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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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A WOMAN, wearing a heavy veil, was seated in the reception-room of Nick Carter's house, waiting for the great detective to appear.
He came, presently, arrayed in that simple disguise in which it had become his habit to receive his clients.
The long-tailed coat, the checkered pants, the gray hair and beard, and the general air of rusticity, seemed to astonish his caller, and she gazed at him in evident wonder and some doubt.
"Are you, Mr. Nicholas Carter, the detective?" she inquired, rising from her chair as he entered.
"I am, madam; be seated, please."
"Sometimes called 'Old Thunderbolt?'"
"Yes; I have been so called."
"I wish to engage your services."
"In what way, madam?"
"In a very mysterious case."
"Ah!"
"Will you assume it?"
"Well, that depends."
"Upon what?"
"Upon numerous contingencies."
"Will you state them?"
"Certainly."
"Do so."
"I must first know who it is that wishes my services."
"Why, I do."
"Who are you, madam?"
"My name is Clarita Downing."
"Miss, or Mrs.?"
"I am unmarried."
"Very good. Now, if you will remove your veil so that I can see to whom I am speaking, I will hear what your case is."
She hesitated a moment, and then disclosed her face.
Even Nick Carter was impressed by her extraordinary beauty.
Hers was a rare, sweet face, rather of the gipsy type, and her great black eyes had something in them that was somber and defiant, yet withal, sad, and full of yearning.
"Sir," she said, "this is the first time in three years that I have revealed my face to a stranger."
"Indeed, why?"
"Because of the wonderful resemblance I bear to another."
"Ah! who is that other?"
"She calls herself Clarita Downing."
"Indeed! Then there are two people in the world who not only resemble each other, but who bear the same name?"
"Precisely that."
"It is a strange coincidence."
"It is not a coincidence. it is a crime."
"Ah!"
"The other person who calls herself Clarita Downing has no right to the name, or to the fortune which she is now enjoying, and it is to be the sole possession of both that I have come to you."
"What is the other Miss Downing's true name?"
"I do not know."
"You don't know?"
"I am not sure, and yet—"
"Is she not related to you?"
"Again I do not know."
"This is most extraordinary."
"It is, sir."
"Will you explain?"
"Sir," she said, slowly, looking at Nick with a suspicion of moisture in her eyes, "you have doubtless often heard of cases where two persons were almost exact counterparts of each other in form and feature?"
"Often."
"And of mistaken identity being the consequence?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever heard of a similar case where three persons were involved?"
"No. I never have."
"And yet I have just such a circumstance to relate."
"Three persons who look exactly alike?"
"Yes, sir."
"So that they are mistaken for each other?"
"So that they were mistaken for each other, yes."
"Humph! Why do you use the past tense?"
"Because one of them is dead."
"Oh, and you do not know which one?"
"I do not."
"Was one of them related to you?"
"Yes."
"In what degree?"
"We were, or are, cousins."
"And the other?"
"Was not related to the other two. I speak of myself in the third person for the present, in order that you may understand me better."
"You are one of the original three?"
"I am."
"Were your ages the same?"
"My cousin and I were born on the same day, at about the same hour. She, in New York city, and I, in Madrid, Spain."
"And the other?"
"I know nothing regarding her birth or age."
"She seems to be a mystery."
"She is."
"What was your cousin's name? I assume that I have yours correctly."
"Yes, My cousin's name was, or is, Isabel Danton."
"So you were cousins on your mother's side."
"Our mothers were twin sisters."
"Hum! In order to be lucid, we will call you No. 1, your cousin, No. 2, and the unknown, No. 3."
"Yes, sir."
"When did you first know of the existence of No. 3?"
"About four years ago."
"In what manner?"
"I met her at the house of a friend in Buffalo."
"Where you were visiting?"
"Yes."
"How is it; then, that you do not know her name? Was she not introduced to you?"
"An introduction was thought unnecessary."
"Why so?"
"Because she was masquerading as my cousin, Isabel Danton."
"Ah! If the resemblance was so strong, how did you know that she was not your cousin?"
"Because at that moment I knew my cousin to be confined to her room by reason of a sprained ankle."
"You were positive of that?"
"As positive as I am that we are here now, you and I."
"You were not deceived?"
"I proved to my own satisfaction that I was not."
"How?"
"By satisfying myself that my cousin was still at her home."
"Did you go to see her?"
"No. She was in New York and I in Buffalo."
"How then did you prove—"
"I sent my servant."
"A trustworthy person?"
"I would have trusted him with my life."
"Where is he now?"
"He is dead."
"Indeed; since when?"
"About a year subsequent to the event I have related."
"Hum!"
"I believe that he was poisoned."
"Why?"
"He died very suddenly and mysteriously."
"Did you not have his death investigated?"
"He was not with me at the time, and I could not."
"Where was he?"
"In the service of one of the others—either No. 2, or No. 3."
"How did that happen?"
"He believed that he was with me."
"Well—well! Was he an old servant?"
"He was a middle-aged man when I was born."
"And had always been in your family?"
"Yes."
"And even he, who had known you from the time when you were a babe, was deceived."
"Yes, that is, at first."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I believe that his death was due to the fact that he discovered the cheat that had been practiced upon him, and of which I was made the victim."
"Do you know that he did make such a discovery?"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
"I received a note from him the day before he died.
"Ah! through the mail?"
"No, by messenger."
"Have you preserved it?"
"Yes."
"You have it with you?"
"Yes."
"Let me see it."
"Here it is."
She handed the detective the note, and opening it, he read:
Dear Miss Clarita:
I have been deceived. You were right, and I now know positively who my rightful mistress is. I have the proofs, but dare not send them lest they be lost. I will deliver them to you as soon as I am able to be about again. I was taken ill yesterday, and to-day I am somewhat worse. If I am no better to-morrow, I will risk sending the proofs to you by messenger. My sole prayer is that you will forgive me for the wrong that I have done in denying your identity.
Your servant,
Philip.
P.S.—Do not fear that the proofs will be stolen from me. I have placed them in a package, which I have hidden where nobody can find it. The package is marked '17-A.' I only put that mark on for identification.
Philip.
Nick looked up from the letter that he had been reading.
"This is a remarkable document," he said.
"It is, sir."
"He expresses himself well."
"He was fairly well educated."
"Did Philip write again, the following day?"
"No sir."
"Why not?"
"He was dead."
"Dead!"
"He died that night, five hours after he wrote that letter."
"Of what malady?"
"Apoplexy was the stated cause."
"And you believe the true one to have been poison."
"Yes."
"Have you ever searched for Package '17-A?'"
"I have been prevented from doing so."
"Why?"
"I have been a prisoner."
"Where?"
"If I tell you, sir, I fear that you will doubt my entire story as others have done."
"If you do not tell me, I shall find out."
"I have been in a private asylum for the insane."
"Humph!"
"I was put there because I insisted upon the truth of my story."
"By whom?"
"By the woman who now passes as Clarita Downing."
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"When did you leave there?"
"The day before yesterday."
"How?"
"I escaped."
"Ah! Where is this asylum?"
"Near Huntington, in Canada."
"Kept by whom?"
"Dr. Spleen."
"Are you aware that I could send you back there as an escaped lunatic?"
"Oh, my God! sir, whatever you do, don't do that. I would rather die—"
"So would I."
Nick made the last remark so sternly that she was calmed at once.
"Do you believe my story, sir?" she asked, with tears in her eyes, "or do you believe me to be crazy?"
"I will examine the contents of Package '17-A' before I refuse to believe you, Miss Downing, just as sure as my name is Nick Carter."
"BEFORE you consent to take the case, Mr. Carter, there is yet much more for me to tell you," said the young lady, with tears of thankfulness in her eyes.
"I am listening."
"In the first place, I have very little money—less than one hundred dollars, in fact."
"Well?"
"Therefore I have no resource from which to pay you for your services, unless—"
"Unless what?"
"Unless you find Package '17-A.'"
"And in that case?"
"My fortune will be restored to me."
"Is it a large one, Miss Downing?"
"My father left me nearly a million dollars when he died, four and one-half years ago."
"Ah! I assume that your mother is also dead."
"She has been dead fifteen years. I am twenty-six years old."
"Have you any suspicion as to which of your two counterparts is now in the possession of your property, and which one is dead?"
"None whatever."
"That is strange."
"It is my cousin who is supposed, by those who are conversant with the circumstances, to be dead. It is the Unknown, or, as you have named her, No. 3, who is supposed to have been sent to an asylum, and I am supposed, at this moment, to be in possession of my home and fortune."
"A mixed up mess."
"Indeed it is."
"Where is this home?"
"On the west bank of the Hudson, near West Point. We call it Cliff Castle."
"When did your supposed cousin die?"
"Two weeks before I was sent to Canada."
"Where did she die?"
"At Cliff Castle."
"Of what disease?"
"The same which killed Philip."
"Apoplexy."
"Yes—or poison."
"Exactly. You do not look like an apoplectic person. Were they affected similarly, your supposed cousin and Philip?"
"I believe so; but I know very little about it."
"For the sake of lucidity, we will say that it was your cousin who died, and that it is the Unknown who is now passing as Clarita Downing."
"Yes, sir."
"Where were you when your cousin died?"
"Here in New York."
"What were you doing?"
"Endeavoring to regain possession of my property."
"What means did you employ?"
"I had a lawyer who pretended that he believed my story, and assured me that he would move heaven and earth to restore me to my rights. Later, he was chiefly instrumental in having me incarcerated in the asylum."
"So he pretended to sympathize with you, while in reality he was won over by the other side."
"Or brought over."
"What was his name?"
"Greenleaf."
"I will find him. Now, tell me what effort was made in your behalf at the time?"
"I know very little about it, sir; some papers were served, and I went to Cliff Castle and made what my lawyer termed a formal demand for my property."
"What then?"
"I was treated like a mad person. I was listened to and humored, as the saying goes, and a time was fixed when we were to have a hearing."
"A hearing! Where?"
"At Cliff Castle."
"Did you believe it to be in the regular process of law?"
"Yes, sir.'
"And your lawyer so instructed you?"
"Yes."
"He was a fraud from the start; but continue. What then?"
"The hearing took place."
"When?"
"Three weeks later."
"Your cousin had died in the meantime, I take it."
"Yes."
"Well?"
"Instead of a hearing as to the merits of my claim, I found that the occasion was called by the lawyers, 'Lunatico Inquirendo.'"
"Precisely."
"And was conducted chiefly by doctors—that is, the two men, whom, in my ignorance, I supposed to be judges, were really physicians."
"And you were pronounced a lunatic?"
"I was."
"What then?"
"I was sent to the asylum in Canada, my counterpart—she whom we have agreed to call the Unknown—who was then wearing my wardrobe as well as my name, graciously consenting to defray all of the expenses, and making a liberal allowance for my maintenance and care."
"Generous."
"Very! She professed great concern and great pity for my condition; deplored the fact that nothing could be learned regarding my true name and my relatives, and altogether won the hearts of everybody by her angelic behavior, and the absence of all spite against one who had endeavored to defraud her."
"Well?"
"Insinuations were made that I was an adventuress instead of a harmless lunatic, and that I should be sent to prison instead of to an asylum."
"Indeed."
"The Unknown, however, insisted that I could not be so heartless and so scheming as to claim her property unless my mind were deranged, and thus it was decided."
"But could you not give dates and facts regarding your life at Cliff Castle?"
"Abundance of them had I been permitted, but I was not. I even offered to take the committee to my old room and show them a secret closet there, which I assured them the impostor could not find, even after I had exhibited it to them."
"And they did not permit it?"
"No."
"But pronounced you a lunatic."
"Yes; and I think, for a time, I did go mad. But I resolved to bear my cross, and some day to effect my escape and come to you."
"What, even then?"
"Yes; I had heard of you, and I felt that you would help me."
"I will."
"Oh, sir, how can I thank you?"
"Do you wish to thank me?"
"Indeed I do."
"You can.
"Tell me how?"
"By following my directions, in this matter, implicitly and blindly."
"Is that a bargain?"
"Yes—yes."
"Very well; now, a few more questions."
"I am ready."
"The Unknown, is she married?"
"She was not three years ago."
"And you do not know what has occurred since?"
"No."
"Your cousin was unmarried?"
"Yes."
"How did it happen that your cousin died in Cliff Castle? for I believe there was supposed to be war between Miss Downing and Miss Danton—at least, I take it so."
"You are correct. Suppose I tell you the story of our family feud in as few words as I can.'
"I wish you would."
"My father was a very rich man, and Isabel's father was very poor. Our mothers were twins. Isabel and her mother spent much of their time at my home until my mother died. We were then about twelve years old."
"Did you resemble each other, then?"
"So much so that Bell's mother often said, laughingly, that if it were not for the fact that my disposition was so much sunnier than Bell's, she would be forced to tie ribbons on our arms to tell one from the other.
"The servants were often puzzled, particularly when we happened to be dressed alike, which was quite often."
"At whose solicitation?"
"My cousin's. She delighted in putting on my dresses, or in having her own made like mine. She also took especial delight in rushing upon the servants suddenly and giving an order as though she were I."
"This is interesting. I begin to think that the Unknown is dead, and that your cousin reigns, but go on."
"My father was never deceived. He said that he could feel the difference, and I think he could. I loved my father very dearly."
She paused a moment, and then continued:
"One day, I was alone with him, when he spoke very severely of Isabel's penchant for personating me.
"'I have so arranged,' he said, 'that there will be no misunderstandings in the future. I have told the servants that when you address them, you will hold your left hand where they can see this ring,' and he gave me a very curiously wrought ring of gold. It was because of that ring that Philip was ultimately deceived."
"Ah! then you lost it?"
"Yes."
"In what manner?"
"I cannot say. It disappeared very mysteriously and I have always believed it was removed from my finger by my maid while I slept."
"Doubtless. Describe the ring."
"It was a flat band of gold, with a succession of hearts inlaid in silver, and on the top was the Greek letter (phi) in very small rubies. My father smilingly told me that it was a charm, and would bring good fortune to whoever possessed it, and misfortune to whoever had once worn and parted with it. He charged me particularly to keep the ring as long as I lived, and I meant to do so."
"Your father's superstition seems to have had some foundation in fact, judging from your experiences."
"Yes; he procured the ring in India, where he made
his fortune, and I often begged him to relate its history; but he could not be persuaded to do so.
"My cousin soon discovered that the servants had learned to know the difference between her and me, but although she strove hard to discover the cause, she could not fathom it. We were children, then, you must remember.
"After my mother's death, my father and I went abroad, and Isabel and her mother lived at Cliff Castle during our absence.
"We were gone two years, and I believe that she discovered the secret of the ring while we were away.
"I do not know, I never knew the exact cause of the breach between our families. It occurred less than a year after our return from Europe. All that I do know is that my father ordered the Dantons to leave.
"He was a stern, uncompromising man, and when he passed his word, there was no redress.
"I was very sorry when they left, and endeavored to swear eternal friendship with my cousin. She was, however, entirely unresponsive, and from that day we met but rarely, and never at Cliff Castle.
"Her father died two years later, and she lost her mother a few months prior to the time of my father's death."
"NOW, Miss Downing," said Nick after a short pause, "will you tell me how you were ousted in the first place from the possession of your property?"
"Certainly. I was coming to that."
"Possession—particularly in a case of this kind—is nine points of the law. How did you lose possession?"
"In a very simple, and yet very strange, manner."
"Relate it."
"I was at Saratoga at the United States Hotel with some friends, and Cliff Castle was closed."
"One moment, where was your cousin at that time?"
"I do not know."
"Continue, please."
"The season was well advanced, and many of the guests were leaving. My own party was ready to depart, and arrangements had been made to leave there on Saturday morning, when, on the preceding Thursday, I received a message which took me to a little country village in Saratoga County called Half Moon."
"What was the message?"
"An old servant of my father's was dying, and she wished to see me. I could not refuse, and I went to her, intending to return the following day."
"You did not?"
"No. I found Susan to be in very destitute circumstances, and I remained there so long that it was Monday afternoon when I again entered the United States Hotel."
"Were you alone?"
"Yes, I did not take my maid to Half Moon with me."
"That was unfortunate."
"Indeed it was, sir. When I entered the hotel, I went at once to my room and walked in, unannounced, expecting to find my maid there."
"But you did not?"
"I found an utter stranger—a person whom I had never seen before, but a lady."
"What did you do?"
"I stammered out some excuse about having mistaken the room, and withdrew. Then I looked at the number, and saw that it was, indeed, my room."
"For a moment I was nonplused; and then it occurred to me that all the arrangements having been made for our departure, it was possible that my maid had misunderstood me, and had, therefore, gone home with the trunks."
"What then?"
"I went to the parlor and sent for the manager.
"He came, and I said to him: 'How is it, sir, that my room is given up without my orders?'
"He professed not to understand me, and in our conversation insisted that I had returned to Saratoga on Friday, had paid my bill and had departed with my friends, my baggage, and my maid on Saturday."
"You were greatly mystified."
"Naturally."
"Had you no suspicion of the truth?"
"Of the real truth, no. I believed that a practical joke had been played upon me, and I was indignant."
"Did you connect your cousin with the affair?"
"Not at all."
"What did you do?"
"I started at once for Cliff Castle."
"And there you found that Miss Downing had reached home Saturday afternoon; that you, yourself had suddenly, and without your own knowledge, been transformed into Miss Danton, and, in short, that you were your own cousin—and a pauper."
"That, Mr. Carter, is exactly what I did find."
"Were you refused admittance?"
"No, I was admitted."
"For whom did you ask?"
"For Philip."
"He came?"
"Yes."
"What occurred?"
"Philip had always detested my cousin from the time she was a child. He believed that I was Isabel Danton, insisted upon addressing me as Miss Danton, and politely but firmly refused to obey an order that I gave him.
"It was, then, that I looked for the Indian ring, and discovered that it was gone."
"You had not missed it before?"
"No."
"Did you send for your cousin?"
"Yes. I first undertook to go to my room myself, but Philip barred the way, and positively refused to let me pass. I was so overwhelmed that I scarcely remember all that I did."
"Did your cousin see you?"
"No, she declined."
"What did you do next?"
"I tried to reason with Philip."
"And failed to convince him?"
"Utterly."
"What did he say, or do?"
"He listened politely at first, but at last lost his patience. Presently he said:
"'It's no use, Miss Danton. My mistress has told me, since her return, that you have been impersonating her in several places, and you might as well understand first as last that you cannot impose upon old Philip.'
"I think I was too utterly astounded to wage the warfare understandingly, and there was nothing left for me to do, but to retire, leaving my cousin or the Unknown in possession of the field."
"Now, how long before this occurred, was it that you had met the Unknown in Buffalo."
"Several months."
"You say she was impersonating your cousin at that time?"
"Yes."
"And you sent Philip to New York purposely to ascertain if Isabel Danton was or was not confined to her room with a sprained ankle."
"For no other reason."
"He returned and told you that she was still there?"
"He did."
"Did he see her?"
"Yes."
"Did you ever doubt the loyalty of Philip?"
"Never. His loyalty cost him his life in the end."
"When Philip returned from New York, you were, of course, satisfied that the woman who was supposed to be your cousin, was an impostor?"
"I was."
"What did you then do?"
"I sent for her to come to my room."
"Did she come?"
"Yes."
"What occurred?"
"She was utterly impenetrable."
"How so?"
"I told her flatly that she was an impostor."
"What did she say to that?"
"She laughed in my face."
"And then?"
"I confronted her with Philip."
"Well?"
"She laughed at him also."
"What more?"
"She spoke sarcastically; insisted that I had endeavored to crush her all my life, because she was poor and I was rich, and had the courage to tell me flatly in Philip's presence that she believed it to be a conspiracy against her, to deprive her of the few pleasures she was permitted to enjoy."
"The resemblance between you three must have been remarkable. What did Philip say to her charge?"
"He was very angry at first."
"And then—"
"He did not speak until she had left the room. When we were alone, he said: 'Miss Clarita, I wouldn't care, if I were you.'
"'Why?' I asked.
"'Because,' said he, 'the conspiracy is probably on the other side, and your cousin and this woman are probably in league.'"
"Wise Philip."
"'After all,' " he continued, "'you don't know which is your cousin, this one here, or the one with the sprained ankle. She is as likely to be one as the other, and either way, it can't affect you.'"
"Unwise Philip."
"I believed there was reason in what he said, and I allowed the matter to drop."
"Did you say nothing to your hostess?"
"Nothing."
"That was unwise."
"Perhaps. I thought it for the best."
"Did she?"
"I believe so; I am not certain."
"Miss Downing, that was, in all probability, the first move in the conspiracy against you."
"Yes, I am of that opinion now."
"Later, when their plans worked, one of them died, opportunely for the other."
"Precisely."
"And probably from some other cause than apoplexy."
"Probably."
"Do you know of any circumstance when your cousin and the Unknown were together, except at the time immediately preceding the death of the one who was buried as Isabel Danton?"
"I do not."
"And yet I am of the opinion that they saw each other frequently."
"It is possible."
"And that they conspired together for your fortune."
"It is doubtless true, sir."
"They probably had agreed to enjoy the fruits of their crime together, but one of them, the bolder of the two, was loth to share the wealth with another. They discovered in time that Philip had learned of the cheat that had been practiced, and his death was the consequence."
"I firmly believe that to be the case."
"One crime leads to others. If Philip was murdered, the woman who was buried as Isabel Danton was a victim of the same hand."
"Without doubt."
"The murderess saw how easy it would be to put her partner in crime out of the way, and did so. It has been my fortune to be mixed up in many strange affairs, but I must say that this is the most astounding, the boldest, and most successful conspiracy that ever came to my notice."
"It has certainly been successful thus far."
"And it shall be our purpose to unmask the whole proceeding, eh?"
"I hope so.'
"It shall be done, if Nick Carter can do it, and I think he can."
"You fill me with hope, sir."
"There is another point upon which we must touch."
"What is that?"
"Are you aware of the fact that you are in imminent danger?"
"Of what?"
"Well, of apoplexy, for one thing."
Clarita smiled incredulously.
"I mean the same sort that killed Philip and your dead counterpart."
"Ah, you mean poison!"
"I do."
"But how—"
"Listen. It is known by this time that you have escaped from the asylum where you were placed."
"Probably."
"Every effort will be made to find you, and return you to your prison."
"I do not doubt it."
"The search will begin at once; has begun now, in fact."
"Doubtless."
"Finding you, and failing to send you back to Canada, your life will be in danger."
"I had not thought of that, sir."
"We must think of all things. What plans had you for the future?"
"I have made none, beyond the hope that I might secure a situation, which would support me until—"
"It is not to be thought of. You have a beautiful face; it would attract notice; your identity would be discovered, and the result would be the asylum, or death."
"I should unhesitatingly choose the latter."
"Choose neither. I have a plan."
"What is it, sir?"
"I think, for the time being, that I will transform you into a detective."
CLARITA DOWNING looked up in great astonishment when Nick Carter announced that he would make a detective of her.
She could not comprehend his meaning, and still less did she believe that he was serious.
"A detective is like an electric battery," continued Nick, "for he is both positive and negative. The positive is 'to detect,' the negative is 'never detected.' To begin with, we will imbue you with the negative element, in order that you may go abroad in the streets, visit the stores, etc., without running any risk of your enemies lighting upon you."
"But," she exclaimed, "you do not mean that I am to assist you in the real work of a detective, do you?"
"Yes," he replied, slowly, "so far as your own case is concerned, I think you may prove very useful, indeed."
She was at first, delighted with the prospect, but suddenly a shadow passed over her face, and Nick divined the cause at once.
"Now Miss Downing," he said, "I have another direction to give."
"Very well, sir."
"You remember that you agreed to obey me implicitly as the condition upon which I took your case."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, my first order is, that you do not leave this house again without my permission."
"That I do not leave this house?"
"Exactly that."
"But, sir—"
"You will find my wife an excellent companion and a sympathetic friend. To go out means to subject yourself to the possibility of discovery by your enemies; to remain here means to be secure. Did you bring a trunk with you?"
"Only a small hand-bag."
"Where is it?"
"At the hotel where I stopped this morning."
"Does it contain anything of particular value?"
"Nothing."
"Then leave it there."
"But, sir—"
"Mrs. Carter will provide you with the few articles you need, until such time as you will be able to provide them for yourself. It is better not to go after the bag, because your enemies will follow it; they will trace it to the hotel, where they will ascertain that you left the bag and never returned. They will then think that some accident has befallen you, and—well, you see the point, do you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. One more question and then I will introduce you to my wife. Have you any idea concerning the nature of the proofs contained in Package '17-A?'"
"None."
"That will do for the present. Come with me, now, please."
Ten minutes later Nick Carter was in his study with Chick, having left Clarita with Ethel.
"Well, Chick," said the great detective, "you heard the story?"
"Every word."
"What do you think of it?"
"I think it remarkable."
"Bosh!"
"Eh?"
"I mean that you are talking bosh. Of course, it is remarkable. That goes without saying. Is Clarita Downing sane or insane?"
"As sane as I am."
"Good! Who reigns at Cliff Castle at present, the cousin or the Unknown?"
"Give it up."
"Eh? Do you? Well, so do I—for the present. But I will put the question in another form."
"All right."
"Who is dead, the Unknown, or—"
"Give that up, too."
"Guess we'll have to—just now."
"Sure."
"What do you think of the poison theory?"
"I think she's right."
"Good! We agree; but that brings up an additional point."
"Sure."
"The doctor."
"Yes."
"We must find who attended the two victims, acting upon the supposition that they were victims."
"Precisely."
"Very well, that is your work; skip."
"Correct."
"Meet me to-morrow night at sundown at the front entrance of Cliff Castle."
"I'll be there."
Ten minutes later Chick left the house, arrayed in the costume of a country boy, who was chiefly in the habit of pushing a plow and wielding an ox goad.
Then Nick, still in his dress of the old farmer, broad-brimmed hat, long coat, checkered pants, and nondescript carpet-bag started for the office of the lawyer, Greenleaf.
It proved to be a finely appointed place in one of the big office buildings down town, and everything bore evidence that the attorney had plenty of money to spend for fittings and luxuries.
Mr. Greenleaf was in, and fortunately disengaged.
Indeed, Nick came at once to the conclusion that he was disengaged most of the time.
"Be yew Jim Greenleaf?" he drawled, when he stepped into the lawyer's presence.
"I am James Greenleaf, yes, sir. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I sorter opine that yew kin dew considerable ef so be's yew gotter mind to. Yew see I've hearn of yew through some frien's o' mine, an' I sorter calkerlate that yew're jest the proper party fur me."
"Ahem! What is your name?"
"Peabody—Nathan Peabody, son of ole Dan Peabody, an' my gran'father—"
"My dear sir, I don't care anything about your genealogy."
"—fought in the Revolution. Don't, eh? Well nuther do I. Howsumever, be yew the chap wat sends folks to insane asylums?"
Nick asked the question in a manner that was simplicity itself, and his expression was nothing but the wildest kind of an interrogation.
Nevertheless the query hit the mark, for which it was intended, and he saw the lawyer give a slight start.
Then he scowled and demanded:
"What do you mean by that, sir?"
"I mean that I've got a darter whose gone crazy, an' I wanter send her away. I was talkin' with Lon Westbrook about it, and he said—"
"Where do you live?"
"Up the Hudson, jest tween West P'int an' Newberg."
"Ah!"
"Lon tole me a yarn about somabody's goin' crazy an' tryin' ter claim Cliff Castle, an' yew sent him to an asylum, so I thought mebby yew'd send my gal up fur me."
"I can't do it, Mr. Peabody."
"Can't, eh? Why not?"
"It is not in my line."
"Why, Lon said 'twar jest in yewr line."
"Lon was mistaken; besides—"
"Fire away, Jim."
"Mr. Greenleaf, if you please."
"All right; besides what?"
"You will have to call upon the doctors for service of the kind that you require. A lawyer only assists in cases of unusual importance where estates depend upon the decision."
"Oh, yes; I see. Like that air case Lon war tellin' about, hey?"
"Exactly."
"That was a queer case, wasn't it?"
"Very."
"Was it a feller 'r a gal that yew sent up?"
"I had nothing to do with her being sent to the asylum, my dear sir. That was the doctor's part of it. My work was to prove that she was sane. Now you must excuse—"
"To prove that she war sane. Gosh a' mighty! was she?"
"Certainly not, or—"
"Then if she wasn't, wat in thunder'd yew wanter prove that she was fur, hey?"
"I am very busy, Mr. Pea—"
"Say."
"Well?"
"Who war the doctors wot sot on her, hey?"
"You must—"
"I wanter git 'em to set on my Julie."
"Really I—"
"Private hearin', warn't it? That's wot I want."
"Look here, Mr. Peabody, do you see that door?"
"Yas; I noticed when I came in that 'twar kinder out of plumb. Yew'd better—"
"You see it, do you?" said the lawyer, rising to his full height, and Nick saw that he was a very large man.
"Course," he replied.
"Well, go through it."
"Wot, me?"
"Yes, you."
"Now?"
"At once."
"I ain't ready yet."
"Then get ready."
"Bimeby."
"If you don't go through it at once, and, voluntarily, it will be my unpleasant duty to throw you through it."
"Ye don't mean it."
"I do mean it."
"Throw me through that door?"
"Yes."
"What fur?"
"I have told you a dozen times that I am busy, and that I don't want you here."
"No—only three."
"Will you go?"
"Bimeby. Say! Wot 'r yew gittin' huffy about? I ain't said nothin' tew rile yew."
"Will you get out, or shall I throw you out?"
"Yew'd better not."
"Why?"
"I have fits sometimes. Allers do when somebody grabs me. Mebby yew didn't ketch my name."
"Damn your name."
"Wot's that? Say, I've licked fellers fur less'n that, 'fore now."
The lawyer could stand no more.
He made a grab for Nick, and got grabbed himself instead.
Big as he was, he found himself whirled around as though he was a babe, and the next instant he sat down in his chair with a force that made his teeth rattle, and caused stars to dance before his eyes.
"I told yew I had fits," drawled Nick. "It's my private opinion that yew'd make good manure fur my pertater patch," and he turned and abruptly left the office.
As he was about to take the elevator, a veiled woman stepped out of it.
She started imperceptibly when she saw the farmer-looking individual, and then murmured:
"Nick Carter! I wonder what he was doing here?"
THE veiled woman who left the elevator went directly to the office of James Greenleaf.
"Have you had a caller?" she asked him, as soon as she had entered his private room and closed the door behind her.
"Yes."
"Who?"
"A fool of a countryman from up the river."
"What did he want?"
"He's got a crazy daughter, and he wants her sent to an asylum."
"Ah!"
"But it's my opinion that he's crazier than the daughter."
"And it is mine that you are crazier than either of them."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Tell me what he said, first."
"I have told you."
"He wanted to send his daughter to an asylum?"
"Yes."
"Why did he come to you?"
"A friend sent him."
"Who?"
"Somebody who had heard about the case of Clarita Downing."
"Exactly."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it is what I expected."
"What you expected?"
"Yes."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply this; your caller was no other than Nick Carter."
The lawyer bounded from his chair, surprise, rage, doubt, and fear at once expressed upon his countenance.
"Why do you say that?" he demanded.
"Because it is true."
"Are you positive?"
"Yes."
"How do you now?"
"I met him in the hall."
"Well?"
"I have seen him in that disguise before."
"And you are not mistaken?"
"I am never mistaken."
"That is true. If you say it was Nick Carter, you must be correct."
"I am."
"Did he know you?"
"No."
"You are equally sure of that?"
"Of course."
"Why did he come here?"
"Have you no suspicion?"
"No."
"Well, fortunately, I can tell you."
"Do so."
"I will. If I had been an hour earlier you would have been on your guard."
"I don't understand."
"You are becoming stupid."
"What do you mean?"
"She has escaped."
"Who?"
"Clarita Downing."
"Escaped!"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Four days ago."
"How?"
"She pretended to be very ill, Played the part perfectly, and when the opportunity came, walked out and took the train for New York."
"This is incredible."
"It is true."
"Where was Spleen?"
"Asleep."
"Did he try to catch her?"
"Yes."
"And failed?"
"Yes."
"But he traced her?"
"Certainly."
"Where?"
"To New York."
"Oh! Where is he now?"
"Who, Spleen?"
"Yes."
"In New York."
"Has he found any trace of her since his arrival here?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"He has found her satchel."
"Where?"
"At the Hotel Norwood."
"And Clarita?"
"Is not to be found."
"She will return for the satchel."
"I doubt it."
"Why?"
"Simply because Nick Carter has been here."
"What does that prove?"
"That she has gone to him."
"Well."
"He is far too shrewd to allow her to go back for the satchel."
"You think he has taken her case?"
"Without doubt."
"And concealed her?"
"Surely."
"Where?"
"Probably in his own house."
"Do you know where that is?"
"Yes."
"What is to be done?"
"There is only one thing to do."
"What is that?"
"She must be enticed away."
"A difficult job."
"All things are possible. We must get Clarita in our clutches again."
"And then—"
"She must be put where she cannot escape."
"Right. Apoplexy is a fatal disease."
"Very."
"You think that she has told Nick Carter her story?"
"His coming here to see you proves it.
"He will be dangerous."
"He always is."
"But with her out of the way, he can do nothing."
"Unless he traces her death to us."
"Need she die?"
"Yes. Alive, he would find her again and we would have our trouble for our pains. Dead, he will have no principal for whom to work, and we will take good care to cover up our tracks so that he can do nothing with us."
"Ugh!" muttered the lawyer. "I would hate to have you for an enemy. But, I say!"
"Well?"
"Suppose she cannot be enticed from Carter's house?"
"Then there is only one course left for us."
"What is that?"
"A more difficult job than the other one."
"Name it."
"Nick Carter must die."
The lawyer again sprang to his feet.
"I think if that could be accomplished," he said, "I would feel quite comfortable."
'Quite."
"What will be your first move?"
"To secure the heiress."
"How will you do it?"
"I have a plan."
"Am I in it?"
"I think not. If I need you, I will let you know."
"Are you going?"
"Yes"
"When will I see you again?"
"Perhaps in an hour; perhaps not for a week. In the meantime I have a warning word for you."
"What is it?"
"Be extremely careful what you say to strangers."
"I should say so."
"Any person, man, woman, boy, girl, or negro whom you don't know is likely to be Nick Carter in disguise."
"I will remember."
"Do so."
"You will have Burton to help you on this deal, I suppose."
"Yes."
They parted, the woman not having lifted her veil once.
When she left the office, she went at once to a carriage, which was waiting for her at the curb, and was driven rapidly to the Fifth Avenue Hotel.
As soon as she was in her room, she rang the bell.
"Has a gentleman called for me since I went out?" she asked of the bell-boy.
"Yes'm."
"Where is he?"
"Waitin' in the parlor."
"Tell him that I will be down at once."
"Yes'm."
Five minutes later she walked into the parlor.
A tall, middle-aged, sinister, but, withal, distinguished looking gentleman rose to greet her.
He was Dr. Spleen.
They retired to afar corner of the saloon, where they could converse without being overheard.
"Well, doctor, what luck?" she asked.
"None."
"You have found no trace of your patient?"
"None."
"The satchel has not been claimed?"
"No."
"It won't be."
"You think so?"
"I know it."
"Why?"
"Because I know where your patient is concealed."
"You have found her?"
"I know where she is hiding."
"Tell me, and I will secure her without delay."
"Easier said than done, doctor."
"Faugh! Is she not my patient?"
"Yes."
"Regularly declared a lunatic?"
"Yes."
"Well, what is to prevent my taking her?"
"You are in New York. Your asylum is in Canada—"
"You forget that she was committed to my care in this country, and that I have another resort on this side of the border. Where is she?"
"In the house of Nick Carter."
"Who is he?"
"Don't you know?"
"I do not, and care less, except to know where he lives."
"You will go to his house and claim her?"
"Certainly."
"Nick Carter is a detective."
"I don't care if he is four detectives."
"Well, you have about named him. He is certainly equal to four."
"I will get my patient just the same."
"Good, I will let you try."
"Give me the address."
"Here it is. And now a word more."
"Say it."
"You are well paid for your care of this patient."
"So well that I have no idea of losing the amount."
"Good! If you capture her, you shall have a thousand dollar bonus."
"Thanks; I will call for the check to-morrow."
"It will be ready; but you are not going after her this evening?"
"At once."
"It is now nearly eight o'clock."
"No matter."
"What will be your method?"
"I shall simply demand my patient."
"It won't work. You must use strategy."
"Faugh!"
"And, doctor?"
"Well?"
"Whatever means you use, you will fail."
"It will be the first time."
"You will fail."
"Why do you insist upon that point?"
"Because I know Nick Carter."
"We will see."
"Yes, we will see. You will report to me in the morning?"
"Yes."
"Be here in the parlor at ten."
"Very good."
"Good-night."
"Good-night."
NICK was smoking a cigar in his study when Peter banded him a card.
He glanced at it, and then uttered a low whistle of surprise.
"Doctor Archibald Spleen, eh?" he mused. "Well, the fellow has got a cheek and no mistake! I wonder if I am the only detective in New York, that both sides have to come to me? Doctor Spleen! well, I'm very glad that he has called. It will save me some trouble."
The detective rose and went to the sitting room, where his wife and Clarita Downing were chattering and sewing.
"Miss Downing," said Nick, "who do you think is down stairs?"
"Of course I do not know."
"Doctor Spleen."
"Doctor Spleen!"
"Yes."
"But why is he here?"
"He is probably looking for you?"
"Oh, but you will not let him take me away!"
"Indeed I will not. I think it a mere chance his coming here. The probability is that he has traced you to New York, and found your satchel, and as you did not call for it he has decided to employ a detective to find you. Somebody has recommended me, and here he is."
"I don't agree with you," she said.
"Well, what is your idea?" asked Nick.
"Either I have been followed here, or in some way my enemies have learned that I am in your care," she replied.
"Why do you think so?"
"Because he would not dare to employ a man like you to find me. It is a woman's reason, perhaps, but I believe it to be a good one."
"It may be. Well, I will go down and be interviewed."
"Are you Mr. Nick Carter?" asked Dr. Spleen, abruptly, when Nick entered the reception-room.
"That's about the ticket, doctor," replied Nick, who was still in the habit of the countryman, although the dress was considerably modified, to be more in keeping with his surroundings. "What can I do for you?"
"I am told that you are harboring an escaped lunatic," said the doctor, going straight to the point in a way that proved rather amusing to Nick.
"You are, eh?" he replied.
"Yes."
"Who told you?"
"That is my business."
"Indeed."
"I am the physician in whose charge the person referred to has been placed, in accordance with the law of the land."
"You don't say so."
"You doubtless heard me"
"Well, yes I did."
"I demand that you deliver up my patient."
"Wait, you go too fast. What is the name of your patient?"
"Her name is unknown."
"Really."
"Yes."
"Then how are we to identify her?"
"By her appearance."
"And her illusions, eh?"
"Exactly—her mania."
"What is her mania?"
"She believes herself to be the heiress of a large estate, and calls herself Clarita Downing."
"Ah, yes; I think I remember the case. Something queer about it, wasn't there, doctor?"
"I did not come here to be questioned, sir, but to secure my patient."
"Have you the commitment papers with you?"
"I have copies."
"Permit me to see them."
"First, is she here?"
"I thought you were positive on that point."
"I was so informed upon the best authority."
"Who gave you the information?"
"A person who knows."
"Indeed."
"Who, in fact, saw her enter this house."
"She must then be known to that person."
"She is."
"In what way?"
"I am not obliged to answer your frivolous questions, sir.
"Neither am I obliged to admit that your patient is in my house."
"I will force you to do so, sir."
"In what way?"
"By taking legal measures."
"That would occupy some time."
"What of that, sir?"
"Why, simply that in the interim, admitting that your patient is here, I could conceal her elsewhere."
"That would not protect you."
"Why not?"
"You would be beholden for her just the same."
"Granted; always provided that you have proof that she was here."
"She is here. I know it."
"I will admit that much; she is here; but have you the proof?"
"I have."
"Produce it."
"When I am forced to do so I will."
"Oh!"
"Will you give her up?"
"Not without sufficient proof covering two points."
"What are they?"
"First, that she is here; second, that she is a lunatic, which, permit me to say, I doubt."
"You do, eh?"
"Yes."
"I can satisfy you on that point."
"Do so."
"Examine these papers."
"With pleasure."
Nick seized the papers extended to him, and immediately copied the names of the physicians who had signed them.
Then he returned the commitment without reading it.
"You have not examined it," said the doctor.
"I have no wish to do so."
"Why not?"
"I have got all that I want from them."
"The names of the doctors?"
"Yes."
"Will you give up my patient to my custody?"
"I may if you will answer my questions."
"What do you wish to ask?"
"Who sent you here?"
"I will not answer that; the lady wished that her name should not be mentioned."
"Oh, it was a lady, then?"
"Yes."
"Was it the lady whom you know as Miss Downing?"
"I know of no such person."
"Ah! was it then the lady whom you once knew as Miss Downing, but who now bears another name?"
"It was not."
"Who pays for the maintenance of your patient?"
"How does that concern you?"
"Simply that I want an answer."
"The person to whom you just referred."
"Who was once Miss Downing?"
"Yes."
"So she told you that your patient was here?"
"No, she did not. I have not seen her."
"Are you telling me the truth?"
"Do you mean to insinuate that I lie?"
"Well, yes; that's about the size of it."
"You scoundrel! If you were not in your own house—"
"Hold on, doctor. If I was not in my own house I would pitch you out of it for those words. I may, as it is; I have fits sometimes."
"Faugh!"
"My sentiments to a T."
"I demand my patient, sir."
"Keep on demanding."
"You refuse to give her up?"
"I certainly do."
"You said if I would answer your questions you would do so."
"No; I said I might. I have decided not to do so."
"Then I will take her."
"You will. I beg your pardon, but what did you say?"
"I said I would take her."
"When?"
"Now."
"How will you do it?"
"By force."
"You begin to be amusing, doctor."
"Do I?
"Yes."
"Will you give up my patient?"
"No."
"Then take that!"
With a quick motion the doctor drew a short locust stick from his coat. It was just such an implement as the police use to bring refractory prisoners to terms. As he drew it forth he made a lunge for Nick, striking with all his might.
If the detective had received the blow he would have been struck senseless to the floor.
But the little giant was not to be caught napping in quite so easy a manner as that.
He saw the motion which the doctor made when he drew the club, and he was prepared for it.
Leaping lightly to one side he dodged the blow that was aimed at him.
At the same instant that terrible fist of his shot out like a battering ram, and the belligerent doctor, smitten upon the side of his head, went down as though hit with a hammer.
But his was a hard head, and he was not stricken senseless.
Nick did not follow up his advantage, because he felt that there was no need.
In an instant Dr. Spleen was upon his feet again.
With a deep oath he drew a long knife from his pocket, and dashed at the detective.
But again Nick was ready for him.
He took just one step backward, and then raised his right foot in a kick of which a mule might well have been proud.
His toe hit the doctor exactly upon the wrist, and the knife flew from the physician's nerveless grasp and clattered to the floor.
Following up his advantage this time Nick bounded forward, and in a second the doctor felt himself seized in a grasp of iron.
He struggled, but uselessly.
There was no escape from that clutch when once it settled upon a man.
Peter, Nick's servant, having heard the noise of the struggle, suddenly appeared.
"Open the door into the street, Peter," ordered Nick, at the same moment lifting the now helpless but struggling physician from the floor, as though he were a child.
Peter obeyed.
The door was thrown wide open, and Nick started toward it with his burden.
The doctor struggled and yelled, cursed and swore, begged and bribed.
But there was no let up to Nick Carter when once he set out to do a thing, and in a moment more Dr. Spleen was hurled like a bundle of rags head foremost into the street, while Nick withdrew into the house, closing the door after him.
ON the following evening, just at dusk, a young negro paused before the great gate in front of the mansion which was known far and near as Cliff Castle.
He looked eagerly around him, and presently he espied a woman with a heavy basket on her shoulders toiling up the road toward the castle.
But she paused before she reached him, and seated herself upon a stone underneath a clump of bushes.
The young negro regarded her closely for a moment, and then slowly approached.
"Are you gwine to de castle, ma'am?" he asked.
"Yes, Chick, I am," came the reply in Nick's voice.
The woman was Nick Carter, and the negro was his assistant, Chick.
"Well, what have you discovered?" continued Nick.
"Considerable."
"Good. Let us hear it."
"I know who the doctor is who attended Philip and the woman who died."
"Who is he?"
"His name is Maurice Burton."
"Live around here?"
"Lives at the Castle."
"Ah!"
"Is in fact, master there now."
"What do you mean by that?"
"He is the husband of the woman who passes as Clarita Downing."
"Good. When were they married?"
"About a month ago."
"So lately, eh?"
"Yes."
"What more?"
"They don't live happily together. In fact, they spend most of their time in quarreling."
"Where did you learn so much?"
"I have been helping the gardener."
"Ah!"
"I have seen Burton."
"What sort of a man is he?"
"A devil."
"So much the better."
"A second Dr. Quartz."
"Humph! Did you talk with him?"
"Yes. He has engaged me as hostler. I'm working in the stable."
"You're a trump, Chick."
Nick then related to his assistant all that had occurred on the preceding day, for it was his policy to keep his assistant as well informed as himself.
"I only came up to get your report, Chick," he said, in conclusion, "for I thought you would get a job here somewhere, and stay. Remain here until further orders; keep your eyes and ears open, and if ever you get a chance look for Package '17-A.'"
"Sure."
"I'm off now."
"Where away?"
"Back to the city. The trail is hottest there, judging from appearances.'
"How will you get back to-night?"
"There is a train on the West Shore road that I can catch, and it will get me in about midnight."
"Why are you so anxious to get back?"
"Well, I think they will make some bold attempt to get hold of Clarita, and I want to be there when the music begins. They are a desperate lot, Chick, and bound to win at any cost, if they can."
"How many are there in this thing, anyway?"
"Three at least, and don't know but more. By the way, find out where the body of the cousin is buried, will you? I may want to investigate the grave a little."
"O. K."
Nick hurried away, and just caught his train.
At midnight he was in New York, and shortly before one o'clock in the morning he entered his own house.
There was an air about the place that seemed oppressive when he entered.
The house was no quieter than usual, and yet his heart beat strangely with a foreboding of evil.
He was so impressed with the idea that he hurried at once to his wife's room.
It was empty.
"Ethel!" he called, but received no answer.
"Strange!" He murmured. "Where can she be at this hour?"
He went to the sitting-room.
There was the fancy work upon which his wife and Clarita had been engaged. Everything seemed to be in perfect order, but neither Ethel nor Clarita could be found.
Suddenly the detective uttered a cry, and bounded forward.
Upon the floor was a cambric handkerchief that belonged to his wife, and it was saturated with blood.
For once in his life Nick nearly lost his self-command, but he quickly regained his composure, for he realized better than any one else could, that he must work quickly and thoroughly if he wished to overtake the scoundrels who had broken into his home that night.
That something had happened he knew at once, but the full extent of the crime that had been committed he had yet to learn.
The change that those few moments had wrought in the detective's face was a startling one.
Since discarding the disguise of a female, which he had worn during his short interview with Chick, he had worn none whatever.
He was Nick Carter in his own proper person, and for once in his life he permitted his face to betray the emotion that he felt.
There were deep lines across his forehead. His lips were set so tightly together that the blood receded from them, leaving them as white as marble. His eyes flashed fiercely, ominously, and yet were full of pain, and his entire face had the drawn and haggard appearance of one who is suffering more than mortal agony, while possessing the fortitude to bear it without a murmur.
"Wait, Nick, wait a moment," he murmured. "Wait until you pull yourself together a little, old man. If ever you needed all your cunning, all your skill, all your shrewdness, and all your strength, you need it now."
Nick seldom talked to himself, but now his reason was arguing with his emotional nature, and unconsciously he expressed himself aloud:
"Villains have been here," he continued; "villains who make war against defenseless women, and who seek to be revenged upon me by injuring those I love.
"Let them beware! Let them beware!"
If they could have seen his face as he uttered those prophetic words they would have shuddered with apprehension; they would have trembled for their safety.
Then he began a careful and thorough examination of the house.
"Ethel was sitting here and Clarita was there," he murmured. "They must have been taken totally by surprise, for there is no evidence of a struggle, except that handkerchief."
Suddenly he darted from the room and hurried to that which Peter, his servant, occupied.
"Ah!" he cried, as he opened the door.
Peter was stretched upon his bed, bound hand and foot, so that he could not move, and with a gag in his mouth, which effectually prevented him from making a sound.
It required but a moment to set him free.
The man was almost unconscious, but Nick soon brought him around.
"Now, Peter, talk, and talk quickly," he said.
"I know almost nothing, sir."
"Where were you when you were attacked?"
"In bed, sir."
"How long ago did it happen?"
"The clock struck twelve while they were binding me, sir."
"Great Heaven, why was I not one hour earlier!" cried Nick. "Go on, Peter; how many were they?"
"Four."
"All men?"
"No, sir. One woman."
"Did you see her face?"
"No, sir; she was veiled."
"Did you see the faces of any of the men?"
"They wore masks."
"Were they tall or short?"
"One was a very large man. The others were of medium height."
"Did you hear their voices?"
"Nobody spoke but the woman, and she only once."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Stick a knife into him; it's easier and quicker.'"
"She was bossing the job, then?"
"I think so."
"What did they do after they bound you?"
"The woman leaned over me, and I thought she was going to carry out her own suggestion about the knife, but she only whispered."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Tell your master that this is only the first move in the game we are playing. Next time we will come for him, for I have sworn to have his life.'"
"Oh, I wish they would come now—all of them!" muttered Nick. "Go on, Peter; did they go away then?"
"I think so."
"Had they been to the other rooms before they came here, or were you the first one whom they called upon?"
"I think I was the last, sir."
"Why?"
"Because they were not over careful about keeping still."
"Yet they did not talk."
"No, sir."
"Did you hear any noise before you were attacked?"
"Not a sound."
"Were you asleep?"
"I think I was, sir."
"Did you notice any peculiarity about any of them that would help me in my search?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Are you able to travel, Peter?"
"Yes, sir,"
"I want you to do an errand."
"I am ready, sir."
"You purchased a ticket for me this morning over the West Shore road. Do you remember?"
"Yes, sir."
"Buy yourself a ticket for the same place and take the first train that you can get. When you reach your destination inquire your way to Cliff Castle, and find Tony Johnson, the negro hostler."
"Yes, sir."
"Tony is Chick."
"Yes, sir."
"When you have found him tell him all that has taken place here."
"Yes, sir."
"Find out from him who was absent from the Castle to-night, and tell him to keep an eye out for everybody who goes there."
"Yes, sir."
"Now start. Lose no time. Get all the information that you can, and hurry back with it. I will be here at midnight to meet you."
"Yes, sir. Have they hurt my mistress, sir?"
"I don't know, Peter. They have carried her away, and God knows what horrible torture they may subject her to before I can rescue her. Go, Peter, go!"
When Nick was alone he began again his work of investigation.
He commenced at the front door, seeking to discover how they had gained admittance to the house.
"The lock was picked," he mused, "and by an expert, too. There is a woman's hand in all of this work, and the men are only tools.
"But how did they know that I was away to-night? They would not have dared to come unless they had known positively that I would not be here."
IT was daylight when the detective finished his investigations in his own house.
He knew that it was absolutely useless for him to attempt to follow any probable course that the abductors of Clarita and Ethel might have taken until he had exhausted every possible opportunity of ascertaining their identities or their whereabouts from some clew which might have been dropped while they were in the house.
But search as he might the bloody handkerchief and the little knowledge of the affair that Peter possessed comprised the only information to be gained.
Just before daylight he took his way to the station-house of that precinct, and asked for Billy Jermyn, the officer who had the beat past his house from six o'clock until midnight.
"Billy," he said, "where were you at half-past eleven last night?"
"On the corner just below your house, sir."
"That is where you are relieved?"
"No; I am relieved on the corner above."
"Then between half-past eleven and twelve you were constantly in the vicinity of my house?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you notice the carriage that stopped at my door?"
"I can't say that I noticed it; I saw it though."
"Ah, you saw it."
"Yes."
"At what time was that?"
"About 11.45."
"It stood at my door for some time?"
"It was still there when I left the beat for the station-house."
"Did you see the person who left the carriage when it stopped?"
"I didn't see her face."
"But you saw her."
"Yes."
"Did she enter the house immediately?"
"She went up the steps and pulled the bell. I suppose she went right in."
"You did not notice whether she did or not?"
"No."
"Was she alone?"
"Yes."
"What sort of a carriage was it?"
"A stunner."
"A what?"
"A ripper. About as fine a turn-out as I ever saw."
"Describe it."
"Well, I don't know as I can very well, for I was more taken up with the whole style of the rig than with the carriage itself."
"You thought I was receiving a high-toned call at a late hour, eh?"
"That's exactly what I thought."
"Well, I was; only unfortunately I was not at home, and my caller neglected to leave her name and address."
"She must be a very rich woman."
"Why?"
"Well, she couldn't afford such a turn-out if she wasn't."
"She had a coachman and a footman, eh?"
"Two coachmen and a footman."
"Indeed."
"Yes; the two coachmen sat up like-broomsticks on the box, and a footman rode on the step behind the thing. He got down and opened the door, and stood there holding it while the lady went in."
"What color were the horses?"
"Black."
"Good ones?"
"Fine."
"From which direction did the carriage come?"
"From Fifth avenue way."
"And you did not see it when it drove away?"
"No."
"Did you look at it again while it remained there?"
"Yes, several times; but I was too far off to see much."
"I suppose the coachmen remained in their places."
"Come to think of it, they didn't."
"Ah! What did they do?"
"I noticed that they had got down from the box, and supposed they were at the horses' heads."
"But you are not sure?"
"No. My relief came up, and I hurried away."
"Did you mention the carriage to him?"
"No,"
"Who was your relief?"
"Jim Mulligan."
"Is he on the post now?"
"He's just coming in: there he is at the door."
"Thanks. That will do for the present."
"Nothing wrong, I hope, Mr. Carter."
"I hope not."
Nick turned away and accosted Mulligan.
"You saw the carriage at my door when you went on your post at midnight?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"How close did you see it?"
"I walked past it."
"At what time?"
"About 12.05."
"Were the coachmen on the box?"
"There were no coachmen there."
"Indeed. Who held the horses?"
"A boy."
"Did you speak to him?"
"Yes."
"What did you say?"
"I asked him where the driver was."
"His answer?"
"I will give his exact words."
"Please."
"'They're signin' some papers in dere,' nodding his head at your house, 'an' dey guv me a case fur holdin' de hosses, see?'"
"What did you do then?"
"Walked on."
"Did you see anything more?"
"Saw the carriage drive away."
"When?"
"About fifteen minutes later."
"Which way did it go?"
"Toward Fifth avenue."
"Two coachmen and a footman, weren't there?"
"Two coachmen, but no footman."
"Ah! Which way did the carriage turn when it reached the avenue?"
"Down."
"Good. Now, do you know the boy who held the horses?"
"Very well."
"You do, eh?"
"Yes."
"Can you find him?"
"Any time."
"Which would you rather have—your sleep now, or twenty dollars?"
"The boodle."
"Then come with me and find the boy."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Nick spoke to the sergeant at the desk, and readily got permission for Mulligan to go with him.
A half-hour later the boy who had held the horses was rubbing his sleepy eyes before them.
"What's your name, young man?" asked Nick.
"Patsy."
"Are you sleepy?"
"You bet."
"Will that wake you up?" and he handed Patsy a five-dollar bill.
"You bet."
"Put it in your pocket and then answer my questions."
"You mean it, boss?"
"You bet."
"Keyreckt."
"You remember holding some horses about midnight, when this officer spoke to you?"
"You bet."
"How long did you hold them?"
"Twenty minutes 'r so."
"Who asked you to hold them?"
"The driver."
"Weren't there two drivers?"
"Yep."
"And a footman? Weren't there three men in livery?"
"Yep."
"What did they do when you took charge of the horses?"
"Went into the house."
"As they were?"
"What d'ye mean by that?"
"Didn't they alter their dress?"
"No."
"Or carry a bundle in with them?"
"Yep, one of 'em did."
"I thought so. Now, when they came out what did they bring with them?"
"One kim out fust an' sent me away."
"Did you go?"
The boy winked knowingly.
"You staid around and watched?"
"You bet."
"What did you see?"
"Seed the rest of 'em kim out."
"Did they carry something with them?"
"You bet."
"What was it?"
"A woman."
"They carried her, eh?"
"Yep."
"And then—"
"They went back and got another."
"How near were you?"
"Two doors away in the area."
"Did the persons whom they brought out struggle?"
"Nope."
"Are you sure?"
"Dead folks don't struggle."
"Do you—do you think that they—were dead?"
"You bet."
"Why?"
"Cos they looked so."
"What did you do then?"
"Skipped."
"Ran away?"
"Yep."
"Patsy, if you had followed that carriage you would have made your fortune."
"How?"
"Never mind that now. Do you want a new suit of clothes?"
"You bet."
"New hat, boots, a jackknife, and five dollars more to put in your pocket, all in silver quarters?"
"Say, boss, do I look green?"
"No."
"Well, wat is ye playin' me fur anyhow?"
"I want you to work for me for a day or two."
"Are ye in earnest?"
"Entirely."
"Then I'm yer huckleberry. When d'ye want me to come?"
"Now."
"Where to?"
"Lots of places."
"Say, this ain't no swipe game, is it?"
"You know this policeman, don't you?"
"Ole Mully? Well, I should snicker!"
"Would he be in on a swipe game?"
"Nope."
"Then ask him if you can trust me."
"I'm satisfied, boss."
"Are you ready to go now?"
"Yep."
"Then come along."
NICK took Patsy directly to his house, and there disguised both himself and the boy so perfectly that nobody would have recognized them as being the same persons.
While thus engaged he gave Patsy full instructions regarding his conduct during the day, and the gamin proved a willing and apt pupil.
It was ten o'clock in the forenoon when they went again upon the street, and Nick was a perfect representation of a middle-aged, well-to-do gentleman, who had unfortunately become blind, and who therefore had to be piloted around by a boy.
Patsy was the boy.
They went directly to the Potter Building where Greenleaf's law office was located, and presently they entered it.
But they were doomed to disappointment, for Greenleaf was not in.
From there Nick went at once to the main office of the telephone company.
One after another the principal hotels of the city were telephoned to, and the question asked:
"Have you a guest at your house named Spleen, a physician?"
From the Hoffman House came the reply:
"We have had, but he left this morning."
"Did he leave his address?" was next asked, and the reply came:
"No."
Nick was at a stand-still for the moment.
His plan was to have Patsy lead him to Greenleaf, to Spleen, and to Burton, one after another, in order that the boy might have a chance to recognize one or all of the men whom he had seen in charge of the carriage the preceding night.
"We will wait until noon for Greenleaf, Patsy," he said, "and if he does not come then I think I know where to find him."
At half-past twelve they called again at the lawyer's office, and were told that Mr. Greenleaf was in, but engaged.
"Say to him," said Nick, with great dignity, "that I wish to consult him for just five minutes. I will not detain him longer than that. I am also in a great hurry. I came to him because I have been sent. I would go elsewhere, but my infirmity renders such a course difficult, where I am a stranger."
The clerk disappeared into the private office, and Nick placed himself so that he could see through the opening door when he came out again.
Presently the door opened and the clerk came out.
"Mr. Greenleaf will see you in one moment," he said.
But both Nick and Patsy had seen much in that brief interval when the door was opening and shutting.
Patsy's position was such that he saw the lawyer at his desk.
Nick's was such that he saw a man whose face he had never seen before, but who, from Chick's hurried description, he knew to be Dr. Burton.
"Good!" he thought. "If Spleen is only there also I'll have them dead to rights. I'll take the bull by the horns anyhow."
Patsy had turned to him, and hurriedly whispered:
"I saw one of 'em, boss."
"Are you sure?"
"Dead certain. He had whiskers on his face when he was playin' coachee, but I'd know the twist o' that air nose anywhere, an' besides—"
"Well?"
"He's got a way of winkin' with both eyes an' his front piece all ter once."
"That's so."
"Well, I seed him do it last night, an' I seed him jest now w'en the door opened."
"All right, Patsy, that settles it."
It was then that Nick decided, as he expressed it, to take the bull by the horns.
He rose and went over to the clerk, who was busy writing.
"My friend," he said, "do you see that?"
The clerk looked.
What he saw was a six-shooter with the muzzle within two inches of his nose.
"Yes—yes, sir," he replied, trembling violently:
"Good; where does that door lead to?" indicating a door at the extremity of the room.
"To a little closet where the wash-bowl is."
"Thanks. Oblige me by going into that' closet."
"What for, sir?"
"Because I wish you to do so. If you place any value upon your life you will obey."
"Yes, sir."
He jumped up, and hastily entered the closet.
Nick closed the door behind him, and turned the key.
"Now, Patsy," he said, "there's likely to be a row."
"Looks like it. boss."
"If you're afraid light out."
"I'll see it through, boss."
"Good; but look out for breakers."
"You bet."
Nick then approached the door which led into the private office.
He listened attentively for a moment, but could only catch the murmur of voices. No words were intelligible.
"Suddenly he turned the knob and threw the door wide open.
There were three men inside, and they rose to their feet in astonishment when Nick thus suddenly appeared in the open door.
They were Greenleaf, Burton, and Spleen.
"What does this mean?" cried the lawyer, leaping to his feet in a rage.
"It means," replied Nick, coolly, and presenting his two trusty revolvers, "that I am an officer, and that you are my prisoners. The first man who moves goes down, never to rise!"
"This is an outrage!" cried Greenleaf, not daring to move. "Who are you?"
"I am Nick Carter."
He uttered the words very slowly, but that they had a most salutary effect upon the three scoundrels became at once more than evident.
They turned perceptibly pale, and Spleen muttered an oath or two.
The only cool one in the crowd was the one called Burton.
He smiled sarcastically as he asked, in an easy tone:
"Is this not rather a high-handed proceeding, Mr. Carter?"
"Well, yes," answered Nick, "but you discounted it last night."
"Last night?"
"Yes."
"I don't understand you."
"You will later."
"What do you mean?"
"Just what I say. Step forward, Patsy."
"Here I be, boss."
"Do you recognize these men?"
"Two of 'em."
"Which two?"
"T'other two."
"But not the one to whom I am talking?"
"No."
"You are positive about the others?"
"Yep."
"What is the charge against us?" asked Burton.
"Abduction."
"Abduction! that is a serious offense."
"Well, rather."
"Have you a warrant?"
"I don't need one."
"Yes, you do," broke in the lawyer.
"Well, I'll do without it anyhow. I'll take you in and serve the warrant afterward."
"We will resist you."
"Try it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I will kill the first man who offers any resistance."
"You insist upon arresting us?"
"I do."
"Are you trying to extort money from us?"
"No."
"What then?"
"Information."
"About what?"
"About the two ladies whom you forcibly abducted from my house last night. Satisfy me that they are unharmed, and conduct me to them, and you may go free for the present."
"For the present?"
"Yes, so far as this charge is concerned."
"We know nothing about the abduction of any ladies."
"You lie!"
Burton shrugged his shoulders.
"You went to my house last night at midnight," said Nick. "Two of you played coachmen and the other, footman; your passenger was a woman, one of the two who take turns in playing the part of Clarita Downing."
The statement was almost pure guess-work, but the little giant instantly saw that he had guessed correctly.
"The woman entered my house, and you followed. You surprised my wife and the real Clarita Downing, and took them prisoners, seizing them from behind, and using chloroform to silence them.
"One of you used a knife; I think it was the woman.
"Then, fearful that my servant might have heard you, and feigning sleep in order that he might follow you and so find out where you went, you proceeded to his room, bound and gagged him, and left a message for me. That message I received, and I am here to tell you that I am ready to have you fulfill the threat here and now."
"Then take that!"
The ominous words were spoken almost in Nick's ear, and it was the voice of a woman who uttered them.
At the very instant that they were uttered the detective felt a sharp pain in his side.
It seemed to paralyze every nerve in his body, and for one brief instant to render him helpless.
That one instant was enough for his enemies.
They leaped forward with one impulse when Nick was stabbed from behind by the veiled woman, who had entered with the stealthy tread of a cat, and who, taking in the situation, had acted at once.
As Nick staggered from the blow of the knife he received another one on the head from a paper-weight in the hands of James Greenleaf, and he sank to the floor senseless.
Then they turned upon Patsy, but the boy had lost no time.
He ducked his head, and started like a young ram for the door.
Spleen endeavored to stop him, but he was ignominiously butted over, while Patsy dashed on out of the office, yelling at the top of his voice:
"Help! murder! mur-r-der-r-r!"
"IS he dead?" asked the woman, coolly, pointing at Nick's body upon the floor and addressing Burton.
"Find out," he replied, hastening toward the door. "I've got business somewhere else just now."
Greenleaf and Spleen dashed after him, leaving the woman alone with the unconscious detective.
"Cowards all!" she murmured, in a tone that was as chilly as a November wind.
Then she bent over him.
"No, he is not dead," she muttered, "and I will never have a better chance to finish the work than now. With Nick Carter out of the way, I have only to get rid of these others, and I am secure.'
She drew the poniard again; the same one with which she had already stabbed the detective once, and bent over him, sinking upon one knee.
She placed the point of the poniard against Nick's throat, and was about to press the glittering weapon deep into his flesh.
She had, indeed, pricked the skin, when a stern voice from the outer room demanded:
"What's the trouble here?"
Instantly she concealed the poniard in the folds of her dress, and cried out in a voice in which fright was well assumed.
"Oh, sir! Come quick! Quick!"
Then she threw back her veil, disclosing a rarely beautiful face—a face that one would have sworn belonged to Clarita Downing.
She was so beautiful, that despite the horror of the scene, the man who entered stared at her for an instant in utter amazement.
Then he recovered himself.
"What has been going on here?" he demanded.
"Murder, sir," she replied, chokingly. "See!" and she pointed to Nick's body.
Then breathlessly:
"I was passing the door when three men and a boy rushed out. The boy held a knife in his hand, and the men were pursuing him. Somebody cried 'murder!' They left the door open. I started to run, and then I heard a groan from this room. I entered. I don't know why; and I found him. Oh, sir; is he dead?"
"No, he breathes," replied the man, bending down.
"Thank God! Oh, I am so glad! So glad! I will run for a doctor! I know where there is one near here! I will hasten!"
She turned and darted from the office, before the man could offer an objection.
"Hold on!" he cried after her.
But she was gone.
"Poor girl!" muttered the man, who was left alone with Nick, "she was frightened almost to death; and I don't wonder. Gad, wasn't she a beauty, though.
Then he turned his attention to Nick.
But where did the veiled woman go?
She hurried to the stairs and went up, not down.
Up until she reached the top floor, and there she entered the office of a lawyer.
She raised her veil, and astounded him by her rare beauty. She gave him a fictitious name and a fictitious address. She told him a harrowing tale of wrongs that she had suffered, and said that she wanted a divorce from her husband. She went into the most minute particulars, with tears in her eyes and with becoming modesty, maddening modesty, in fact, so that the lawyer became her champion at once. She remained there three hours, while the attorney drew up her complaint. She swore to it, and made him promise that he would have it served at once.
When she went away she left fifty dollars with him as a retainer, and then she walked quietly out of the building.
The next day that lawyer received a note, signed by the same fictitious name that she had given him, which said that she had become reconciled to her husband, and the complaint need not be served.
Thus he never knew that the name and the address were fictitious, and he often related the incident to his friends as one end of a remarkable romance, describing her as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
When Nick opened his eyes, the room was full of men.
They had come in from every room on that floor.
Officers were there, too, and so was Patsy.
Instantly Nick, for reasons of his own, decided to make light of the occurrence.
It was the blow from the iron paper-weight that had knocked him senseless.
The stab was a very slight one, it having glanced from one of his ribs without doing much harm.
He said nothing of the stab, until one of the men noticed the blood upon the floor.
"Bah!" said Nick; "it is nothing. We had a row; I was knocked down. You can take me in if you want to, but I shall make no charge against the others."
Thus the affair passed off.
In the meantime the clerk, who was a prisoner in the closet, had heard just enough of what had occurred to be paralyzed with terror.
During the entire excitement he made no sound, fearing the consequence to himself, if he did so, and the result was that when the crowd left the office, he was still locked in.
But Nick winked at Patsy, and Patsy noiselessly turned the key, so that later, when all was still and the clerk tried the door, he found that he was free.
"Patsy, you're a trump!" exclaimed Nick, when they were again in the street, "and you may work for me just as long as you care to stay. But we have no time to talk of that now."
"Where now, sir?"
"I want you to go to the Grand Central Depot and remain in the waiting-room of the Hudson River Railroad."
"I'm off, you bet."
"Wait! What are you going there for?"
"To watch for them fellers."
"Right! They will be disguised, Patsy."
"If I see 'em, I'll know 'em."
"I hope so."
Nick, himself, hurried to the depot of the West Shore Railroad, as being the most likely place for the men to seek, in case, as he suspected, their destination was Cliff Castle.
He told Patsy, before starting, that in case he got track of the men at the Grand Central, he was to hurry to the West Shore Depot at once.
The detective's head ached from the effect of the blow that he received, and there was a sharp pain in his side where the poniard had wounded him, but all physical pain was as nothing when compared to the mental strain under which he was laboring on account of the disappearance of his wife, and the mystery regarding her fate.
He arrived at the West Shore Depot just two hours after the exciting scenes in the office of James Greenleaf.
He had adopted a disguise in which he had no fear of being detected, that of a man-o'-war's man out for a holiday, and just about half-seas over, and with him he carried concealed the paraphernalia for other and equally effective disguises.
He had not been waiting at the depot more than an hour and a half, when he started and smiled with inward satisfaction.
Approaching him were two people whom he instantly recognized, although they were very thoroughly gotten up to represent two countrified "old folks," who had been on a pleasure trip to New York.
The woman, he acknowledged to himself, he would not have known; but he "tumbled" to the man at once, and therefore knew his companion as well.
The man was.Burton, and the woman was the Unknown—the veiled mystery.
"Good!" thought Nick. "They are on their way to Cliff Castle. Spleen and Greenleaf have probably gone the other way, and Patsy may recognize them. If he does not, no matter."
He purposely put himself in the way of the aged couple as they approached.
"Ahoy, there, messmate!" he said, huskily; "can you steer me to the craft wot's weighin' anchor fur West P'int?"
"Do you mean the railroad train?"
"Ay—ay, my hearty."
"You take the same train that we do. Follow us and you will be all right."
"Thankee kindly, messmate."
Burton and his companion passed on, and Nick followed.
They were soon in the train, and the detective took a seat directly in front of that occupied by Burton and his companion.
He thought they might let drop a few words which would be interesting to him, and he was not mistaken.
FOR a long time they did not speak, but when more than half the ride was gone over, he heard Burton say:
"We had a close call, my dear."
"Sh-h-h!" she replied.
"Bosh! We're out of it now."
"Well, wait until we get to the Castle before you talk."
"I'm sorry you didn't lay that fellow out entirely."
"Will you stop talking?"
"Yes, when I say one more thing."
"What is that?"
"Do you think he was hurt badly enough to keep him in bed for a while?"
"Yes, I do."
Another half-hour passed.
The man-o'-war's-man was sound asleep and snoring.
"What's the first move now?" asked Burton, in a low
tone of his companion. "
"Don't you know?"
"Well, yes, I do."
"Then why ask?"
"It seems a pity to put an end to two such beautiful creatures as those—"
"Hush!"
"Well, they are beautiful. Not so beautiful as you are, my Queen of Hades."
"They must die."
"Ah, well; I suppose so!"
"And so must the others."
"Eh?"
"Greenleaf and Spleen."
"With all my heart."
"To-night."
"Certainly."
"There never could be a better time."
"Why not?"
"There will be a warrant out for them; they will disappear. It will be thought that they have left the country to avoid arrest."
"You're a charmer, Zel."
Nick started.
"Zel!" he thought. "Ah, yes! I never saw her face but once, and that was in the flash of a bull's-eye lantern. No wonder that I did not know it at once. Now, I can account for the something in Clarita's face that seemed familiar, and which I could not place. Zel, eh? All right, Zel, we will meet again."
"You're not going to do the whole thing to-night, are you?" continued Burton, after another pause.
"Why not?" asked Zel.
"Four cases of apoplexy in one night will be a good many."
"Bah! These will not be apoplectic, but—"
"I see. What will you do with the—"
"Hush! I will take care of that."
Suddenly Burton leaned forward and shook Nick roughly, but he had to continue it for some time before he succeeded in waking him.
At last, however, he leaped to his feet, and shouted:
"Eight bells! All han's—hello, what craft is this, anyhow?"
"You get out at the second station," said Burton. "I thought I'd wake you."
"Thankee kindly, messmate," and Nick arose and went into the smoking-car.
There he found a place in which to make a marvelous change in his disguise.
He knew that Burton and Zel would leave the train at the next station, and he knew that he must leave with them.
He had heard enough to know that it was the fiendish woman's horrible purpose to murder Ethel and Clarita that night, and that he must act quickly, if he succeeded in saving them from a horrible fate.
Nick Carter left the train on the side opposite to that on which Dr. Burton and his companion got off.
The night had become pitch-dark, and a few leaps took the detective well out of view of everybody about the station, while, on the other hand, he could plainly see all that took place within the circle of light around the depot.
Standing thus, and at the same time working rapidly, all semblance of the man-o'-war's-man quickly disappeared, and in his place stood a stout, sturdy-looking Irishman in the dress of his native country, with the tall crowned hat, the ungainly shoes and leggings, and the general trim of a native of the north of Ireland.
He quickly tied his naval attire in a red bandana handkerchief, and cut a stout stick from the bushes near where he stood.
Thrusting one end of the improvised shillelagh through the knot, he swung it over his shoulder. He had, in less than five minutes, transformed himself into a veritable representation of an immigrant, who had just arrived in the New World.
The aged couple whom he had followed, started away together just as Nick completed the change, and he instantly pursued them, having drawn a pair of rubber-sandals over the soles of his shoes, so that he would make no noise on the road.
Then he crept forward rapidly.
The darkness was so intense that he could not see the objects of his pursuit, but he stole close enough to hear the murmur of their voices, without distinguishing the words of their conversation.
Suddenly, when they had walked more than a mile, there was a bright flash in the road ahead of the detective.
Burton was lighting a cigar.
In the momentary and spasmodic flashes of the lighted match, Nick made a discovery.
He was no longer following an aged couple, but Dr. Burton and the woman Zel in their true characters.
They had taken advantage of the darkness to discard their disguises, doubtless feeling entirely safe from observation, and confident of their immunity from discovery.
The walk lasted a long time, and thrice Nick nearly lost track of the conspirators in the darkness, as they made a sudden turn.
When they had traversed about three miles—the sound of their voices suddenly ceased, and Nick paused irresolutely and listened.
But he heard nothing.
He was standing underneath the spreading branches of a long row of elms, but the blackness of the night prevented him from seeing anything beyond them.
Suddenly, from beyond the trees, he heard the deep bay of a hound, and then a stern command uttered in a man's voice:
"Down, Satan!" said the voice.
He recognized it instantly as belonging to Burton.
"Ah!" he muttered. "Here is the Castle, and I have got to get past that blood-hound in order to gain admittance. Well, I have undertaken harder jobs than this one, and I must not fail now."
He knew perfectly well, the importance of every moment.
He knew that the woman Zel had determined to murder both Clarita and Ethel that night.
She might set about her fiendish work at once, or she might delay the double crime for a while.
Nick argued that there would necessarily be some preparations to make, and he felt that he might safely count upon an hour, before the danger to his wife and Clarita would be imminent.
His first care would have to be to get past the ferocious dog, without alarming the people in the castle.
It was no easy undertaking, reader. Put yourself in his place; imagine that you are stealing surreptitiously, and in the night, upon a house which you know to be guarded by a huge dog, as powerful and as savage as a tiger, and you will better understand the position in which the great detective found himself at that moment.
But there was no time to be lost.
He must advance without delay, if he hoped to save his wife and the beautiful Clarita from the terrible fate which threatened them.
Presently, he stole cautiously forward.
Soon he could see the windows of Cliff Castle from several of which lights gleamed out in the darkness.
On he went, every sense upon the alert for the dog, which he expected at every instant to pounce upon him.
But as he proceeded, he heard no sound until suddenly, right in front of him, almost at his feet, he heard a low, deep growl.
The trying moment had arrived.
He was given no time to think.
Immediately following the growl, he dimly saw a huge, dark body hurl itself through the air at him, and then the blood hound was upon him.
The brute had been rightly named Satan.
Nick had no weapon in his grasp.
He had not been given time to draw one.
But as the dog launched itself forward, he seized it by the throat with both hands.
A man of less prodigious strength than the detective would have fallen a prey to the ferocious brute at once, but even the animal's strength was not great enough to overcome that of Nick Carter.
In seizing the dog he had been fortunate, for in the darkness he had not been able to calculate upon the act.
However, both hands encircled the creature's throat, and then he squeezed with all his might.
The dog could not bark; he could not even growl.
He could not bite, for his jaws were distended by the terrible choking, and he could not close them.
But he could struggle and scratch with his massive claws, and for three or four minutes the ordeal was the worst that the detective had ever experienced.
To release his hold, however little, meant death.
If the beast should gain the slightest advantage, he would make the most of it.
It was a question of hanging on, for both of them, and the one who hung on the best was the one who would come out of the fight victorious.
In the struggle, Nick fell to the ground, and then he and the dog rolled over and over in a mad effort for victory.
Not a sound escaped either of them.
The dog could not make one, and Nick knew that if the occupants of the Castle should hear aught of what was going on, there would be no hope left of rescuing those whom he had come there to save.
Suddenly the strength of the dog seemed to give way.
Nick's hands were clenched so tightly around his throat that he could not breathe.
Even a dog's strength is not proof against such severe punishment as that.
Nick realized that he was winning.
He choked harder and harder.
At last the animal's body began to grow lax.
The dog's struggles were weaker with every effort.
As suddenly as they had commenced, they ceased altogether, and at last Nick dared to remove one hand from the brute's throat, and with it he drew a knife.
Then, with careful precision, he drove the weapon through Satan's heart.
The dog was dead.
Beyond a few scratches, and the great exertion that he had been obliged to undergo, Nick was entirely uninjured.
He took the precaution to drag the body into the shrubbery, for the fight had occurred in the pathway, and then he continued on his way toward the house.
It was soon reached.
A glance showed him the way to the stables, and he hastened along, intent upon finding Chick, if he could.
The stable-door was locked, but the lock was an ordinary one, and in a trice Nick had it open.
He passed in, and immediately drew his bull's-eye lantern.
He pushed back the mask which hid the light, and the ray fell upon the face of a young negro, who was standing directly in front of him.
The negro was not ten feet away, and he held a revolver in either hand, both of which were pointing directly in front of him.
It was Chick.
They recognized each other instantly.
"Chick," exclaimed the detective. "I am glad that I have found you so soon."
"So am I. How did you get past Satan?"
"Killed him."
"How?"
"Choked him to death."
"Get bitten?"
"No."
"Good!"
"Can you get into the house?"
"You bet."
"How many are there there?"
"Seven."
"Seven!"
"Yes."
"Who are they?"
"Doc Burton."
"Yes.
"Zel and Miss Downing, but nobody knows which is which."
"Why?"
"Because they are exactly alike."
"You say there are two."
"Yes."
"Have you seen them together?"
"Yes."
"Do they appear together, as a rule?"
"No, never."
"But you have seen them?"
"I have."
"One is called Zel."
"Yes."
"Have you recognized her, Chick?"
"Recognized her!"
"Yes."
"No."
"Does her face strike you as at all familiar?"
"No."
"She is the woman who tried to put my eyes out with vitriol, when we had our last set-to with Quartz."
"Well—well!"
"That's what I said."
"I see it all now."
"I thought you would. You have named three. Who are the other four?"
"Servants."
"Men or women?"
"Two women; one man."
"Will they be in our way?"
"The man may, and one of the women."
"CHICK, do you know that they have two prisoners here?"
"No, who?"
"Where have your eyes been?"
"Miss Downing sent me away; I suppose the prisoners were brought here while I was gone."
"Probably."
"Who are they?"
"Ethel and Clarita."
"What?"
"It is true."
"Explain."
"There is no time now. Have you seen Peter?"
"No."
"Not at all?"
"No."
"Then he is also a prisoner."
"What makes you think so?"
"I sent him here."
"To see me?"
"Yes."
"I have not seen him."
"Burton and Zel just got back."
"Yes, I heard them."
"They mean to murder Ethel and Clarita to-night."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"We will prevent them."
"Come now."
"No, wait. They will do nothing for an hour at least."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because I know their habits."
"Have you any idea where they would confine the prisoners?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"In what they call the 'west end.'"
"Where is that?"
"At the other end of the house."
"Do you know the approach?"
"Yes."
"How do we get in?"
"There is only one way."
"What is it?"
"Through the house."
"We will have to pass the living rooms?"
"Yes."
"Then we had better wait a while."
"Yes."
"Now, how much have you discovered since you have been here?"
"Considerable, and yet not much."
"Who is Burton?"
"The husband of one of them, of Zel, or the cousin?"
"The story of the death was a fake."
"Certainly."
"You don't know which one is the wife of Burton?"
"No; but I suspect—"
"What?"
"That he married the cousin."
"Doubtless."
"And that he is in love with Zel."
"Ah!"
"She is the prime mover in all this work."
"Of course."
"The other—the cousin, is little better than a dummy."
"Why?"
"She isn't straight here," and Chick tapped his forehead significantly.
"What is the cause?"
"Zel."
"Ah!"
"They both. Burton and Zel—want to get rid of her entirely."
"I see."
"I think they mean to do it to-night."
"Doubtless."
"If we weren't here to interfere, it would be a regular carnival of murder."
"Well, we are here, Chick."
They were silent for a moment.
"Hark!" whispered Nick, suddenly.
Then he turned and leaped through the door, out into the darkness.
He had heard somebody approaching the house, and he guessed who it was.
Keeping in the shadow of the shrubbery, he crept toward the great front door. Just as he gained a point where he could see it opened, in the light that shone out, he recognized the lawyer Greenleaf and Dr. Spleen.
They had lost no time in reaching the castle, although they had been obliged to cross the river in the night.
They were disguised, but so imperfectly that any one who knew them and was on the lookout for them would have found no difficulty in recognizing them at once.
"The seven has grown to nine, three of whom I know to be desperate men," mused Nick.
He started to retrace his steps to the stable, when he fancied that he heard a movement among the bushes near him.
He paused and listened attentively.
But the sound was not repeated.
Two or three minutes he waited, and then, hearing nothing, he started on again.
Again he heard the noise.
It was very slight, but yet enough to attract his attention.
In an instant he knew that he was followed by some person or thing.
To be followed meant to be exposed, and under the circumstances he could not risk that.
What to do in order to capture the shadow was the next thing.
He thought it over carefully for a moment, and then started on again.
The noise again pursued him.
It was such as a wild animal might make in creeping after an intended victim of whom it intended to make a meal.
Suddenly, when a right point was reached, Nick turned and leaped backward in the direction of the sound.
The motion was so quick that the unknown shadow had no time to dodge him.
It was there, and Nick seized it.
For a moment there was a fierce struggle, and then Nick realized that he had seized a mere lad.
Like a flash, it occurred to him that it was Patsy who had followed the two men.
Holding the lad so that he could not move, he bent over and whispered:
"Is it Patsy?"
"Yep."
"Good! Get up, Pat, and follow me."
"Sure, ye've choked me most to death, so ye have."
"Never mind now. You're a good boy. Come on."
"I'm a-comin'."
They were soon in the stable where Patsy and Chick were speedily made known to each other.
"Now, Patsy, how did you get here?" asked Nick.
"On the train."
"How did you cross the river?"
"On a little steamboat, be gob! no bigger'n a row-boat."
"Describe it; I may want to use it before daylight."
"Sure, they jes' lighted suthin' with a match, and purty soon the boat started."
"A kerosene launch."
"Yep."
"Can you find it again?"
"You bet."
"Is there anybody with it?"
"Nary a body."
"The two men came over together?"
"Yep."
"How did you come?"
"Sure, I kim wid 'em."
"What, in the same boat?
"You bet."
"Didn't they see you?"
"Divil a see."
"How did you manage it?"
"I followed them to the boat after we left the train."
"Well."
"They forgot something, and wan of 'em went back fur it. While he was gone, the other went away about a rod."
"Yes."
"It was my chance, an' I tuk it."
"How?"
"Sure, I clim inty the boat."
"And hid yourself."
"Yep. I laid down under the seat where they had to set. Sure the boat wasn't big enough to hide anywhere else."
"Lucky they didn't find you, Pat?"
"You bet."
"Do you know what they would have done?"
"Yep. Chucked me in the river."
"Yes after chucking a knife into you first."
"Well, they didn't see me, see?"
"All this is very well, Patsy, but you didn't obey orders."
"Nope."
"Why didn't you?"
"No use."
"Why?"
"Knowed you was gone."
"How?"
"Heered Doc and the counselor talkin'."
"Ah! What did they say?"
"Said t'other two had gone t'other way."
"Well?"
"I knew you'd folly 'em, and so wouldn't be there-at the West Shore Depot when I got there ef I went; so I didn't go."
"All right, Patsy."
"Thought I might be of use here, and here I am."
"You're a brave boy, Patsy."
"I ain't afeared, anyhow."
"That's right. There is hot work ahead to-night, Patsy."
"Be I in it?"
"I don't know."
"Lemme, will you?"
"You might get hurt."
"Wot of it?"
"Or even be killed."
"Well, wot o' that? Killin' don't hurt much, I guess."
"Have you got any weapons?"
"Two fists an' a bit av a stick."
"Here's a revolver; take it."
"Tanks."
"Now, Chick, come on."
"It's a little early yet."
"Even so. I would rather face a dozen men, single handed, than stand here and do nothing. You know the way into the house?"
"Certainly."
"And to the west end, when once we are inside?"
"Rather."
"You can take us in without noise?"
"I can."
"Good! Take off your shoes. Patsy, off with yours. Now, let there be no sound; not the slightest breath to betray us. There are four men in that house, any one of whom will kill us if he can, and there is one woman who is more to be feared than all the men put together. Are you ready, Chick?"
"Yes."
"And you, Patsy?"
"Yep."
"Come, then."
Chick led them to the back part of the house, but instead of approaching a door, he went to one of the windows that formed the conservatory.
"I fixed this for just such an emergency," he managed to whisper to Nick.
A moment more and he reached it.
Then he turned four little buttons which he had adjusted at a previous time, and the next moment a large part of the sash swung out, leaving an opening for them to enter.
IT must not be supposed that because the edifice was named Cliff Castle it was in any sense a castle.
It was simply a very large and rambling house, of the modern type, although quite old.
It stood upon an eminence overlooking the river, and from that fact had been named Cliff Castle.
The Downing family had been one of immense wealth, and nothing had been spared in making the place not only beautiful, but elegant.
Chick, as a colored hostler, had had but little opportunity for studying the interior of the building, but he had improved that little.
It was for that purpose that he had made the entrance by way of the conservatory, and on two occasions he had entered the house with his little masked lantern in hand, and had thoroughly learned the "lay of the land."
He knew enough to know that they had to pass through the part of the house that was most in use, in order to reach the west end.
He was satisfied that that was where they would find the prisoners, and events proved that he was right.
Chick led the way, because it was known to him. Patsy came next, and Nick brought up the rear.
Passing through the conservatory, which was filled with plants, Chick led them past some curtains, and they were in the dining-room of the mansion.
From there, out into the hall-way, past an open door, and toward another, which was also open, and from which a stream of light was thrown into the more dimly lighted hall.
Voices also issued from the open door, and listening, they heard the silvery but ominous laugh of the woman Zel, who was more fiend than woman.
Nick stepped in front of Chick, and motioned his companions to wait.
Then, prone upon the floor, he crept forward until he could peer into the room.
It seemed as though a general consultation was being held there.
There were two women present, and at first glance it appeared as though there were two Clarita Downings.
Both were exactly alike in feature and in dress.
The closest observer could not have told the difference.
When they spoke their voices were also the same, and in every respect both were counterparts of Clarita, who at that moment was a prisoner in some remote part of the house.
Besides the women there were the three men with whom Nick had already had one struggle.
Burton was speaking when Nick was near enough to catch the words that were uttered.
It was only the last half of a sentence that he caught, but it was suggestive, and he waited for more.
"—dangerous in the extreme, I tell you," he was saying, "and if there is another way I vote for it."
"Bah!" said one of the women, in reply, and instinctively Nick knew that she was Zel, "where is the danger?"
"Nick Carter is alive."
"Do you think he can trace them here?"
"Certainly."
"How?"
"He has already made a shrewd guess. He proved that by—"
"By sending his servant here, eh?"
"Yes."
"What of that?"
"A good deal."
"Bah! it was only guess-work."
"Granted. We made it certainty."
"How?"
"By capturing the servant."
"We could not do otherwise."
"No, but it will give us away."
"How?"
"Peter will not return."
"No."
"Carter will know what keeps him, and why he is kept."
"Well?"
"That will make his suspicion a certainty."
Zel laughed.
"Why do you laugh?" asked Burton.
"Because you are so simple."
"In what way?"
"My dear Burt, don't you suppose that we can fix Peter?"
"How?"
"By a little dose of medicine."
"Ah!"
"All we have got to do will be to dose him and turn him loose in New York."
"I see."
"He will be found; his mind will be gone; he will not know where he has been, and will never be able to tell anything that has happened. He will be sent to an asylum, and Nick Carter will have not the slightest clew regarding the spot where his wife perished."
"But he will suspect."
"Let him."
"He will hunt us down."
"And what will we be doing in the meantime?"
"Hunting him down, I suppose."
"Exactly."
"He will come here."
"I ask for nothing better."
"If he comes—"
He will never go back."
"You are a treasure, Zel."
"I am a winner every time."
"I believe you are."
"You know I am."
"Well, what do you propose?"
"That we get rid of the whole crowd to-night."
She looked significantly at the doctor as she spoke, and Nick saw a meaning glance exchanged between them.
He saw through her hellish schemes in an instant.
"They will play into my hands," he thought.
And they did.
"How will you dispose of them?" asked Greenleaf.
"Now, or after they are dead?" asked Zel, placidly.
"Well, in both instances."
"First we will dose them."
"Exactly, with poison?"
"Yes."
"How will you get them to take it?"
"Easily."
"But how?"
"In the water they drink, perhaps."
"They may not drink."
"Ah, well there is an easier way."
"How?"
"What matter, so long as I accomplish it?"
"None."
"Precisely."
"When will you do this?"
"In an hour they will be dead."
"What are we to do—Spleen and I?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"No; go to bed and go to sleep. When you awake the work will be done, and you will have had no hand in it."
"A good idea."
"Dr. Burton and I will attend to the work for all of you."
"For all of us?"
"Yes."
"That sounds as if—"
"As if I was letting you down easily, eh?"
"Yes."
"So I am."
"What rooms shall we take? I am tired out."
"The one you have had before and the one next to it."
"How do you like the scheme, Bell?" asked Burton.
"I leave it all to Zelma."
"Ah; that's kind of you."
A few moments later the two men, Greenleaf and Spleen, rose to leave the room, and Nick, followed by Chick and Patsy, hurried back into the dining-room.
From there he saw the men come out and ascend the stairs, and a moment later Bell followed, and doubtless went at once to her room.
Then Nick stole back again along the hall.
Again he peered into the room where Burton and Zel were plotting.
Zel had opened a small cabinet which hung upon the wall at one end of the room, and was busy selecting vials from the shelves that it contained.
"Do you mean what you suggested, Zel?" asked Burton.
"Certainly."
"You will kill them all?"
"All."
"Even Bell?"
"Even Bell."
"You forget that she is my wife."
They both laughed.
"I will make you a widower."
"That will be nice, but—"
"But what?"
"I won't remain one long."
"No?"
"No, Zel; you have promised."
"Good. I will keep my word when you are ready."
"Zel. I think your very fiendishness makes me love you more and more."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"You had better not forget to keep it up, then."
"Why?"
"I might serve you the same trick that I am serving your wife."
"Bah! I don't fear it."
"Why not?"
"You love me too well; I am too necessary to you."
"So you are, Burt."
"I am curious on one point."
"What is it?"
"You will have six dead bodies in this house in the morning."
"Yes, six. Well?"
"What in the world will you do with them?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing!"
"Exactly—nothing."
"But, Zel—"
"Well."
"Think of it! Six dead bodies. One can't dig a hole deep enough to hold them; one can't throw them into the river; one can't—"
"One won't."
"What will you do?"
"Leave them here."
"But what of ourselves?"
"We are going away."
"Going away?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"We will vanish."
"We will be pursued."
"You may. I won't."
"Why not you?"
"I will be thought to be dead."
"How so?"
"Fool! don't you see?"
"No."
"Isn't Bill supposed to be dead?"
"Yes."
"Wont two women who look exactly alike be found here, and won't I be thought to be one of them?"
BURTON started as though stung by a bee as soon as the full significance of Zel's words was realized by him.
"Ah!" he exclaimed. "I see!"
"Do you, really?"
"Yes."
"How bright!"
"I will be the only one known to have left here alive."
"Yes."
"And therefore I will be—"
"You will be more than ever in the power of the woman you love."
"You do love me, Zel?"
"Can you doubt it?"
"But when I am hunted as a murderer?"
"When that happens I will love you more than ever."
"Promise me that."
"I promise."
"You place me in a hard position by to-night's work, Zel."
"Too hard?"
"No, not if you ask it."
"I do."
"Then it is settled."
"That is right, Burt."
"Another question."
"Well?"
"What about money?"
"Do you think that I would neglect that?"
"No."
"I have not."
"What have you done?"
"Converted everything into cash that I could."
"How much did you get?"
"Between eight and nine hundred thousand."
"All cash?"
"All cash."
"And you have it here?"
"Yes."
"In this house?"
"Yes."
"About you?"
"Burt, do I look like a fool?"
"No."
"Do I act like one?"
"No."
"Wouldn't I be one if I should tell you where that money is?"
"Why?"
"Would you hesitate to take the game as well as the name?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you could place your hand upon that money you would not hesitate to leave me here a corpse with the others."
"Oh, Zel, Zel!"
"Oh, Burt, Burt! Don't be a fool!"
"But to think—"
"Yes, to think! Don't think. Act!"
"How?"
"Help me do this work."
"Willingly."
"When it is done we will go away together, anywhere, and we will live like royalty."
"We will."
While she was uttering the last few words she uncorked a little vial that she had taken from the cabinet.
When she ceased speaking she placed it to her nostril and seemed to test it by the smell.
Burton was watching her narrowly.
She took the vial away, and seemed to consider for a moment.
Then she placed it under her nostril again.
"I think I have a cold, Burt," she said.
"Why?"
"I cannot smell."
"That is unfortunate."
"Yes. I must make no mistake."
"For what are you searching?"
"A drug that smells like coffee."
"Is that it?"
"I don't know; I can't smell."
"Perhaps I can tell."
"I wish you would."
"Hand it here."
"Be careful and don't spill it on your hands."
"Why?"
"It would be worse than molten iron."
"It would?"
"Yes."
"You keep terrible stuffs, Zel."
"They are legacies from Dr. Quartz."
"He must have been a devil."
"He was."
"What should this smell like?"
"Strong coffee."
"I will tell you in an instant. There is no harm in smelling, is there?"
"No, certainly not."
He placed the vial beneath his nose and sniffed strongly.
Instantly he uttered a loud cry and staggered back, while the vial dropped from his grasp to the floor.
Zel paid no attention to him, but she leaped forward, seized the vial, and recorked it.
Meanwhile Burton was staggering blindly around the room.
He tried to call out, but could not.
Suddenly he tottered, and reeling, fell at full length.
She watched him for a moment with an evil smile upon her face; watched him until he ceased to struggle.
He was dead.
"One," said the heartless woman, and she laughed aloud.
Then she leaned forward, and gazed at her victim.
"What a sight Nick Carter will find when he comes here," she murmured.
"Everybody in the house will be dead, even the servants, and the best of science will not reveal what killed them.
"I will be dead, too, that is, they will think I am, for Bell and Clarita will represent Clarita and me.
"For once Nick Carter will be utterly foiled. His wife will be dead, and he will think her murderer dead, too.
"He will not even search, for he will consider that death has robbed him of his revenge.
"Ah, this is better than killing him, for it will break his heart.
"How I hate him! How I hate him!
"Poor Burt. I am rather sorry for you, but I could not risk letting you live.
"Let me see. How much time have I?"
She looked at her watch.
"The time is ample, but I must begin at once.
"Whom shall I visit first? There are only a few left to do for, because, unless I am greatly mistaken, Bell, and Greenleaf, and Spleen are already among the vast majority.
"There only remain the servants and the prisoners."
Even Nick shuddered at her coolness when she talked of the wholesale murders she was committing.
He judged from her words that she had arranged the death potion for the lawyer, the doctor, and Bell Burton earlier in the night, so that they had fallen victims when they went to their rooms.
He would have prevented the murders if he could, but there had been no chance.
All that he could do now was to watch the woman, and prevent her from doing more harm.
He thought of entering the room at once and putting the irons on her.
A second thought, however, persuaded him to wait.
Zel was talking aloud, and by listening he was gaining much information.
For a moment she seemed to hesitate whether to go at once to the commission of the other crimes that she contemplated, or to wait.
Presently she sank into an easy-chair, and lighted a cigarette.
For several moments she smoked on in silence, calmly regarding the body of the man who, only a few moments ago, had told her he loved her.
"I don't like to see that," she muttered finally.
There were heavy curtains in the room, half concealing a book-case, and she rose and pulled one of them down.
She threw it over the body of Burton, and reseated herself, continuing her smoking as calmly as though the corpse of her murdered victim were not lying at her feet.
Then she drew something from her bosom.
It was a little packet.
She undid it, and disclosed to the view of the detective a large roll of bills, a check book, and a bundle of certified checks.
"Here is the fortune for which I have toiled," she murmured. "I wonder if I will be content to live without killing somebody now? I doubt it.
"Murder is my pastime—my one pleasure.
"But I am forgetting. There is another package that I must investigate."
She went again to the cabinet where she kept her poisons.
Opening it she drew out a small package, carefully done up in red tape.
"'Package 17-A,'" she read. "I think I had better open this. It is the legacy that Philip left, and, no doubt, contains the mystic ring and other things equally valuable.
"Well, I don't care for it now. The fellow thought that he had hidden it where I never would find it, but he didn't know me; oh, no!
"Package 17-A," she repeated; "I wonder what the '17-A,' means? Nothing probably.
"Ah, well, I will leave it here in the cabinet until I have finished my work. Then I will take it with me and examine it at my leisure."
She put it back in the cabinet, which she closed and locked, after removing another vial, at which she glanced with the same sort of fierce fondness that a tigress displays when watching her young at play.
"Now for the final coup," she exclaimed, and with the vial in her hand she started toward the door behind which Nick was concealed.
For an instant he hesitated whether to let her pass or not.
By her own words he knew that the men who had gone up stairs were already dead, and that he would have no opposition in finding and rescuing his wife and Clarita when once Zel should be overpowered and a prisoner.
Realizing his power, and desiring to learn as much of the fiendish woman's plans as possible, he decided to let her go on, and to foil her at just the right moment.
Therefore, as she approached, he drew back.
She passed him with no thought that she was observed.
Humming an air from "Il Trovatore" as gayly as though she were upon an errand of no import whatever, she reached the stairs, and began to ascend.
WHEN the woman fiend reached the top of the stairs, still humming the air from "Il Trovatore," she paused and looked suddenly behind her, as if half expecting to see the shadowy spectral form of her dead victim hovering near her.
"Pshaw!" she murmured, and then moved on again, still singing.
If she had glanced backward an instant sooner or later she must have inevitably discovered Nick.
But she did not.
The wonderful luck of the Little Giant served him then as always.
When Zel looked back he was in the act of passing a statue of Apollo, which stood in the hall at the end of the balustrade.
He instantly crouched behind it, and thus escaped discovery.
She had no sooner got beyond the head of the stairs than with a rapid gliding motion Nick was after her.
Behind him, at a suitable distance, came Chick and Patsy, for he had motioned to them to follow him.
The woman Zel went straight to a door which communicated with a room at the front of the house.
She placed her hand upon the knob, then paused with seeming irresolution.
Suddenly she drew her handkerchief from her pocket, and with a quick motion bound it tightly around her face, so that her nostrils and mouth were completely protected.
Then she opened the door.
But even then she held one hand against the handkerchief, as if to press it more tightly in place, and so avoid breathing the poisoned air with which the room she was about to enter was filled.
The upper hall-way was almost shrouded in darkness.
A faint light glimmered away in the rear, which, however, afforded almost no illumination at the point where Zel was standing.
Thus Nick was enabled to get quite close to her, and he was, in fact, but a few feet behind her when she crossed the threshold of that fatal room.
It was lighted, and in contrast with the darkness of the hall seemed brilliant.
It was the room which Isabel Danton occupied, and which she had entered alive for the last time.
In the middle of the floor she was stretched, face downward, lifeless.
She had evidently fallen just as Burton had fallen in the room below, dying almost instantly.
"Two," muttered Zel, the word sounding hoarse and guttural as it forced its way through the handkerchief.
"She evidently counts her victims only as she sees them," thought Nick.
For a moment she bent over the prostrate form of her counterpart, then hastening to the windows she threw them wide open, thus permitting the air to circulate through the room of death.
For a full five minutes she stood thus.
Then she removed the handkerchief from her face, and reclosed the windows.
Returning to the dead body she bent over it, and a beautiful smile hovered about her rosy lips.
"Ay, you are beautiful," she murmured, "but you are dead. All beauty must die, and some day I must follow you.
"What made us so strangely alike, you and Clarita and I?
"For the resemblance between you and Clarita I can easily account, but for mine to you both there is no explanation.
"It is strange—strange—very strange."
For a moment she remained thus in silent thought. Then turning abruptly she extinguished the gas.
Nick had barely time to dart back along the hall to the place where Chick and Patsy were standing ere she appeared in the door-way, and rapidly approached them.
There was just time, however, for the Little Giant to give instructions for the furtherance of a plan which at that moment occurred to him.
"Chick." he whispered.
"Yes," replied Chick.
"You can easily find the room where Ethel and Clarita are confined?"
"I can."
"Listen, then."
"I am all attention."
"Isabel Danton is dead!"
"Where is she?"
"In that room."
"When did she die?"
"Since she came up stairs. I want you to go to that room, take the body of Isabel Danton in your arms, and carry her to the apartment occupied by Clarita and Ethel."
"All right."
"Leave the body there. Tell Ethel to place it in the bed, as though sleeping."
"Good."
"Also to fix up a dummy representing herself as sleeping, too."
"Good."
"Then turn the lights low, if any are there, and conduct Ethel and Clarita to the room from which you will have taken the body of Isabel. Do you understand?"
"Well, rather."
"Go now, for she is coming."
"But suppose she meets them in the hall?"
"She will not."
"Why?"
"I will see to that. Go."
All three concealed themselves upon the stairs until Zel had passed them, walking rapidly toward the rear end of the hall.
Then with a quick motion Nick indicated that Patsy was to accompany Chick, and the two hurried off to carry the well-laid plan into execution.
No sooner had they gone than Nick crept along the hall after Zel.
He thought he knew exactly where she was going, and he was right.
Again she resorted to the use of the handkerchief.
Again she entered a room, which was lighted like the first one.
There, upon the floor, were two bodies, still and cold in death.
They were those of the lawyer Greenleaf, and Dr. Spleen.
Here also Zel went through the same maneuvers, airing out the room to make it tenantable.
Then, gazing at the corpses of her victims she laughed outright.
Presently she lighted a cigarette, and between the flarings of the match by which she ignited it she murmured:
"So must perish all who stand in my way, whether actively or passively."
For a moment she regarded them, and then she turned toward the light.
Nick saw that she was about to extinguish it.
He knew that her next move would be to go to the room in which Ethel and Clarita were imprisoned.
He also knew that there had not yet been time for Chick to have carried into operation the plan which he had outlined.
Zel must be delayed.
In an instant he decided what to do.
With one quick leap, while Zel's back was turned toward him, he reached and seized the door.
Then he waited for her to extinguish the light.
It was done an instant later.
In the self-same second he pulled the door violently shut.
It slammed with a noise that could be heard throughout that massive edifice.
Then silently, and like a shadow, he retreated again to the stair-way.
He had no sooner reached it than the door opened, and Zel, looking perturbed and frightened, sprang into the hall.
She glanced quickly around her.
"Bah!" he heard her exclaim. "I wonder if I am getting nervous. It must have been a draught. And yet, from whence could it have come?"
For a full minute she hesitated.
Nick, in the meantime, was busily conjecturing what he should do to delay her still longer from visiting the room which he did not care to have her enter yet.
But it would not do for her to remain in the hall where she then was.
If she did so she would surely discover the presence of others, when Chick should conduct Ethel and Clarita to the place agreed upon.
Such a consequence would entirely frustrate his plans.
But he was left without the necessity of acting.
The inevitable good luck of the detective clung to him, even at that moment.
The violent slamming of the door had evidently unnerved the murderous woman.
"I will wait a little," she muttered.
And then, with that same rapid, gliding motion which seemed to be a part of her, she started toward the stairs where Nick was crouching.
He retreated rapidly.
She followed him down, and he still avoiding her line of vision darted through the open door which led into the darkened room that he had first noticed upon entering the lower hall, and which was next to the library, where the body of Dr. Burton was lying.
"Will she return to the library?" thought Nick.
But she did not.
She kept on through the hall, and entered the dining-room at the end of it.
There she speedily procured a light, and approached the sideboard.
Nick watched her from the hall.
He saw her open the sideboard, and take therefrom a bottle of wine and some cake, which she placed upon the table.
Then she seated herself, and began to eat and drink.
"Of all the cold-blooded devils that I ever heard of," thought Nick, "this woman is the worst, But her act gives me time for another little plan."
Leaving her to enjoy her gruesome lunch he hurried to the library.
It required but an instant to throw aside the curtain which covered the body of Dr. Burton.
"Now, Nick," muttered the detective, "if there ever was an occasion in your life for quick work you have it here."
And he did work quickly.
The disguise of the Irishman, which he had worn since leaving the train, disappeared like magic.
The room was full of mirrors, and was brilliantly lighted.
The detective could stand where he was and see himself in half a dozen positions by glancing from one mirror to another.
A moment's earnest study of the dead man's face was sufficient for a beginning.
In a trice Nick adjusted a mustache to his lip, trimmed it, and waxed the ends until it was the same shape as Burton's.
Next he moistened a felt pad which he took from one of his pockets, and with it stained his face to the swarthy hue of Dr. Burton's complexion.
Then he darted to the hall-way, and peered into the dining-room.
Zel was still eating and drinking.
He returned quickly to the library, and continued his work.
A wig of closely cropped black hair was placed upon his head.
Then with deft fingers he undid the collar and tie from the dead man's neck, and removed the coat and vest.
Taking off his own he donned those which had belonged to Burton, and then, with a few quick touches here and there, he stood revealed a perfect representation of the murdered physician.
Concealing his own costume in one corner of the room, after removing the leggings which he had worn as the Irishman, he hastened again into the hall.
He was just in time.
Had he occupied another moment he must have been discovered, for Zel was in the act of leaving the table, and he had barely time to enter the darkened room before she passed the door.
THE lunch which Zel had taken had evidently replenished her nerve as well as invigorated her body, for she came out of the room with a smile upon the beautiful face, which was such a contrast to her devilish nature.
She was, without doubt, prepared for the remainder of her fiendish work, and did not propose to delay longer.
Nick wondered what had become of the servants, of whom Chick had spoken.
Had she already made away with them?
She seemed to have no dread of interruption.
If they were still in the house, and alive, she must necessarily have given their proximity some thought.
But she did not seem to do so.
Possibly she had already murdered them.
Possibly she had dismissed them, and so spared their lives.
He also wondered if she would enter the library again.
He hardly thought she would, however, as there was nothing there that she required.
Her act in throwing the curtain over the body of Dr. Burton had convinced him that she did not enjoy gazing upon the features of her dead lover, and he had no fear that she would discover in that way the trick that he had played.
But although she paused at the door of the library and looked in she did not enter.
A moment only, and then she continued on her way toward the stairs.
Nick glided after her.
He had less fear of discovery now than before he had made the change.
In his present character he knew that he could frighten her.
He had heard enough of the voice of Dr. Burton to imitate it perfectly if occasion required, and he did not doubt that it would ere long.
Nick knew that Chick had had ample time to carry out his part of the program, and he was perfectly willing to allow the woman to proceed on her way.
Up the stairs, through the hall, and then off through a side corridor which led to the west end of the building.
Looking back as he was about turning down the side corridor he caught sight of Patsy, skulking in the hall.
He made a quick motion, which brought Patsy to him on a run.
"Is everything all right, Pat?" he whispered.
The boy nodded.
"Tell Chick to go to the library."
"Yep."
"To take the body of Burton and put it in the dining-room, under a table."
"Yep."
"Then to wait."
"Yep."
Nick followed Zel.
She went down the corridor to the end.
There, with a key, she opened a door.
It led into a room where a very dim light was burning.
Objects were scarcely discernible, and yet two beds could be seen in opposite corners of the room.
Both were half hidden by curtains.
To one of them Zel went on tiptoe.
It happened to be the one in which Chick had placed the corpse of the murdered Isabel.
In the dim light Zel could not see that the body was that of a corpse.
She could only see that it was the face of Clarita.
It was enough.
She let the curtain fall back into place, and as silently retreated.
Then she bound her face in the handkerchief as she had done before.
After that she poured into a saucer the contents of one of the little vials that she carried.
Then she struck a match and ignited it.
It burned like oil.
No sooner had the blaze mounted than she beat a hasty retreat.
She rapidly left the room and closed the door behind her, while Nick crouched in the corridor, close enough to the murderess to have touched her had he reached out his hand to do so.
"It is done!" she said, aloud. "Done, and I am free, with all that fortune at my command.
"My plans have worked, and I have won.
"Doctor Quartz was a great man, but as a woman I am greater than he ever was.
"Where he failed I have succeeded.
"I was an apt pupil!"
Apt, indeed.
She started along the hall, and Nick pursued her.
Down the stairs and again into the library.
She entered, at first not noticing that the body of Dr. Burton was gone.
Suddenly, however, she discovered it.
She paused, and for the first time a death-like pallor swept over her features.
"Where has he gone?" she breathed.
She looked furtively around her.
"He could not go away himself, because he was dead," she muttered. "What then?"
"Ah! the negro! I had forgotten him.
"But no! he could not enter the house, and beside he would not dare."
She was frightened.
"Perhaps I did not kill him," she said; "perhaps—pshaw! He was dead, dead, dead!"
"Burt!" she whispered; "Burt!"
"Well?" answered a voice behind her.
She wheeled like lightning.
As she did so she drew a revolver and fired it point-blank at the seeming apparition.
The act was done as quickly and as accurately as Nick could have done it himself.
Had he not been protected by the shirt of mail which he fortunately had on he must have been killed by the bullet.
As it was he stood unharmed.
Then he smiled.
"No use, Zel," he said, coolly, in the voice of Burton. "I am beyond that now."
"Beyond it?"
"Yes; I am dead."
"Bah!"
"Did you not kill me, Zel?"
"Kill you?"
"Yes."
"Then how are you here?"
"I am a spirit."
"A spirit!"
"Yes; shoot again. Your bullets pass through me. They cannot kill a corpse."
She was struggling with her fright, and struggling bravely.
She was terrorized, and yet had too much nerve to show it.
"Ghost or no ghost, I will kill you again!" she cried, and she raised the weapon.
Again she aimed it at his heart.
He stood unmoved.
She pulled the trigger.
The apparition only smiled.
"Try again, Zel," said Nick.
"Curse you!" she cried. "I will not believe that you are a ghost."
"And yet I am one."
"Why are you here?"
"For vengeance."
"Vengeance? Bah! Ghosts cannot injure one."
"Do you not fear me?"
"No."
"I will make you."
"You cannot."
"I will!"
"Do your worst."
"I will haunt you to the grave."
"Haunt away. You cannot scare me."
"You are a fiend."
"Ay, and fiends are not afraid of ghosts."
"Beware, Zel."
"Beware yourself! I am going to fire again, and this time at your head!"
IN all of the varied experiences which Nick Carter had been through, the exhibition of wonderful nerve manifested by the woman Zel, was the most remarkable that he had ever seen.
There was every evidence in her face that she did believe herself to be in the presence of the supernatural, and that she felt the consequent and nameless terror which such a belief inspires.
Yet, she bravely combatted the fear.
She remained face to face, unflinchingly, with the supposed ghost, nor did she give way for an instant to the terrible fear that was overwhelming her.
Twice had she fired a bullet at the apparition, and twice had it utterly failed to have any effect.
Yet, in spite of it all, she determined to make a third effort, and at the same time to try a new target for her skill.
"Stand where you are, if you are a ghost," she said, coldly; but with the coldness which was born of the ice-like fear at her heart. "If you are not mortal, my bullet cannot harm your head any more than your heart. If you are mortal, you will die."
"As others besides me have died to-night, Zel?"
She laughed nervously.
"No, not as they have died. They died without knowing that death was near them, while you can see it now in the muzzle of this revolver."
Nick realized that he must do something to prevent her from shooting.
He was about to leap forward and end it all then and there by making her his prisoner, when he suddenly changed his mind.
She was in the act of raising her revolver.
In changing his glance, Nick's eyes rested for the fraction of an instant upon the chambers.
Brief as the glance was, he saw that the chamber which would revolve into place for the next shot was empty.
He had nothing to fear from it.
In an instant he decided what to do.
"Wait, Zel," he said.
"Why should I wait?"
"I wish you to take deliberate aim."
"I will."
"Good; I will count for you."
"You seem to enjoy being shot at."
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because every bullet that you fire, as well as every portion of poison that you have administered, will one day recoil upon you, and but add to the tortures which you must endure when you are as I am, dead!"
"Bah! Do you think to frighten me?"
"No, you have proved that I cannot."
"Yet you insist that you are a ghost."
"Yes."
"If this bullet fails. I will be convinced."
"I will count for you."
"Count?"
"Yes."
"Count, then."
"When I say three, fire."
"I will."
"Take care of your aim."
"I will."
Nick had continued to talk, because he had contrived to take one of his own weapons from his pocket, unseen by her, during the conversation.
He held it behind him where she could not see it.
"Are you ready, Zel?" he asked then.
"Yes."
"You do not believe that I am Burt?"
"No."
"Who am I, then?"
"I do not know."
"Who could have gained admittance here? Who could have watched you at your work? Who could have seen you bend over the dead body of Isabel Danton? Who could have heard you laugh over the corpses of Greenleaf and Spleen? Who could have watched you when you went to the room where your two prisoners were confined, and ignited the drug, the fumes of which are so deadly? Who could have done all this, Zel, but I? And yet I was dead. Do you believe, now?"
"No."
"Who then am I?"
"There is but one man in all the world whom I fear."
"And who is he?"
"Nick Carter."
Nick laughed.
"Do you believe that I am he?" he asked.
"You may be."
"Yet I heard you defy him to-night."
"I did."
"You do not think that I am Nick Carter?"
"No."
"Nor a ghost. Are you ready to shoot?"
"I am."
"Very well," said Nick. "Aim at my forehead, straight between the eyes, and when I say three, fire."
"One!"
She raised the revolver, and pointed it at him.
"Two!"
Her lips were firmly set, and the detective could see that she was taking careful aim.
"Three!"
She pulled the trigger.
There was a loud report.
But it was Nick's weapon and not hers which was discharged.
He had carefully calculated the instant when she would pull, and had fired then.
The illusion was perfect.
Her nervousness was so great that she did not know that her own weapon had missed fire.
Yet the apparition stood there, immovable, and with a derisive smile that seemed to bid defiance to her murderous intention.
For an instant she gazed wide-eyed upon the man before her.
Then, without a sound, or a cry; with no warning whatever, she sank to the floor in a death like swoon.
"Her punishment has begun," muttered Nick; "but I have not done yet."
He hurried to the door.
Patsy was lurking in the hall.
He seized the boy, and took him with him into the dining-room.
Then the body of Dr. Burton was quickly pulled from beneath the table, where Chick had placed it.
Again the detective set to work making a change.
With Patsy's help, he was enabled to work much faster.
The coat, vest, collar and tie were replaced upon the dead man.
Then, when Burton's body was restored to its original appearance, the detective quickly bore it back into the library.
He placed it upon the floor in the position that it had occupied before he disturbed it.
Then, throwing the curtain over it, he went again into the hall.
Standing where he could watch all that happened in the library, he began another change, and in two minutes he was again the man-o'-war's-man who had ridden with Burton and Zel upon the train when they came from the city to Cliff Castle.
Just as he finished, Zel began to show signs of returning consciousness.
She opened her eyes and looked around her wonderingly.
Presently she espied, in the middle of the floor, the curtain which seemed to cover the body that had so lately been missing.
The sight revived her suddenly.
With a bound, she was upon her feet.
Another, and she reached the curtain, and seized it.
Then, with a quick motion, she snatched it away from the body that it concealed.
"My God" she cried. "Am I going mad? Have I lost my senses?"
She bent over the corpse.
She touched it with her fingers.
It was cold, and she started back, with a shuddering cry:
"Dead! Quite dead!" she cried. "And yet I saw him standing there but a moment ago—"
"Was he a ghost?" she whispered, glancing apprehensively around her. "Am I, indeed, haunted?"
Suddenly her fright left her.
"I am not hurt," she cried. "It is the living that I fear, not the dead."
Then she laughed, loudly, boisterously.
"Enough of this!" she muttered. "The time has come for me to leave. All are dead but the negro; I will let him live, ay, I will let him live. He—"
She happened to glance toward the door.
There stood the very person of whom she was speaking.
The negro was in her presence.
In an instant her hand flew to the weapon which had proved so futile against the apparition.
She raised it, pointed it at the negro, and pulled the trigger.
There was no explosion.
She tried again, but with the same result.
Then she threw it from her, and brought out the poniard with which she had meant to murder Nick in the lawyer's Office.
Grasping it in her right hand, she cautiously advanced.
The negro stood still. (The reader knows that he was no other than Chick.)
There was no evidence of fear in his attitude.
Noticing that fact, she hesitated.
"Where did you come from?" she demanded.
"From the stable," replied Chick, without using the negro dialect.
"How did you get here?"
"Through the conservatory."
"When?"
"Before you committed these murders."
"Ah! You are not a negro?"
"No."
"You are a detective?"
"Yes."
"You are Nick Carter?"
"No."
"Fool! Do you not know that in coming here, you have signed your own death-warrant?"
"No."
"You will never leave here alive."
Chick smiled.
"Why don't you kill me, then?" he asked. "You are certainly in good practice."
"I can afford to wait."
"You are disarmed, except for that poniard."
"Do you think so? When the moment comes, you will die, Nick Carter, and yet I will not move."
"I tell you I am not Nick Carter."
"Bah!"
"I am Nick Carter, Zel," and the man-o'-war's-man appeared in the door-way.
"Ah!"
For a moment she seemed startled.
"Well," she exclaimed; "what of it?"
"You are my prisoner."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Not yet, Nick."
"You cannot escape."
"I can and will."
"Not this evening, Zel."
"I will escape. Neither the detective nor the prison is made that can hold me."
"Zel, what have you done with Peter?"
"Who is Peter?"
"You know well enough."
"My memory is bad."
"Is he also dead?"
"Yes."
"He is not dead."
"Where is he?"
"Where, unless I liberate him, he will die the lingering death of starvation."
"I CAN find him," said Nick.
"You cannot, " replied Zel.
"I can try."
"Yes, and fail."
"I never fail, Zel."
"Why don't you ask for your wife?"
"I do not need to do so."
"You have found her?"
"Yes."
"You take the discovery gently."
"Why not?"
"She is dead."
"You are mistaken, Zel."
"I tell you she is dead."
"On the contrary, she lives."
"You lie!"
For reply, Nick turned and called:
"Ethel!"
A moment later Ethel appeared at the door, gazed a moment upon the scene, and then silently withdrew.
Zel was speechless.
Presently she spoke.
"You seem to be able to conjure up the forms of the
dead," she said, ironically.
"Yes—in this case."
"Does he live, also?" and she pointed at the form of Burton.
"No—he is dead."
"Ah, well, there is some comfort in that! Your wife lives, you say?"
"Yes."
"What of Clarita?"
"You admit that she is Clarita?"
"Of what use for me to deny it?"
"None."
"Is she alive?"
"Yes."
"And Isabel?"
"Is dead."
"And Greenleaf and Spleen?"
"Are dead."
"Indeed! You have the faculty of saving those who you wish to have live and permitting others to die."
Nick did not reply.
"You think that you can convict me of murder, don't you?"
"Certainly."
"How?"
"I saw you kill that man; I have ample proof that you killed the others."
"Are you a fool, Nick Carter?"
"I hope not."
"Where then is your proof?"
"I saw the deed."
"I will deny it."
"An autopsy will uphold me, Zel."
"On the contrary, it will not."
"We trifle."
"An autopsy will prove nothing. No trace of poison will be found. No mark of violence can be seen. There will be no way of accounting for these deaths, except as an unheard of coincidence that so many should die in the same house, on the same night, of the same disease."
"And that is—"
"Apoplexy."
"Ah! You have used it before."
"I have."
She was standing in the very center of the room, close by the body of Dr. Burton while she spoke.
Not once had she moved from the spot where she had stopped when advancing upon Chick, before Nick appeared.
In every expression she wore a wonderful air of self-assurance, as though she felt no fear of the men who stood between her and the door.
Nick could account for her manner in but one way.
He believed that she intended to defy them until the last minute, and then to kill herself by one of her own potent drugs.
But she had another reason, and it was soon to appear.
"We have talked long enough," she said.
"I think so—yes."
"Are you ready to arrest me, Nick?"
"Well, it's about time."
"Will you handcuff me?"
"I'll have to, Zel."
"Handcuff a woman?"
"No, a fiend."
"Then do it!"
As she uttered the exclamation, a wonderful thing happened.
Ere the last word had left her lips, Zel disappeared through the floor, dropping so quickly that she was gone in an instant.
The portion of the floor that had given way beneath her, flew back into place with a loud snap, and the spot where the woman-fiend had stood was vacant.
Then they saw why she had not feared them.
She knew a way of escape, and she had talked only for the purpose of gaining time in which to perfect her plans after she should work the secret spring which would let her through the floor.
The instant that she disappeared, Nick bounded forward.
He fell upon his hands and knees near the spot where he knew the spring must be.
As he searched, he gave hasty orders, talking while he looked for the spring.
"Patsy!" he called.
"Yep," said Patsy.
"You know where the kerosene launch is?"
"Yep."
"Go to it."
"Yep."
"Run!"
"Yep."
"If she appears there, order her to throw up her hands. She is unarmed, except for a poniard."
"Yep."
"If she disobeys, shoot her."
"Yep."
"If she obeys, keep her until I come."
"Yep."
"Go!"
"Yep."
He was gone.
"Chick!"
"Here!"
"Go to Ethel and Clarita. Stay with them till I come."
"Right."
"I have found the spring."
"Good!"
He pressed it even as he spoke, and disappeared as suddenly as Zel had done before him.
Nick fell about eight feet.
He alighted upon a soft mattress unhurt, but in total darkness.
But his trusty little lantern was in his pocket.
He brought it into use instantly.
With the gleam of light that it afforded, he found that he was in a portion of the cellar beneath the house.
But there seemed to be no way of egress from the place.
Brick walls surrounded him on every side.
They seemed to be solid and impassable.
Zel, however, was not there.
If she had gotten out, there must be a way for the detective.
Standing in the center of the place, he flashed his light first upon one side and then another.
He saw no opening; no place where there was any appearance of a door.
Suddenly, he espied a cask, rolled into one corner of the little cellar.
He leaped toward it, and attempted to roll it away.
It refused to move.
"The opening is here," he exclaimed.
With all his strength he kicked against the head of the cask.
It fell away from his foot easily.
Stooping down and peering through, he saw by the light of his bull's-eye that he had only to crawl through the empty cask to get out of the cellar he was in.
To think was to act.
He was through in a jiffy.
Then he discovered that he was in the main cellar of the house.
Beyond him, he saw where the starlight shone in through an opening, and he darted toward it.
It led to the outer air—to the grounds around Cliff Castle.
There, for a second or two, he paused.
What way had she gone?
He decided quickly.
Her most natural course would be to go for the little launch on the river.
Nick quickly calculated the time that he had lost in following her.
He did not think it could be more than ten minutes.
That it would take from five to eight minutes to accumulate enough steam in the boiler of the launch to move her he knew.
"If Patsy has delayed her two or three minutes, I will be in time," he thought, and he bounded away through the night.
He did not know the exact location of the launch, but his natural sagacity and his wonderful power of reasoning served him well.
Since entering the house, the clouds which had obscured the sky earlier in the night had disappeared.
Starlight now rendered objects fairly visible.
As he ran, he studied the topography of the ground in advance of him, calculating the most likely place for the launch to be moored.
Once he turned a little to the right, and it was unfortunate that he did so.
On he bounded, hastening with all his speed.
He could see the water of the river glimmering below him.
Down a steep slope he ran with all the speed that he could master.
He reached the river.
There was no launch there, and no sign of Patsy.
For a second only, he paused and listened.
He knew that if the launch was anywhere near, he could hear the blowing of the atomizer caused by the process of making steam.
He was right. He did hear it.
The sound came from the left, up the river, and he dashed away again toward it.
As he ran, he heard a loud cry.
It was Patsy's voice.
"Help! Help! Help!" shouted the boy.
Then the faint ripple of Zel's musical laugh, and all was still.
"She has proven too much for the boy," thought Nick.
"Oh, that Chick had been there."
Suddenly he came in sight of the launch.
It was just moving away from its moorings, but with every second gaining in speed.
He dashed down the slope, and reached the water's edge when the launch was about a hundred feet from the shore.
"Halt!" he cried. "Come back, or I will shoot you."
A loud laugh was his answer.
He raised his revolver to fire, but Zel was too wary to submit herself for a target.
She held something in front of her, and in the dim light, Nick saw that it was Patsy.
The boy was alive and struggling, and he acted as a perfect shield for the woman.
In daylight, Nick would have fired, but in the darkness, even with his wonderful skill, the risk of hitting Patsy was too great.
"The woman has the strength as well as the heart of a fiend," muttered the detective. "She will escape in spite of all that I can do."
"Shoot her!" cried the boy.
But even as he spoke, she lifted him still higher in the air, and then hurled him over the side of the boat into the water.
AS she did so, she also dropped out of sight inside the launch, and was thus entirely protected from bullets by the iron hull.
Nick had no recourse but to dash into the river to Patsy's rescue.
THE detective soon brought Patsy from the river, but the launch, meanwhile, had disappeared from view.
He could still hear the blowing of the atomizer, like the breathing of some huge animal, and thus tell what direction the woman was taking, but that was all.
For the present, at least, she had escaped. Patsy was nearly exhausted when Nick brought him back to the bank.
"How did it all happen?" asked the detective.
"She thumped me on me head when I wasn't lookin'."
"You should have been looking."
"Begob, I was; in the wrong way, though."
"Didn't you see her?"
"Divil a see."
"You thought she was in the boat?"
"Yep. I heer'd the thing wheezin' an' I made straight fur it. I had one pistol in me han', an' was all ready to obey orders, whin more stars than you could count in a thousand years kim out, an' I didn't know a thing more till she held me up in front av her in the boat."
"You knew, then?"
"You bet."
"I see how it was," mused Nick.
"Blowed of I do! How was it?"
"She thought she might be pursued, and when she
reached the launch, she lighted the wicks, and then while the blaze was doing its work, she hid in the bushes here by the path, and waited."
"She did."
"You came along—"
"I did."
"And she struck you."
"She did."
"You know the rest."
"You bet."
They returned to the Castle and found Clarita and Ethel all right in the care of Chick.
Fortunately, Clarita was even better posted than Zel had been about the secrets of the strange old house.
She knew all about the trap-door in the library, which had long been an open secret to all those who lived in the house.
Why it had ever been created, nobody knew.
Long before, Clarita had caused it to be screwed fast, so that it would not work, but Zel had evidently thought that it might be convenient some day, and had restored it.
How useful it proved in her case has been already seen.
By Clarita's assistance, the hiding-place of Peter was found, and he was liberated.
But the poor fellow had already been drugged and was a hopeless imbecile from that time.
But the work was not yet done.
Zel had escaped, and she had taken with her a great part of the fortune which belonged to Clarita.
She must be found, and the fortune restored.
Some of it was in certified checks.
It will be remembered that Nick had been watching her when she was gloating over her gains in the library.
He had seen the name of the bank upon the checks, and he determined to visit it in the morning, as soon as he should be again in the city.
He said nothing to the others about the discovery of Package "17-A," but quietly put it in his pocket.
Then, after examining the time-table, and ascertaining that they could just about catch a train for New York, the horses were taken from the stable, and harnessed to the carriage, and they departed.
From the depot, Chick was sent to notify the proper
county authorities of the condition of things at Cliff Castle, while the others went on their way to the city.
On the second morning after the events just narrated, Nick and Chick were sitting in the former's study.
Patsy had been installed in Peter's place as servant.
"Chick," said the great detective, "this woman fiend defies us."
"What now?"
"Look at this."
He passed a letter to his young assistant, which read as follows:
"Nick Carter:—Between you and me, it is a case of kill or be killed. I have no penchant for the latter, so I select the former. I will kill, and I will kill you.
"But first I have other killing to do, for I well know that I can make you suffer more through those you love, than by injuring you directly.
"I shall first attack your wife.
"You know what a threat like that from me means. You know that I will keep my word.
"Mark me well, for I will make you suffer.
"You have managed to beat me out of all the fortune that I made at Cliff Castle, except about twenty thousand dollars, which I fortunately had in cash. Had I felt less secure, I would have had it all in cash.
"You have restored Clarita to her rights.
"You have used me, by permitting me to destroy three of your enemies who would have helped in the work that I now have in hand—your destruction.
"I hated you before, but for all of this, I hate you more now than ever.
"Heretofore I have devoted my life to making money; now I will devote it to filling graves.
"One for your wife; one for your assistant, whom you call Chick, and one for you. Heed me, because I have sworn it.
"There are so many ways in which I can do it.
"Search for me—you cannot find me; dodge me—you cannot escape me; watch over your wife, she will become my victim.
"When I get you into my power, I will first torture and then kill you. I will put out your eyes; I will cut off your ears: I will brand you with hot irons, and then, by degrees, I will let you die.
"Oh, how I glory in the anticipation of it all.
"Beware of
"ZEL."
"Whew!" exclaimed Chick.
"What do you think of it?"
"Pleasant prospect."
"Very."
"She beats 'em all."
"Rather. We must find her, Chick."
"Easier said than done."
"Yes; but it can be done."
"I should smile."
"She is extraordinarily acute."
"Yes."
"And she will exercise all her ingenuity to outwit us."
"Sure!"
"Therefore she will take the simplest way."
"Probably."
"Again, she means what she says here."
"Without doubt."
"What do you gather from that?"
"Not much."
"One fact at least."
"What is that?"
"She is in hiding now, within a stone's throw of where we are sitting."
"Do you think so?"
"Yes."
"Well, I've got an idea."
"What is it?"
"Let's wait for her to make a move, and then checkmate her."
"No."
"You don't like that?"
"Not at all."
"What then?"
"We must find her."
"I'm ready."
" There is a boarding-house across the street."
"Yes."
"She may be there."
"By Jove!"
"It would be like her."
"It would."
"She will disguise herself as an old woman, or-"
"Or a man, eh?"
"A good thought, Chick; I would not wonder if she did that very thing."
"Well?"
"Get on your togs, and do the hotels; I will attend to the boarding-houses near by."
Without another word, Chick went into the wardrobe-room, and twenty minutes later he left the house, dressed as a young man about town, with plenty of money in his pockets, and time on his hands.
Soon afterward, Nick also went out, but he left the premises through the other street.
His disguise was that of the Irishman, which he had worn for a short time while at Cliff Castle.
Presently he rang the basement bell of the boarding-house to which he had referred in his conversation with Chick.
The cook came to the door.
Nick knew her name, having learned it from his own servants sometime before, and by good luck he knew also from what part of Ireland she had come.
"Is this Biddy McSorley, at all—at all?" he asked, when she opened the iron grating.
"That's me name, sure," she replied; "an' who are you, I wanter knaw?"
"Oi'm Tim Flagherty, begob."
"Tim Flagherty, is it?"
"That same, Biddy."
"Go long wid yez! Sure, I don't knaw any Tim Flagherty."
"Well, by the same token, Biddy, I kim from the same place in the ould counthry that you did, so Oi did, an' yer brother Moike—do ye moind, Moike?"
"Sure Oi moind me own flish an' blood."
"Will, Moike sez to me, sez he, Tim, begob Oi have a swate sister foreninst the wather; an' Biddy, he bade me look fur you whin Oi landed, an' tell ye the news, an—"
"Come in, Tim 1; don't be afther standin' there talkin' family saycrets. Whin did ye come, sure?"
"Oi landed lasht noight, begob."
"An' how did ye foind me?"
"Oi axed. Sure, it's a swate face ye have, Biddy, an' by the same token, divil a boite to ate have Oi had sence Oi left the boat."
"Arrah, arrah! Sure, an' are yez hungry, Tim?"
"Oi am, Biddy."
"What will yez ate, Tim?"
"Whatever yez have handy loike, Biddy."
"Some poy, Tim?"
"I will, Biddy."
An' some coffee, Tim?"
"God bless ye, Biddy. It's a dear frind to the hungry man yez are, sure! Faith, but that's foine! Jest kape yer oye on me whoile Oi ate, 'r begob Oi'll swalley the plate, too, so Oi will."
"Niver moind the plate, Tim."
"Oi won't, Biddy."
"BIDDY, Oi had an adventure."
"Yez did?"
"Oi did."
"Phwat was it, sure?"
"Wid a stranger."
"Indade!"
"Yes, an' the stranger came to this house."
"The new boorder, mebby."
"That same."
"Bad cess to him, Tim."
"Amen, Biddy."
"Whin did he come here to boord, sure?"
"Yisterday."
"Mebby 'tain't the same, Biddy."
"Was he young?"
"He was."
"Wid a little hair on his upper lips, sure, loike wan o' thim judes?"
"That same."
"Begorra, it must be him, Tim."
"There's wan way Oi kin till, Biddy."
"How, Tim."
"Have yez heard him laugh?"
"Sure, Oi have that same. Whin anything goes wrong, he laughs, an' by the powers, wan feels as though a snake or a worrum was crawlin' down wan's back."
"That's him, Biddy. Is he in?"
"Oi'll ax Mary."
"Who's Mary?"
"The oopstairs girrul."
"Ax her."
Biddy soon returned with the information that the new boarder was in his room.
"Thin Oi'll go oop," said Nick.
"Yez cant, Tim."
"Why, Biddy?"
"Oi'd lose me place."
"Whisht, Biddy. Sure he promised me ten dollars aw Oi'd kim an' see him wid an answer to the note he guv me. Oi have the answer in me pocket, an' half av the tin dollars is yourn, Biddy."
"Don't let anybody see ye goin' oop, Tim."
"Trust me, Biddy. Which room is it, sure?"
"Top flure, front."
"All right, Biddy. Oi'll tell ye about Moike whin Oi come down wid the coin."
Then Nick hurried up the stairs.
He reached the top floor, and going directly to the door of the front room attempted to throw it open.
It was locked.
With one push he burst it from its fastenings, and stepped into the room.
There was a person there, and one glance satisfied him that it was Zel.
She was attired in the costume of a man, but her face was not disguised.
Believing herself free from interruption she had laid aside the false mustache and her coat.
When the detective first tried the door she was sitting in her shirt sleeves, smoking a cigarette.
When he burst it open she leaped to her feet, and as he entered she quickly placed a small bulb, covered with tin foil, between her teeth, and held it there.
She knew instinctively who was breaking into her room.
"Good-morning, Zel," said Nick, in his natural voice. "We meet again." She only smiled, still holding the bulb between her teeth.
"What have you there?" asked Nick, catching sight of it.
"Poison," she managed to articulate without lessening her hold upon the bulb with her pearly teeth. "If you come one step nearer I will swallow it."
"Do so. I am not here to make terms, but to take you from this room, dead or alive."
"Then it shall be dead."
"So be it!"
As Nick spoke he stepped forward, having taken a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
Instantly Zel bit the bulb in half, and swallowed it.
Then she fell back into the chair behind her.
Her head sank forward, and Nick thought that she would fall to the floor.
But instead she opened her eyes, and straightened up.
Then she laughed, the same merry but chilling laugh that he knew so well.
"The poison doesn't work, does it, Zel?" asked Nick.
"It will."
"When?"
"In five minutes I will be a corpse, and you will be cheated of your revenge."
"Do you-mean it, Zel?"
"I do."
"The poison will kill you in five minutes?"
"Yes."
"Have you anything to confess before you die?"
"No."
"Nor to say?"
"Yes, much."
"Speak, then."
"I am dying."
"So you said."
"Living I hate you and yours."
"I don't doubt it."
"Dead I will haunt you."
"Bah!"
"I will."
"It taught you to believe in ghosts, Zel."
"You taught me!"
"Yes."
"How?"
"I was the ghost of Burton."
"You!"
"Yes, I"
"Nick Carter, is that the truth?"
"It is."
"You never lie?"
"Never."
"Then I did not see Burton's spirit?"
"No. You saw me."
"Why didn't my bullets kill you?"
Nick explained.
"You have done me a favor," she said when he finished.
"How?"
"I thought it was Burton's ghost."
"You were deceived."
"You will not be."
"Nonsense, Zel."
"I repeat: I will haunt you.
"If you can."
"I can and will."
"Try it."
"Listen."
"I am listening."
"Living I would have followed you to the grave."
"Perhaps."
"I would have carried out every threat named in my
letter."
"Perhaps."
"Dead I will do it also."
"You would if you could, I do not doubt."
"I can-and will."
"Oh, all right. I'll look for your ghost."
"You will see it."
"Four minutes have gone, Zel; I am waiting to see you die."
"The poison has begun to do its work. In a minute I will be dead. Remember what I have said to you."
"I will remember."
Her face flushed red, and then grew ashen pale.
For a moment she closed her eyes.
Then she opened them again and looked up into Nick's face, and laughed.
That was the last effort, for with the laugh frozen on her face she toppled from her chair to the floor.
Nick remembered a trick that Dr. Quartz had once played in order to escape from prison, and he determined that Zel should not outwit him in the same way.
From the moment that Zel died until she was consigned to the grave and covered over with six feet of earth Nick had her body watched.
He himself saw it placed in the coffin; he saw the lid screwed down. He saw the pine box which incased the coffin put on and fastened.
More, he followed it to the grave, and saw it buried, and he lingered there until the grave was filled.
Even then he did not relax his vigilance, for he knew the potency of the drugs which she had learned how to use of Doctor Quartz, and he knew the skill with which she used them.
For seven days he caused the grave to be watched, and then, satisfied that she was, indeed, dead, he abandoned his suspicions.
"Package "17-A" was found to contain a history of the Downing family as well as the mystic ring which Clarita's father had given her.
The history included that of the mothers of Clarita Downing and Isabel Danton, and revealed the secret of the family feud which had brought about so much trouble.
Long years before the mothers of the two girls had loved the same man—Clarita's father.
Strangely enough, Isabel's father had loved Clarita's mother, and not the woman he married.
Neither the father nor the mother of Isabel ever forgot their disappointment, and the time came when they confessed it to each other.
Then began the series of misfortunes which culminated in the scenes of this story.
Isabel was early trained to plot against Clarita, and with what success we have seen.
Zel, coming upon the scene and so strangely resembling the cousins, succeeded in making a tool of Isabel, and drugging her into partial non compos mentis.
She pretended that Isabel was dead, and so worked her schemes successfully, until Nick Carter came upon the scene.
Clarita Downing was restored to all her rights and property.
She sold Cliff Castle at the first opportunity, for that place filled her with horror.
Well it might.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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