet away. But as he reached for Tod, Tod jumped up and picked up the club Max had dropped.
“Now I’ve got you!” Tod shouted down at Max. “You’re not going to get away with killing Paula!” He poised to strike, the spike glinting viciously at the end of the stick.
Suddenly Nancy lashed out with a hard, flying kick at the small of Tod’s back. As she struck him, the club was knocked out of his hands and he fell to the ground, gasping.
Max had raised himself to his hands and knees, trying painfully to push himself up off the ground. Blood oozed out of the corner of his mouth. The gash over his right eye had opened up again. His other eye was already puffed and swelling where Tod had hit him. Max crouched and fell forward.
Ned took off his canvas belt and bent over Max, hauling him up to a sitting position. “I’m not going to hurt him, I’m just going to make sure he doesn’t get away,” he told Nancy. He pulled Max’s arms behind his back and looped the belt twice around his forearms, before he pushed it through the buckle and cinched it tight.
Helplessly, Max dropped his head between his knees. Nancy leaned over him. It sounded as if he were trying to say something.
“It wasn’t me!” he said, sucking in his breath with a hollow, whistling sound. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t kill Paula!”
“What?” Nancy and Ned said together.
Max coughed again. “It . . . it was the other way around,” he gasped, attempting to pull himself up straight. “She . . .” His eyes glazed over, and he fell heavily to his side in the dirt. “Be careful,” he whispered to Nancy, his voice fading. “She’s after you!”
“After me? But why? What are you trying to say, Max?”
“She’s trying to kill you. She’s not . . . she’s not . . .” Max’s head fell back limply.
Ned felt for a pulse. “He’s passed out,” he said grimly.
Nancy stared up at Ned. “Do you suppose he was telling the truth?” she asked. “That he didn’t kill Paula?”
“Max!” Bess came running up. She had ripped off the tail of her blouse and soaked it in water from the canteen. She knelt down beside Max and began to wipe the blood off his face. “Is he going to be all right?” she asked fearfully.
Ned stood up after freeing Max’s hands. “It’s hard to say,” he replied, looking down on Max’s unconscious face. “He’s probably got some internal injuries—maybe some broken ribs, maybe worse.” He scowled at Tod and Mike. “The beating didn’t help any.”
Tod hung his head. “It looked like he was going to try to get away. We were just making sure he didn’t.” Tod glanced up again. “What did he mean when he said he didn’t kill Paula?”