DOUBLE THE CIRCULATION OF ANY FIVE-CENT LIBRARY Nihon ™ e MAH erin Mi, gle The Best 5 Cent Library of Detective Stories. he Office of the Librarian of Congrese. Washington, D.C Vay 2, 1806 Ruteredt According to dct of Congress. in the Year 1892. tu Street © Smith, tm ¢t ; f Entered as Secont-class Matter at the New York, N. ¥., lost Omice, May 2, 1916. issued Weekly. Stuogecriptron Price, $2.50 per Year. 5 Cents. NEW YORK, : 2 nae St. Nu, No, 248, Street & Suir, Publishers, Nick Carter's Mysterious Gases THE ROAD-HOUSE TRAGEDY. ey veccco: ees a AND BURIED ITSELF IN THE BACK OF THE VICTIM'S HEAD. NICK CARTER LIBRARY. NOK GARTER’S MYSTERIOUS CASE; THE ROAD-HOUSE TRACEDY. BY THE AUTHOR OF “NICK CARTER.” CHAPTER I. THE TRAGEDY. “Crack !” The sharp report of a revolver rings out upon the mid- wight air. Simultaneously is heard the shivering of window. -glass, followed by a loud cry of agony, a heavy fall, and a deep groan. Then, for an instant, all -is still, as though the horror of the act just consummated has paralyzed sound and activity. * Then one brief instant- passes, and the air is filled with shouts and cries, while one prolonged scream rings out, far above the other noises. There is the rush of many feet as people crowd into the room where the tragedy has taken place, only to behold a sight so full of horror that they turn away, sick with dis- may and alarm. William Burnham js dead. Whilé sitting in a chair near the window, which opens out into his own yard; the yard back of his own hotel, the: assassin*crept stealthily upon him, took careful. aim through the glass, and fired. The deadly bullet crashed its way past the glass, and buried itself in the back of the victim’s head, stealing away his life instantly, and leaving the man, who, buta moment before, was full of energy-and activity, a cold, senseless, pulseless corpse. “Murder!” cries out the man whois Burnham’s com- panion. “ What is it?” “What has happened ?” ““ Who fired ?” “Ts anybody hurt?” Four people rush simultaneously into the room within. ¢wenty seconds of the sound of the pistol-shot. Each shouts out a question as he enters, but Belden Green only points silently at the corpse upon the floor, still too greatly stupefied by the shock to speak or to act. | The answer to their questions lies there cold, They know that William Burnham-has been murdered ; There are two people in the buggy, a man and a woman. ‘The night is not particularly dark, nor yet is it moon- light. One can distinguish objects quite clearly at a consid- ‘erable distance. When the buggy stops, the man leaps to the ground, whiie the woman takes the reins, as though to await = return. “Will you be long?” she asks. | “No; only about five minutes.” 4 Husry.” : 66 Yes. 99 Then he glides away. But his back is scarcely turned ere she also leaps from the buggy to the ground, after throwing the reins over the dashboard, seemingly regardless whether the horse takes a notion to move on, or to remain where he is. She, too, hurries away, but in the opposite direction from that taken by the man. Reader, take your pencil and draw an oblong square. Mark. it thus: a ee Burnham’s road-house is at A, and the buggy, with its two occupants, pauses at C. The man, who gets out first walks rapidly toward D, and the woman, who leaves the horse to care for himself, glides away toward B. It is twenty-two minutes past eleven, when the buggy stops at C. The horse, being left alone, moves along, step be step, not with any intention of wandering away, but simply be- cause of a disinclination to stand still. He moves toward B, because he is headed that way. He goes very slowly, scarcely taking more than two or three steps in a minute, but even at that rate, after the lapse of five minutes, he has gone some little distance. Had you, reader, been standing upon the corner at C during this time you would have wondered, doubtless, at the strar ge maneuvers of the pair who alighted from the buggy, and went their seperate ways, apparently with no connection with each other’s movements. At twenty-eight minutes of twelve—or just ten minutes after the buggy stopped—you would have seen the man (who wore a slouch hat and full black beard, whose coaf- ‘collar was turned up about his ears, and whose shoulders still, dead. stooped somewhat), turn the corner at D, and walk rap- idly toward the spot where he had parted with his com- that he has been mercilessly shot down by an unknown: _panion. assassin, who, in order to fire the fatal shot, must have| stood just outside of the window, and they rush into the yard crying for vengeance. oa : * * * See * Cua Let us go back to a time just fifteen minutes prior to the moment when the Ore of a pistol startled every person én the house. It is nearly midnight. The hands of the clock point at twenty-two minutes corner, jalees by this time,.and the woman, with ¢ one bound, — past eleven. It is the night of December 93, 1891. A buggy draws up ata corner two blocks away from the popular road-house, which is kept by William Burn- usual activity. She is a good driver, for the horse turns ata trot, and ham, But he did not continue all the way to C. At about the middle of the block, he paused abruptly and turned back again, once more disappearing around ' the corner. | Ls: | Five minutes more pass. -It is exactly twenty-three minutes of twelve when the sharp report of a pistol is heard. Two minutes later the woman suddenly reappears at the B. The horse and buggy have almost reached it into the seat, and grasps the reins. Then she uses the whip, and the animal starts into t un- oe NICK CARTIM LIBRARY. 3 yet without touching the wheel to the crank- bar, or chaf- ing-iron, as itis sometimes called. In a half-minute, or ime they turn’ the corner at C, go- ing toward D. ‘ There is nobody in re i Still the woman does not rein in the animal. - She drives ay to D, and turns to the Heh sat | is, toward A. “But the corner is not completely turned when se man leaps toward her from the sidewalk. he reins are tightened just enough toslow up suffi- ciently for the man to leap up beside the. woman. Then the left rein is pulled violently and the horse wheels again and dashes away at a fast trot at right angles with a line drawn from D to C, and directly away from A. Refer to your diagram once more, reader. Draw an ob- long square inside-of the original square, at the corner A, thus: The inner square represents the road-house, owned and conducted by William Burnham, the front being at the narrow end where you have placed the letter A. : At the time when the fatal shot was fired, the murdered -man was ina back room on the ground floor in company with a friend and boon companion named Belden Green. They were seated at a table, and were discussing race- horses, in which they were both deeply interested. Both men had been drinking heavily, and neither had any thought of the. terrible tragedy, which was so soon to be enacted. lt came, however, in the midst of their conversation. There was no warning whatsoever. It seemed almost as if the sound of breaking glass, the report of the pistol, and William Burnham’s death-cry, happened simultaneously. “T will bet you fifty to thirty that Wisdiniae | is dis- tanced, "said Green. ‘‘Take you!” cried Burnham. He never finished the sentence. The crack, the crash, the cry, the fall, Ane groan, and he was a corpse.. A dark figure had stolen through the gate into the back- yard while they were sitting there. It had peered through the window at them. The owner of the figure had laughed softly, and yet, with a sound that was perfectly audible a few feet away. Then the.weapon had been raised, and careful aim taken. ' The flash, the report, and sudden death followed. Was the figure in the darkness that of a man, or a woman? Who can tell? Standing twenty feet away, in the obscure light, it - would have been impossible to determine. It was a strange-looking figure, with slouch hat pulled far down over the eyes, while the size and shape of the form were completely hidden beneath the folds of a huge lap-robe, such as are used in driving when the weather is cold. “Tl be shot, if I——” The fatal bullet having been sent upon its Sale death, the-owner of the figure did not turn and fly with all speed, but laughed again while for one instant the dread! weapon was pointed at the heart of Belden Green. “And yet, I am even with Will Burnham, at “ Why not?” vied the strange being. what’s the use? Bah ! ! all events.” Then it glided away; not precipitately, but as though confident of its ability to avoid detection for the awful crime. It glided away, and the darkness swallowed it. * Ce * * * * * One more glance at the strange buggy, and then to the solution of the mysterious case. When the man leaped into it at the corner (D), he seized the reins, and said, savagely: “Where were you?” “When ?” “Just now. I came back to the corner. gone; you were not there.” “Did you go way to the corner o” 66 No. 99 “Tf you had, you would have found me.” . “Why didn’t you wait where you were ?” “Because I considered it safest to move. liver the note?” 66 No. 7 “No! Why not?” “T had no chance. I tried twice.” “Didn’t you see him ?” 79 Yes. bb “Well?” “T tell you I didn’t deliver it.” “Then give it back to me.” ) The man felt in his pocket. Then he swore. looked once more, and swore again. “T haven’t got it. I’ve lost it,” he said, presently. She did not seem to care much for the note, although The buggy was Did you de- Then he , she frowned when he said that he had lost it. ‘Where did you go with the note?” she asked. ‘*Where you told me to go.” “Nowhere else?” oo No. 9 “Who fired a pistol ?” “How do I know ?” “Didn’t you hear one?” Ves, ” “Who was it?” “Somebody shooting at a cat, I suppose. How the dev——” “Didn’t you hear a cry ?” “What kind of a cry ?” “Like a man who was wounded %” 6s No. ob) “T thought that I did.” “What of it?” ‘*Have you deceived me, Bert?” “No. v9 “Did you quarrel with Will v “Not to any extent.” “Where did you see him?” “ At the front door.” “Nowhere else ie cc No. bb f ae “Bert, did you fire that pistol?” tf I 9% ** Ves. ” ce No. 99 “Tisten to me,” she said, a ahe iernad” and looked him squarely in ne face. “I believe that a oe DIME NOVELS BOUGHT & SOLD CHARLES BRAGIN 1525 W, 12th St! Brooklyn 4,N.Y, i 4 NICK CARTER LIBRARY. ‘was committed there to-night, and my intuition tells me that Will Burnham was shot. If he was shot, and if you are the murderer, I will give you up to Justice as surely. as you sit beside me now.” The man shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply to her words. CHAPTER II. A STRANGE CLIENT. “Nick Carter and his assistant, Chick, were seated to-| gether in the great detective’s Liberty street office, which was popularly supposed to be the headquarters of one T. Bolt. Nick was arrayed in his now famous character of “Old Thunderbolt,” otherwise known as Joshua Juniper. Chick looked like a bootblack who had been invited in from the street to shine the detective’s boots, for he was seated upon alow stool with a blacking-box at his side and a brush in either hand. Although he seemed ready to begin work at any instant, the actual operation of “shining” had not yet commenced. “She should be here in a few moments, Chick,” said the detective. ‘‘ When the bell rings, begin work.” * Yes, sir.” Nick had arranged an ingenious, though well-known, de- vice by which nobody could approach his office, without involuntarily announcing the fact. The mat at the foot of the stairs covered an lacie but- ton, which rang a muffled bell in the detective’s office. The person who caused the bell to ring could not hear it from where he or she stood, and was, therefore, all uncon- scious of the fact that the approach was known before the first step of the stairs had been passed. Such was nevertheless the fact. That Nick Carter was expecting a caller, and that he wished Chick to overhear all that took place was evident, and Chick was only waiting for the bell to ring, to begin his task of shining the shoes of Mr. T. Bolt, detective. Chick had just entered when we discovered them. “Here is the letter,” said Nick ; ‘read it for yourself.” Chick took the missive and read: “Mr. T. Bout. : “Dear Sir: I have been informed that you are a very expert detective. You have doubtless heard of the mysterious murder of | William Burnham at his hotel. Ihave reasons for wishing to engage your services in connection with that affair, and to that end, I will call upon you at noon of the 26th. I hope that I will find you at your office, and that you will consent to receive me as your client. “Very truly yours, “BarBaRaA BENNETT.” “Doesn’t say much,” murmured Chick. rt No. 7 “Queer sort, I guess.” “Shouldn’t wonder.” “Have you heard of such a name, mentioned in connec- tion with the Burnham murder ?” a“ No. 99 ] “Do you think that was Dorning a ss “Yes. bb] = cs Do you know where Be can be found ” i 4 No. 5k eS gether, and told her that Burnham carried it about with “Then I opened the package, Soa very quickly discov- 3 I could not deny that, and sol - “You believe now that they made another attempt to “What then? It was the morning of the 23d that you _ “Do you think that either Miller or Blanche Bullard a e ham last?” - “Did you talk to him, bape - pecover ?” NICK CARTER LIBRARY. a C Have you no idea ?”- *If I had, I would not come to you.” “How did, Dorning know about these papers?” “T told him.” j “You!” “Yes, ” “When ?” “Two years “Why did you, do that?” | “It does not matter why; it is enough that I did tell, him, and that I have since ‘discovered that I was foolish ' to do so. Have you ne-er believed that you could trust a person, and found out your mistake too late?” CHAPTER IV. HUNTING HORSE-HAIRS. Why,” asked Nick, “if you are so positive regarding the name and description of the man who yeu say shot, William Burnham, do you come to me to find him for you? | ” | ‘One would think, sinte you know the man so well, that you would have no difficulty in finding him yourself. ‘a | “If you knew him, you. would understand ; not know-: ing him, I will explain.” “ Please do 80.” “Heis a sphinx—a mystery—a phantom—a devil. He, is here to-day and gone to-morrow and back again the day | following. He wears a hundred different disguises, and delights in deceiving others. Suchis Albert Dorning.” = | “Humph! You suggested a manner in which this strange robbery was committed ?” ! “Yes.” “To work out your theory, there must have beer two people concerned i in the affair.” “Yes.” “If Dorning did it, he had a confederate.” 66 Yes. 99 “Have you any idea who that confederate could have been ?” “* None.” “You knew that:the papers you wanted were in Burn- ham’s overcoat pocket, didn’t you?” Ves, 9 “Did you see Dorning after Burnham put the papers tlrere ?” eb No. 99 “Then how did he know where they were?” “T don’t know.” “Prior to the day of the murder, when did you see Burn “Not in a long time.” “Weeks, months, years, or only days?” “About two weeks.” 66 No. 99 “Did he see you 2” ‘“‘Not to recognize me.” . “What are the contents of the will that you wisn me to “That is something that cannot concern you, sir.” .“Perhaps not. Now once more, will you reveal your face to me?” : “66 No. 99 -“How am I to know for whom I am at work ?” a “Tt is unnecessary that you should know more than you: now.’ we We may differ in that idea, ma’am.” » “T am the employer, you, the ee ‘make terms, sir, not you.’ “Indeed. This is the thousand dollars you just gave, me, isn’t it ?” and Nick laid the money in the woman’s lap. | ‘“T believe so.” it is for me to - “Will you count it?” “Why so?” “To see it it is correct.” “Phere are ten one- -hundred- dollar bills. ” -» “Count them.” fee did ac: “They are correct, » hie said. : _ “Very good, ma’am. Now, oblige me by putting them "into your = o “Eh? But they are for you.” “T don’t want ’em.” “Why? You surely will not take my case without pay ” “Neither with nor without it.” “Do you refuse the case?” 66 I do. ” $6 But——” 2 Y “Excuse me, ma’am. Iam not the employeenow. My time is up. I must go. Our interview is at an end.” “T will double your pay; I will triple it.” “Tf you should mu!tiply it by ten, I would not touch it. Now, will you permit me to close my office?” “You agreed to take my case.” “Before I understood it, yes. Now I refuse. I will say |one thing which may convince you that you do not want ;to employ me after all. If] took the case, I should devote ‘my energies to finding out. all about you, before I looked for vour friend Albert Dorning. Good-day, ma’am.” “Bah! you are a fool, sir.’ ‘*All the more reason why you should seek another de- tective. I really must go now. Nick saw that the woman fairly trembled with anger. She turned and walked to the door. Then she paused with her hand upon the knob, and face@ | Nick for a moment as if about to speak. ~But no words came. She wheeled suddenly, and went out, slamming the door behind her. “Well,” muttered Nick, “she’s the queerest character that I have-dealt with yet. She either knows more about. the murder of William Burnham than she cares to tell, or else she’s a crank; and I guess the jiatter term just about. fills the bill. “ Anyhow, Chick will find out all there is to know, in a. few kours, and now, I’ll just keep my engagement and skip over to Burnham’s Road-House.” Nick had already been engaged to work up the murder mystery surrounding the death of William Burnham, and he lost no time in hurrying“to the scens of the crime, leav- ing Chick to ‘shadow the mysterious woman who had called upon him, and whom, because she had referred to that very crime in her letter—he had waited to see. It was about half-past two when he reached the house where the murder had been committed, still wearing his: Old Thunderbolt disguise. , He was shown at once to the room where the murdered man had sat when he was so suddenly shot down Burnham had not been directly in front of the window, but a little to the right of it, as one looked into the room: from the yard. There was the hole made by the bullet in the glass, which told its awful tale of horror. There was nothing in the room that interested Nick. A. dozen detectives had been there and pulled and hauled everything this way and that, si: ice the fatal shot was: fired. He shrugged his shoulders, and went out across the halk and into the alley-way that runs along the north side of the house, and thence into the back-yard. The window, be found, was nearly ten feet from the ground. He calculated the spot where the death-chair was located in the little room where Burnham was shot, and then he selected the spot where he judged the person who used the pistol must have stood. “ Just about here,” he mused. Hundreds of feet had trod the ground since the mtr- derer stood there, and yet the detective examined it care- fully, particularly about the spot where he stood. Presently he stooped and picked up a ae horse-hair,, and bezan winding it around his fingers. After a little he strolled through the alley on the north i side of the house, and while his manner did fiot indicate that he was particularly interested in his occupation. his restless eyes were roaming back and forth, taking i in every detail of the place with more than ordinary care. - He reached the street, and turned back again. toward, , the yard. Then he drew near to the fence that ceparated it frora William street. ee - NICK CARTER LIBRARY. His eyes ran mae the aie ave and then along the top of the fence. Then he stepped forward, and raising himself some- ‘what, he seized the top stringer and pulled himself up. _. Another horse-hair was presently wound around the finger with the first, and a little tuft of wool, such as might be torn from manufactur ed goods of some kind was an his grasp, when he again leaped to the ground. He spent a full minute in examining the bit of wool. It was a mixture of shreds; some were black and scme were red, while there were not more than 4 dozen in all. Suddenly he placed the shreds to his nose, and drew in -a long breath. “T thought so,” he muttered. as These came from a hiotae: Dlanket, or from a robe of some kind that has been in con- stant use around a horse. The horse. was a sorrel, too, or a chestnut. No, a sorrel, and those hairs came from the . mane, I think. “Good, so far.. Funny that nobody has found these things before me. Horse-hairs are too common, I suppose. “Still, there is another view to take. Some of the curi- - ous crowd that have yearned for a look at this place, might have climbed up there and left these things.. Still, that would hardly account for the hair in the yard, just where - the murderer probably stood. “Let me seo; ifa horse-blanket came over that fence|c with the murderer, and that horse-blanket had been upon or behind a-sorrel horse, as I imagine, these two hairs would not be the only ones that were dropped. “There would be others somewhere around; shorter ‘ones, and the winds that have blown since, and the tramp- ing of many feet would not have disposed of them all. -“T think I will go on a hunt for horse-hairs.” He began at once, making his starting point the spot} - where he believed the murderer esno8 when the shot was fired. The result of his search was one of the most remark- able specimens of detective work that Nick Carter ever did. ‘ i CHAPTER V. WONDERFUL WORK, Nick Carter spent nearly half an hour, groping around the yard in the rear of Burnbam’s road- house. He found five short horse-hairs, as fine as silk, and not over halfan inchin length, near the spot where he had picked up the first one that came from the animal's mane. Between that place and the fence, he picked up three more. Then he searched toward the alley, and through it, but found nothing. Then he passed out through the alley, and turned the corner on to William street. He did not spend any time in searching until he reached the point near the fence, where he had found the shreds of wool. There he began another minute search. ‘The wind would influence them mor? here than in the cyard,” he mused, “and yet some of them should be left for me to find.” — He brushed aside lumps of dirt, little sticks, and the bits of waste that will gather against a fence where the wind has a chance to sweep along without impediment. Now and then his search was rewarded by the finding of a hair. It was strange that he only picked them up to throw them aside again, but that was what he did, taking care, however, to so dispose of them that he would not find the ‘game hair the second time. - First he searched back toward the corner from whence the had come, but he found fewer and fewer, and presently mone at all. Then he returned to the. starting-point, and searched in the other difection. The reader must not suppose that the ground was strewn vith horse-hairs, for such was not the case. During the entire search from beginning to end, he | sonee in all, only twenty-one hairs; but he found them n places which revealed the direction from which the} ‘hood, but pages lost himself from the v blanket that had contained them had been brought. If the reader will refer ee to the —, ane ee NS square, he will see that Nick now started toward the point marked “ B.” It was. a fatiguing search, and no one not possessed of the wonderful patience of an expert and thorough detec- tive, would have continued it as he did. But his efforts were constantly meeting with rewards. Now and then he found a hair, and each hair found told the detective something. The hairs he found were not always sorrel in color, either. He occasionally picked up a bay one, or a black one, or ah that he believed had some time adorned the back of a oO Nowarthilens he did find sorrel hairs, and: each one that che found took him nearer to the corner, B. At last he reached the corner. : By that time several people were curiously observing the actions of the strange old man, who looked as though he had suddenly’ been translated from the backwoods into their midst. They thought that he was crazy ; they jeered at him; : but he paid no attention. Exactly upon the corner, he paused, stooped over, and began to scrape in the dirt, where he found several of the hairs, and a few more shreds of wool (only three this time) clinging to the end ofa jagged stick, which was a piece of a broken barrel-hoop. Then he noticed a circular spot in the earth, close be- side the. pavement. It was an indentation, and just such an one as a person would make by throwing the entire weight upon one heel and then turning the foot first one way and then another. The circular indentation was small, too. Not such as would be made by the heel of. a man’s boot, but rather by a woman’s shoe. Nick observed another thing as he remarked the spot, and that was that the heel that had ground the hole had been provided with little steel guards, such ‘as are often put on high heels to prevent them from wearing . away at one side. ‘“*T had begun to-suspect it,” he muttered. see why she paused here and dropped the blanket upon the ground, and why she ground her heel into the earth in that way. “She would not have dropped the blanket if she had not needed the use of both hands, which would be necessary, in case she wished to remove an empty shell from the chamber of a revolver. ‘Good ! having removed it, and replaced it by a good cartridge, she dropped the useless shell upon the ground and pressed it out of sight in the soil with her heel. “Now, let me see if Iam correct. IfI am, I should find a cartridge-shell right in that spot.” _ He took the bit of barrel-hoop and began digging. The second jab that he made was fruitful. He turned up an empty shell. Placing it in his pocket, he straightened up and looked 2 around him. “Suddenly his eye caught sight of an object that nobody but Nick Carter would have noticed. It was a piece of dirty rag, but it happened to be ex- actly what he was searching for, and he quickly secured it. “Correct!” he muttered. “Two and two make four, every time; I never knew it to fail. This is a queer piece of rag to be galloping around the street here, for unless I am greatly mistaken, it once formed part of a very deli- cate cambric handkerchief. “ How dirty itis, too. Looks just as though somebody had used it to clean an axle with.” He wrapped the empty cartridge-shell in the dirty ra and placed them both in his pocket, and then he walked slowly along the edge of the walk toward John street. Several times he paused and studied different things that he noticed as he moved along. It was nearly dark when he found himself again on Washington avenue, but he felt that he had accomplished a great derl, and that he could now see his way very clearly toa speedy solution of the mystery. . Nevertheless, he did not hurry away from the neighbor- “Now, let us- = a Sac = ee Scena SES _' “Tam a detective. | hear a horse driven rapidly by on the night of the murder, at about the time that it was committed ?” NIUE CAWIER WIERARY, ofa police ofticer in citizen’s clothes, and then he began a an avenue, and started to turn toward William to find stematic visit at every house in the neighborhood. His statement and i inquir y were the same at every house. Did anybody in this house see or The answers were varied, but they were, withal, con- firmatory with his theory, and at last he found a man who chad seen a horse and bugey. “It had driven down John street to Washington avenue,” he said, “and turned south.” “Then it must have gone dinestly past Burnham’s house,” said Nick: : re No; ; it wheeled and went off the ether way.” “How many were in the buggy?” asked Nick. “Two, I think; but I won’t be sure.” . e They drove rapidly ?” “Very.” a ts say it first turned baward Willinms street ae 6 es % “*Then wheeled and went the other way!” 66 Yes. ” “What color was the horse?” “T didn’t notice; bay, I think.” “Wasn’t it sorrel?” “T can’t say.” “You are not sure that it was not sorrel ?” 66 No.” Nick did not see Superintendent Brown until the fol- lowing morning, but‘he was closeted with that gentleman by half-past eight. “ Well, Carter, have you. anything to tell me this morn- ing?” asked the superintendent. ee Yes. 9 “What?” “The person who shot William Burnham was a woman.” “Think so ?” “T know it.” “Hem! well?” “She came heré in a carriage, or rather a buggy that was drawn by a sorrel horse.” “Bless me! this is getting things down fine,” “She was accompanied by a man. “They both left the buggy on John_ street at the first corner west of Washington avenue. “The horse was headed toward the south.” “Wait. How ¢o you know all this?” “TI know that there were two in the buggy, and I roo that the horse was left alone ; therefore they both got out of the buggy.” . “How do you know ae the horse was left alone?” “By the way in which he wandered along toward William street, and I know that by his droppings and the marks left by the wheels in several places where they have not been since obliterated. “I know the color of the horse by hairs that I have found.” “Go ahead ; I’m all attention.” “The woman tur ned toward William street ; the man went the other way.” “Down John, eh?” _ “Yes. The woman carried a _ red-and-black horse- blanket, or lap-rebe with her. ““She managed in some way, and just how I do not yet know, to scale the fence which separates the yard back of the hotel from William street. “I know just where she stood when she fired the shot that killed Burnham. “Then she left, going out the same way that she got in. “When she reached the corner, she dropped the blanket upon the ground and then removed’ the empty shell from her revolver. “Having removed it, ahi dropped it upon the ground, and pressed it in, out of sight, with the heel of her shoe. “Then she tore a piece of cambric out of the center of her handkerchief, and with that wiped the empty chamber and the barrel of her weapon. “Then she reloaded the chamber that had been used, re-| d the revolver to her pocket, picked — up the blanket, the buggy, leaped in, seized the reins, turned the drove back to John street, down John to Washing- her companion. “But: he met her almost as she reached the corner, oe the horse was quickly turned the other way, and the pair drove off. | “There, chief, is the story of the murder, and I would stake my. reputation, that it is true.” “But how in the world have you discovered so much? My men have been searching day and night with no re- sults, and you tell the story of the crime in a few.hours. How do you know all this?” CHAPTER VI. . PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER. Nick regarded the superintendent with a smile on his ~| face. “Tt is very simple,” he said. “How 60?” “Tf I build a house, I first dig my cellar and then lay my foundation wall. If I write a letter, I have a pretty general idea of what I am going to say before I begin. If acrime is committed and I seek to find its perpetrator, I begin at the beginning. “To successfully work out the mysteries connected with a crime, it is essential to begin where the criminal began, | and to keep moving forward. The mistake that the aver- age detective makes, is that he begins in the middle—that is, puts up his balloon-frame before he has begun his: foundation, and the inevitable result is that the structure falls in ruins, leaving the builder worse off than he was before, simply because he is forced to clear away the debris before he can recommence his work.” “All very fine, Carter, in theory.” “In practice also.” “Tell me how you worked out this case to the point you have reached.” “TI first went into the room, and found the exact loca- tion of the chair in which Burnham sat when he was shot.” ee Yes. 9 “Then I went into the yard and picked out the place where the murderer must have stood when he fired.” “Well?” “Having satisfied myself that I was standing almost in the murderer’s foot-prints, I still believed the criminal to be a man, and I began to examine the ground at that point.” “A hundred had stood there since the murder.” “Very true.” : “Well?” “Presently I found a horse-hair, such as would be shed from the mane or tail of a sorrel horse.” “Horse-hairs are found everywhere.” : “True; and I picked that one up more from habit than anything else, and did not, in any sense, connect it with the murderer at that moment. “TI sometimes think that there is a magnetic current of thought when I touch an article connected with a crime, that brings my mind involntarily in association with the truth.” ‘*Psychology, eh?” “Perhaps so. I looked around the yard, and fea went to the fence.” a Ah ay “Clinging to the top of the fence, I found another hair, exactly like the one I had discovered in the yard. “TI climbed upon the fence, and found several shreds ~ which had been pulled, rather than torn from a horsc- blanket, or woolen lap-robe.” “Wait; how do you know that they came from, sn:! an article ? co “By the smell. Anything that isin constant contact with a horse, or. that is habitually left in a stable, smells ‘horsey,’ and any quantity of airing will not altogether destroy the odor.” ‘True; go on.” “Then, for the first time, I connected the horse-hairs and the shreds with the. person who shot Burnham. . 66 I see. DB) < “T resolved to hunt horse-hairs.” “Horses are not. shedding: their coats now. The hairs you found might have heen there for weeks.” ae - moved. ee os “Go NICK CARTER LIBRARY. '“That is true. I recognized the force of that. argument, everi when I began my strange search. “The odor clinging to the shreds was, however, too _ strong to render the presumption possible that they had been there very long. The fac that horses are not shed- ding one coats now had very Hintlg ‘tao with the matter.” ‘4 ¥ 7 “Because the blanket’ was of ‘rough, coarse wool. “If used about the horse when he was ghedding, they would cling to it for years, as you know, and no amount of brugh- ing could get them off.” “Exactly.” “On the other hand, they would oe dropping, contin- ually, and the blanket could’ not be moved without dis- lodging an occasional one.” © “True again; but by your own admission you. may have found hairs that were growing upon a horse last summer, _ or ayear ago, while if itis true that there is °a horse in this case, he may have been black or bay, and you be none the wiser, since he is not now shedding.” “You forget the two. hairs from the mane, or tail.” “What have they to do with it?” “They are stiff and a as well as long.” “Well?” . - “They would not cling to the blanket for any ee of time, but would be easily shaken off.” “Hum !” “Their presence, in eounéotion with the others, satisfies me that the blanket from which they dropped, was in use very shortly before that time, about a sorrel horse. You will admit the force of that argument.” as Yes. nv a i -“T was satisfied that a woolen blanket, had come over that fence, and that the blanket had been in use abouta sorrel horse. I was satisfied that the blanket went to the very spot where the murderer must have stood when the shot was fired. I was also satisfied that it went no further.” “T will admit that you interest me.’ “Thanks! I next went to the street, hair-hunting, for I believed then that I should find out the direction taken by the person who carried the blanket, and that it would bring me toa point where a horse and buggy had been in waiting. : “J was not mistaken. “JT turned west, and by degrees—that is, by the occa- sional finding of a ‘hair, worked my way past the Catholic Church to the next corner. “Standing upon the corner, I noticed a piece of broken barrel-hoop with a jagged end. One end of the stick was wedged in under astone so that it conld not be easily To the other end there were clinging more shreds pf wool like those that I had found upon the fence. ; “T leaned over to examine it more earefully, and found a little nest of several of the short hairs lying about. “T said at once, ‘the blanket was dropped here. When it was picked up. it caught upon the jagged end of that stick.’ “Then came the question, ‘Why was it dropped here? accidentally or for a purpose { ?? “evidently for a purpose.’ “What purpose?” asked the chief. “That was the next question that I asked myself. The answer was obvious.” “T don’t see it.” “Simply because the person who dropped it, wished to use both hands in such a way that holding the blanket would be an impediment.” “How an impediment?” “To speed, if not to freedom of action.” “Goon.” , “Supposing the person who carried the blanket to be the murderer, what motive could be powerful enough to in- duce him, or her, to pause, even for an instant, while still in close proximity to the scene of the crime?” ‘*A hard question to answer.’ hes, Pardon me, ah easy one, oe there could be but one motive.” “What one?” “The wish to destroy any printing evidence of the crime that might be about ae person. Mas ; “sh r . : there had been a watering-trough upon that corner, the natural inference would be that the murderer stopped fe wash his or her Bands, and to cleanse the knife, would it not?” ' “Certainly.” | “Very well; this crime was committed with a pistol. The murderer could not be defiled by contact with the blood of the victim.” 66 No. . j ‘‘But the pistol still contained an empty cartridge- shell, and the empty chamber and the pistol-barrel were, of course, blackened by burnt powder and hot grease from the bullet.” : z 66 Yes. 9 “Tf the person earrying such a weapon were found in the neighborhood, the recently- discharged’ revolver would be strong circumstantial evidence agen that person, would it not?” ' ' “Surely.” “Therefore the oceune evidenoy of the crime ‘just com- 66 Yes. 99 “To destroy that evidence, the empty shell had to be removed and disposed of, the chamber and barrel of the revolver wiped clean, and the weapon reloaded. 2 “Hum! yes. Well?’ I discovered a circular Indentation in the ground, such as would be made by a person in pressing the weight ie one heel, and turning it several times. “T believed that I would find the cartridge-shell pressed out of sight beneath the earth, and I did.” 66 Bravo! 99? “T then looked for a rag with which the revolver had been cleaned.” “ And found it?” | acy did. ”? “What was it?” ‘‘A piece torn from the center of a caibee handkerchief of ae fine quality, such as a lady would carry.” sorb A 2 “That, and the size of the heel- mark convinced me that the murderer was a woman.” “What did she use for a ramrod, or. cleaner, to force... > the rag through the empty barrel?” “TI don’t know. A lead-pencil, or a piece of wire would do. But the bit of rag tells me an interesting story.” “Eh? the rag?” “ce Yes. 9 “Did it have a name on it?” “No; there was no mark whatever except the dirt from the weapon.” “ How then does it tell you anything by “Let me inform you first what it tells me.” “Well ?” “It tells me that the crime was carefully preheditited, with every chance foreseen and well calculated, even ‘to. the cleansing of the weapon. It tells me that the person who committed it was thoroughly aware of the habits of home, but while he was in it.” bit of dirty rag?” “Not at all.” — : CHAPTER VII. CHICK OUTWITTED. “The rag,” continued Nick, “was taken from the center of the handkerchief. | Why? Beeause the border; even though it bore no name, might be recognized or ‘matehed some time. What does that indicate? Premeditation and calculation. ‘“‘The rag was cut from the‘ handkerchief, and not fn out. What does that indicate? Premeditation. and caleu- latian. the street had designed it for the very purpose to which it -to its owner.” all evidences by which it could by eee hity Na = “Ifthe murder had been committed with a knits, val : mitted was the condition of the weapon that.did the work.” _ “All this flashed through my mind in an instant, when '|the murdered man, not only when he was away from his — “Would you mind saying how you read all that from a. “It shows that the person who threw that bit of rag ito was put, and had, therefore, taken great care . to destrcy Tae Eee Spa _- and then wheeled and dashed awa NICK CARTER LIBRARY. “T£ the piece fram which it was cut could be found, the: . two would fit.” “T would wager that ‘the other piece wag burned long be-' fore this one was put in. use, It will never be found. It is not a clew in that sense.” “Well, what has all this to do with the previous ‘know]l- edge of the IUFAGESE, regarding the habits of William Burnham ?” “This; the careful premeditation and flealation could not have been so’ thoroughly arranged, and the plan so successfully carried out, if it were otherwise. .The rag proves the premeditation and the premeditation proves the previous knowledge. One never plans unless one knows something about the things planned about. ¥ fey ue. 99 “To proceed. I next examined the street where the horse might have been waiting, and I found droppings and other evidences, besides wheel-marks agaist the curb, which convinced me that the horse had been left alone and had wandered slowly along, a step at atime, from John street, nearly to William. “You have seen horses move along in that way, haven’t you?” 66 Yes. 9 “T am satisfied that the ee was he onded during that time, because if a person had remained in the buggy, ~ or at the horses’s head, he would not have wandered ; but, even if he had, whoever had him in charge, would not | ‘have permitted him to scrape paint from the spokes and ' felloes as I know he did, nor to have rubbed his neck for several moments against a young tree that “stands there. Q “Did he do that?” “Yes, and rubbed off a lot more sorrel-hair from his ' neck and mane.” - “Go on, please.” “The horse was turned and ¢riven back the ethan way, because we know that he came: through. John street to‘ . Washington avenue. We have sufficient testimony that a horse was seen about that time.” . Yey, You sai@a little while ago that the woman had a companion.” 786 Yes. ” “ How do you prove that - - “YT don’t prove it; I infer it.” “From what?” “First, a woman, driving alone at that hour would be peetioularly remarked, would she not?” ; Ves. ” “T have already proved careful promeditation and cal- culation, I believe.” “ Vog, % a : “Very well; one who had so thoroughly calculated every other point, would net neglect one so important as this. She would provide herself with a companion. “Second, the fact of her stopping to clean the revolver, proves ber to be thoroughly cool headed. Being so, she would know exactly where she wanted to go, when she leaped into the buggy after the crime. We know that when‘ the buggy reached the corner of John street and Washington avenue, it partly turned toward the south, toward the north. “We do not believe that she had lost her bearings, for she has already proved that she knew the ground too well for that. ~ “ We do not believe that she was undecided which way to turn, because she had too nicely preconceived every other move.” | “Why, then, did she turn?” “Because she had a companion whom ane was obliged to pick up and take away with her. He was not in sight when she reached the corner, and she knew that she must. look for him in the direction of the road-house. “But he reached the corner almost as soon as she did. : _ He sprang into the buggy, and the course originally de- cided upon was taken. “There is one more point worth considering.” “What is that?” a1 know that the buggy stopped at the corner west from ' Was ington avenue, or John street, when it first came. I know that both its occupants got down there, and that. the. horse was left lone. Here arises: a another inference. _ = Il “Tf the woman had determined to ieineait the murder, and if she had made the man her confidant, he would havo remained in ‘the buggy. to wait for her, for. ‘under such cir- cumstances, it would not do to leave the horse by himself, and thus run the risk of losing the means of. escape from the scene of the contemplated crime. “If the man did not know that such a crime was con- templated ; if she brought him along with her si imply asa _ shield, she would naturally send, him upon some errand in order to clear the way for her own designs. “In that case, the horse was stopped at the corner, and the man got out, leaving the woman in the buggy. oie “She remained where she was until he was out of sight. Then she sprang from the carriage, taking the blanket or lap-robe, which ever it was with her, probably to wrap around her as a disguise, or to throw over the head of a pursuer. “How she scaled the fence I do not know; what her motive could have been in committing the crime does not appear; but I believe that I am right, and- if the mur- derer of William Burnham is ever discovered it will be found to be a woman, who came to the scene of the crime in a buggy drawn by a sorrel horse, exactly as I have re- cited it.” Nick Carter had certainly worked out a remarkable case, when we consider that he began with twisting a single horse-hair around one finger. ° For obvious reasons he said nothing to the superintend- dent about the mysterious woman who had called upon him at his Liberty-street office. Nick was not at all satisfied that she was not a crank, and, at all events, he felt that he would rather see ard talk with Chick before he committed himself in any way regarding her. The superintendent asked him what he proposed as the next move, but Nick shook his head. “*T haven’t determined yet,” he said. “I prefer to devote a little time to thinking it over be- fore I decide what course to pursue.” “When will I see you again?” | '“In a day or two. Perhaps to-morrow.” **Very good.” Nick returned to New York at once, and went immedi- ately to his own honae, where he confidently expected to find a message from Chick. But Chick was there himself. “So Barbara Bennett wasn’t worth much attention, eh?” said the detective, when he saw Chick. “On the contrary, I think she is.” “Then why didn’t you keep her in sight?” “Because I couldn’t.” 46 Eh a7 Se - “Because I couldn’t.” “Do you mean to say:that you let a woman outwit you?” “T mean that she did outwit me. " as Whew ! 49? “Inside of an hour. too.” “You followed her when she came down from the office?” - “Of course.” “Where did she go?” - “Straight across to the Courtlandt. street station of the elevated road.” “Well?” “T went with her to the station and got on the same car. “We rode to Twenty-third street, and there she got out. “T followed. She walked straight through to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and went in through the ladies’ entrance. my couldn’t goin with the rig I wore, and I had no chance to make a change quick enough to do any good, so I waited. “When it got dark, I managed to make myself some-. ‘ what more respectable without losing sight of that ‘door. “By and by I walked boldly in and went to the ladies? arlor. os My party wasn’t there, and, after satisfying myself of ‘that fact, I went to the hotel office and inquired if a lady named Barbara Bennett was stopping there. “There was no such name on the books, and it was en- tirely unknown to the clerks. - “T hung around the place nearly all night, making fre- . hae changes i in my disguise to avoid attracting attention. 2 i Nip oer R LIBRARY. “But if was no use. “T haven’t seen Barbara Bennett since she entered the hotel, and it’s my opinion that I won't. “Where she went to is more than I can say, and I would not be surprised if she dissolved into air, or something equally impossible.” ‘Chick was greatly chagrined over his failure, for it was the first time that he had ever been defeated in ‘that w ay. “Do you think she left the hotel, Chick %” asked the de- tective. “Of course.” ““T don’t.” 4 Why oY) “T believe that she is stopping there under another name, and I think I will become a guest of the house my-|- self for a few days.” ‘“‘What shall I do?” “¥ind Blanche Bullard, and verify the statements con- _.cerning her, made by the woman you lost. Get all. the par ticulars you can, and bring them to me at the hotel.” “What name?” “TI will call myself Dudley Graham.” “When will you go there?”: a Now. ” “ Any further instructions?” “Only do your best. If you light upon a clew of any kind, follow it. If such a person as Albert Dorning exists and you can get any track of him, do sa. _ 1 feel that the first necessity of this case is to find Barbara Bennett again.” CHAPTER VIII. CHICK’S ADVENTURE. That night saw Nick installed as a guest of the hotel. He was religiously observant of the hours for meals; he frequented the ladies’ parlors more than gentlemen usually do, and he passed his time in closely watching the faces of every female guest, using every opportunity that he could get for that purpose. Nevertheless, three days passed and brought absolutely no result, and he was forced to the conclusion that Chick was right, and that the woman had gone into the-hotel and out again by some other entrance, somehow manag- ing to leave no trace of her transit. ¢ “Three days wasted,” he mused, as he paid his bill at the office and strolled through the wide corridor toward Broadway. “Itis rather strange, too, that I have heard . nothing from Chick.’ But the thought had scarcely framed itself in his mind | when he saw the object of his thoughts approaching at a rapid walk. “Any luck?” asked Chick, as he joined the detective: “No. How is it with you?” “T have met with several remarkable experiences.” ‘“Have, eh? Come over to Slosson’s. We can sit down there and talk without being disturbed.” They went together to Slosson’s famous billiard-room, little thinking that the chance, that took them there was to be productive of the key which would ultimately re- veal the very mystery with which they were contending. Two seats were found in the south-west corner of the room. “Now, tell me your story?” said Nick; Bullard girl?” ce Yes. 99 “Talk with her?” “c Yes. bb) “And had she been engaged by a woman to steal some papers from Burnham ?” “Yes; she would not admit it,.at first, but I finally got it out of her. But I got more.” “What?” “A copy of the papers.” ‘What !” rt Fact. ” “Then - she kept the papers, and substituted others in their places, eh?” . “No,” “What, then?” a ‘did you see the} “Smart girl!” “You bet!” “The Bennett woman lied, then, when she said that Blanche Bullard did not deliver the right papers to her. eas EOS: dollars back again ?” “Ves. bb] “Did the Bullard girl confess iat she had copied the papers ?” oe No. ” ‘*So Barbara Bennett has no idea of that, eh ?” “No,” : : “Humph !” “Queer business, isn’t it?” ne Yes. ” for her, that they were not the right ones, and then, in coming ‘to you, to engage you to find property that was in her possession all the time? Perhaps she had a reason in setting you onto the murderer, and thought that this was a good way to do it, while, at the same time, she——” Suddenly Nick’s countenance cleared. “Chick,” he exclaimed, “ you’ve struck it.” “Struck what?” “The solution of the mystery.” . Have I? Then it must be a case of unconscious brilli- ancy.” * “It is, lad.” ““Humph !” s “You have asked a question which I can easily answer, but which I had not thought to ask in just that way.” “Glad of it.” “Tt has been drifting around in my cranium for the last ten minutes, and you have clenched it for me.” “Would you mind being a little more explicit?” “No. I will tell you what I mean without stopping to give my reasons.’ “It was the woman who calls herself, Barbara Bennett, who shot William Burnham. There was a man with her whom she managed to deceive, and who, to this day, prob- ably has no idea that she committed the murder.” ‘““Must be an ass.” “No; she is unusually keen. She wants to get rid of him as well as of Barnham. She has arranged her meshes so that when clews enough are found to lead to his being suspected and captured, there will be a chain of circum- stantial evidence which cannot help but convict him of the crime. ‘She relies upon his loyalty not to mention the fact that she was with him that night, for, having no idea that she shot Burnham, he will not connect her with his misfor- tunes. ‘‘She came to me, Chick, simply to make me her tool in helping her get rid of this man by fixing the crime upon him, and I’l) prove it before I’m very much older, or my name is not Nick Carter. “Now, let us go back to your story. You persuaded the Bullard girl to let you copy the copies that she had ?” be Yes. 9 “Have you got them with you?” “Yes.” “ Are they as she described them ?” “Not exactlly. Shall I hand them over?” “Not now. Is there a marriage certificate?” 66 Yes. >) “Between the parties she named ?” Judson, instead of William Burnham J udson. y “ And the deed ?” . “Ts made by Barbara Bates to William Judson for ihe consideration of one dollar.” ‘ “ What does it convey ?” s story | frame house, situated on Fifteenth ‘street in ek aes City. 2 Ant a road-house.” “Yes; and it can’t be worth over two thousand dollars. a “Sho simply took hen from the package, copied them, snd then roplned them where she had found them.” “What about the willf” _ MS “It isn’t a will. i! oe re “Was it true about her going and claiming her thousand : ‘‘What was her dodge—Barbara Goncoils I mean—in_ Tart trying to convince the woman who stole the papers _ “ Between Barbara Bates instead of Bennett, and William . “A piece of land one hundred feet square, with a one- Zz NICK CARTER LIBRARY. 13 “What is it?” “A confession made by a dying man. It is an odd docu- ment, and .] fancy has much todo with the murder, as » well as with considerable property which, it confesses, is ® _leave. the proceeds of numerous crimes. Here itis. Read it. You will notice that the name has been entirely obliter- ated.” Nick took the paper and read as follows: “Tamdying. After a long life of crime, one who should have been executed by the law dies on his bed a natural death. I have two children. My son disappeared twenty years ago, and I have not seen liim since, although I have good.reason to believe that he still lives. He isa criminal like myself. I taught him to be one. My daughter is in New York. and thisis my last message to her. It is to take the place of a will, and she is to follow its directions implicitly. “YT have thirty thousand dollars in cash hidden away where nobody can find it without the directions that I The money is the proceeds of many a crime rang- ing from petty-thievery to murder. No one but a criminal would consent to use it, andI leave it to my daughter Barbara. No matter how wicked I may be, or have been, she is worse. For that reason I leave her my blessing. “There are two papers in existence besides this, and the three form the key to the hiding-place of my money. Bar- bara knows where the other,papers are. One is a deed, and the other a marriage certificate. She knows how to discover the secret from all three, for I have often told er. ; There had been a name signed, but it was so thoroughly obliterated that it was illegible. “These are only copies, Chick?” said Nick. “That’s all.” “They are worthless, except to prove the motive of the crime. The secret can only be found on the originals.” - “ Why 9” “Tt was probably written there with some kind of in- visible ink, which only becomes legible when submitted to heat, or to some chemical test.” “These papers were stolen and delivered to Barbara _ Bennett or Bates before Burnham was killed.” Burnham had already found the secret. “Exactly.” ae “Then what motive had she for killing him ?” ‘“He knew too much.” bb Eh on i “In some way, she discovered from the papers that She feared the use that he would make of his knowledge, or else she be- lieved that he would secure the thirty thousand dollars, if -he lived, and she killed him.” ‘Do you notice how that confession is crumpled ?” “ce Yes. ” u i ‘About an hour after I left Blanche Bullard, a man ap- proached me, who asked if I would give him a little piece of. paper on which to write a note. “T took my papers from my coat-pocket to find some- thing for him, when he made a grab for the whole lot. “He only got one, and that happened to be the one. ‘““As he grabbed it, he started and ran. “We hada good open road before us, and I took after him. ‘He saw that.I was gaining and likely to overtake him, and suddenly he stopped, picked up a stone, wrapped the paper around it, and hurled them both as far out into the river as he could. “Then he turned and legged it again with all his might. “T wanted the paper a good deal more than I did him, and so I stopped. “The paper, fortunately, slipped from the stone and did not evén go into the water, so that I easily secured it. ~ Now, what do you think of all that?” “He must have known that you had those papers in _ your possession.” -that he could get.” “Yes, unless he was simply a thief“who was grabbing all “Hardly that. He would have grabbed your watch in- stead of the papers, had that been the case. Was he a——” Nick paused suddenly, for Chick reached out his hand. “Nick,” he said, “do you see that young man who just came in?” | _ “Standing near the cashier’s desk ?” be Yes. bP) ; “T see him.” : “That is either the fellow that grabbed the papers or it’s his younger brother. This man is younger and better dressed, but I’ll bet my life he’s the same one.” “Good! How were you dressed when he saw you?” “Just as I am now.” “Good again. He has not seen us yet. Shp away from me, and wait until I get quite close to him. Then go up and accuse him of grabbing your papers. Don’t makea row ; do it in a good-natured way.” “Suppose I happen to be wrong?” - “You must admit that you are wrong before you are through with him. Apologize, open a bottle, do anything to set the matter right, and leave the rest to me. _ “If, after you have talked with him, you are convinced that you really are wrong, suddenly recognize me as an old acquaintance. If you believe that you are right, and he is the man, don’t notice me.” - “ Correct !” CHAPTER IX. DORNING’S DOUBLE. Chick carried out the arrangement to the letter. He waited until Nick was in close proximity to the man who had just entered, who stood with one elbow resting upon the counter adjoining the cashier’s desk. Then he stepped forward and touched him lightly upon the shoulder. ‘‘Good-evening,” he said, quietly. The stranger turned haughtily toward him. “You have the advantage of me, I think, sir,” he said. “ Well, you ought to know me,” replied Chick, coolly. “Ought I? Iam glad to say that I do not.” “Tam the man from whose hands you grabbed a pack- age of papers in New Jersey yesterday.” “What!” ‘“Didn’t you hear me?” “Are you trying to provoke a quarrel with a stranger? are you drunk? are you a lunatic? or are youonly a loafer ?” The questions were accompanied by a cool stare that was most tantalizing and for a moment Chick was nettled. “Tam not endeavoring to provoke a quarrel,” he said, keeping his temper, because when I do that, I pick out somebody nearer my size; Iam not drunk, for the very good reason that I have not taken adrink to-day. Iam not a lunatic, because I have a distinct memory of event@ -which happened yesterday, and Iam not a loafer, as you, yourself, can perceive.” “Ah, indeed! What are you?” In a war with words, the fellow’s cool audacity was rapidly proving too much for Chick. é *‘T am a detective!” he said, coldly, “and I believe I re- cognize in you a person who assaulted me yesterday. I may be mistaken. If I am, I will apologize. If I am not, I will arrest you and take you to police headquarters, if it is the last effort of my life. If Ihave made a. mistake, the fault lies in your resemblance to the man for whom I take you, and it is for you to set me right.” The demesnor of the haughty individual changed at once. ‘Pardon me,” he said. “I had no idea that you were an officer. I think, however, that I can set you right at once.” “Please do so. I shall be very glad to know that Iam wrong.” “I was in this room from two.until 6.30 yesterday. Did your encounter happen between-those hours?” “Yes; about three.” a He turned to the cashier. “Do you remember me?” he asked. “ Perfectly.” i ‘Did you see me here yesterday ?” ce Yes.” ; ‘ ‘ ; ¢ > ‘Do you remember at which table I played?” © OER aes . “Which one?” ee, ” No. 3, 14 NICK CARTER LIBRARY. , | oo “This gentleman and I have abet. Will you tell him. how you happen to remember me so well?” “Certainly ; if you wish it.” “T do.” _ “Because you gave me iv ten-dollar bill in payment far your games, and the bill was a counterfeit. The stranger smiled at Chick. “For once I may say that there is luck in a ‘counterfeit bill,” he said. “I had taken it in change for a larger bill, without noticing what it was. It was so palpably a coun- terfeit that it is a wonder that I ever received it. Are you satisfied, or shall I ask the cashier a few more questions.” ~T am perfectly satisfied, and I beg your pardon.” “Granted, my dear sir.’ ~“ The resemblance is most striking. ‘Will you give me your card?” - “Certainly.” Cards were: exchanged, and Chick glanced at the one that was handed to him. fle nearly dropped in his Acteaiheeae Reeovering himself instantly, he pronounced the name aloud, for the benefit of Nick, who stood close by an in- terested observer of all that transpired. “ Albert Dorning,” he exclaimed. ‘“ Why, I once hada schoolinate by that name, but he wag fair, and you are dark.” It will be remembered that Albert Dorning had been described by Barbara Bennett as being fair, and with side- whiskers adorning his face. ' The person before Chick was young, quite dark, and wore only a mustache. In spite of the very complete alibi that Dorning had es- tablished, Chick still believed him to be the man, whom, on the day previous, he had& encountered in New Jersey. There was another mystery somewhere, he was certain. At all events, he resolved to give the cue to Nick and leave him to work it out. He talked with his new acquaintance for: several mo- ments, invited him to havea bottle of wine with him, which invitation was politely declined, and at length with- drew, leaving the room altogether. But another surprise awaited the faithful young assist- ant. He walked through. Twenty- -third street, intending to take the elevated road down town. He had just reached the stairs on the uptown side, when he came face to face with Albert Dorning. “ Well, I'm blowed !” he muttered. Then he stepped forward very quickly, gad. sticking out his hand, exclaimed : “Why good- evening, Mr. Dorning. How do you do?” There was an instant’s hesitation, as though the other were entirely taken aback, and then alight seemed to break over his face. “Ah, good-evening !” he replied. sure. Hope you’re well.”. “Yes, thanks! Where have you been keeping yourself?” exclaimed the young detective, with all the heartiness he could muster. ‘I haven’t seen you in several days.’ “I’ve been around as usual.” “This is the fellow that played billiards yesterday, he the other one was grabbing my papers,” was what was passing in Chick’s mind. “Two of them are playing at doubles. Now, I wonder what for.” A few more ‘commonplaces were exchanged, and then Chick bade his supposed friend good-night, and ran up | the steps toward the elevated station. There was no one on the stairs, and Chick worked one- of his quick changes. He put on a mustache and goatee, substituted a soft felt- | hat far the high crush-hat that he then wore. changed bis) necktie and scarf-pin, and then started in the wake of the man with whom he had just been talking. “Didn’t know me from Adam,” muttered Chick, as he went along. “Thinks the other fellow does, and he ‘has to - keep up the game. e. “Humph! Nick will stick to Dorning No. 1, and I will stick to Dorning No. 2. Unless I am greatly mistaken, we wil] meet before long. “Glad to see you, I’m “Hello. Fifth avenue, e eh? That's where the ‘woman | Barbara Bennett went. I Ge “By Jove!” he. exclaimed, suddenly. “T’ll bet tnat’s the game!” He managed to be eloss enough to the man jhe was fol- ' lowing, so that when he asked for his key, the detective ascertained the number of the room he occupied. Dorning No. 2 went to his room at once, and Chick got : a cigar, and began strolling up and down watching for. ‘Nick to appear in the wake of Dorning No. 1.: Hour after hour passed, and he did not come. “Wonder what’s up?” mused Chick. ‘It can’t be that they are playing billiards all this time.” . . The hour was getting late. Employees around the hotel began to look nonce at Chick, who, they-thought, had loafed there long enough. “Guess I’ll go out and work a change,” he mused. “They don’t seem to like thisvi ig as well as they did when I first came in.” — He: started for. the door, reached it, and was about to .pass out to Broadway, when he saw Dorning No. 1: ap- proaching at a rapid walk, Chick turned instantly and went back toward the desk, release sufficiently slow, so that Dorning would overtake im He calculated the speed to a nicety, and stood where he : again heard the number of the room when it was re- quested. Then, as Dorning No. 1 went on his way, Chick again went out onto Broadway. | “They're bold, anyway,” he mused. “They pass for the same person outside, and for brothers, or anyhow for twq persons in the house. I wonder where Nick is. He ought to be in the wake of this fellow somewhere.” - But Nick did not appear. _ Chick waited and watched for a long time, but j in vain. - * anys * oar * * Let us return to the moment when Chick left the bil- liard-room. Nick, it will be remembered, was in the background, closely observing and listening to all that took place. He heard the alibi talked over, and wondered if Chick had really made a mistake, but when young Hercules left the place without making the signal, Nick was forced to believe that Chick considered himself correct, in -spite of: the alibi. Fifteen minutes had not elapsed after Chick left the bil- liard-room before Albert Dorning also took his departure. Nick sauntered out carelessly, but keeping his manin sight all the time. They crossed Broadway, and went northward as far as the Hoffman House. Dorning entered and went straight to the telephone office. He was closeted in one of the little compartments for ‘several moments. Nick did not know what occurred there, until long afterward, but for the benefit of the reader, we will reveal it now. Having secured the desired number, Dorning Degen the one-sided conversation, as follows: “Hello! “Ts that Peter? “Ts Ben there? “Ask him to come to the ’phone.” A short wait, and then—— “ Hello Ben ! “Say, do you remember the name of the man I was talk- ing. about at our last conversation ? . “His first name begins with N. - “T want you to do what we talked about. _ “To-night. od will, arrange the preliminaries, “Yes, .Watch your chance and look out for the man be- hind me, no matter how he’s dressed. “Do-you thoroughly understand ? “All right. He has noidea that Iknow him. There was a time—but never mind ; syou know what I want done “now Well, good-by.” If Nick could have heard what was said, just as we ee agsimas PO Tie reas z i. : ¢ - eurt reply. NICK CARTER LIBRARY. | 15 =- —— ve recorded it, he would have had some warning of the plot that was being laid against him. - He would, at least, have realized that he was known to the person whom he was shadowing, and would have been even more cautious than he was. .But he did not hear it, and therefore he could not pos- sibly know that anything threatened him. _ While Dorning was in the telephone compartment, Nick improved the opportunity to make a few alterafions i in his disguise, so that when the object of his vigilance again appeared, the detective would not be recogniged as one who had been in the billiard-room but a short time before. - As for Dorning, he somehow knew that Nick Carter was on his track. -Knowing that, he also knew that he would never leave it; no matter what disguise he might assume, he would still be there. Dorning traded upon the well- known tenacity and skill of the great detective. CHAPTER. X. THE RESCUE. Presently Dorning left the Hoffman House. . He turned leisurely up Broadway, walking slowly, and evidently with no object in view but strolling. At Thirty-fourth street, he turned onto Sixth avenue, never pausing until he reached the corner of Forty-second street. There he waited until a west-bound car came along. He boarded that, passing inside, and seating himself, - while Nick rode upon the platform. ‘ At Tenth avenue, he left the car and turned south, walk- ing rapidly, while Nick, again making a few alterations, pursued. They passed Forty-first street, then Fortieth street, and presently reached Thirty-ninth. There, Dorning again turned westward. The neighborhood, in many respects,.is as bad as aay in New York. Nick understood that fact thoroughly, but it did not once occur to hiin that he was in any danger. He began to wonder where the elegantly.dressed young man was leading him, and to calculate upon how longa time would elapse before some gang of hoodlums would espy the diamond upon Dorning’s tie, and seek to obtain it. resently Nick’s route took him past an alley-way that was as dark as Erebus. He had just passed it when three forms feaped out upon him, Every man of.them held a bludgeon in his hand, and be- fore Nick had any chance to defend himself, he. was struck upon the head and felled to the ground. The blow was, however, a glancing one. While it partially stunned the detective for a moment, it did not render him senseless. He had sense enough to remain perfectly still, for he well knew that if he moved it would only be a signal for another blow, more deadly than the first, and that he should probably be killed. He heard footsteps rapidly approaching, and for an in- stant believed that help was at. hand. But he quickly discovered his mistake. “Is he done for, Ben?” asked a voice that Nick recog- nized as belonging to Dorning. “He’s deader’n a-herrin’, boss,” was the gruff reply. “Well, run a knife in him to make sure.” Nick shuddered. “Kf ye want any knifin’ done, do it yerself, * was Ben's “T say ’e’s dead, an’ I reckon as ’ow my job’s done. Go through him, lads.” 66 Stop! 7 It was Dorning who spoke again. ~“T pay you for this job, Ben, and I don’t want any loot- ing on this lay. Do you understand ” “Yes,” sullenly. “Pick him.up and carry him into the shanty,” ” was the next order. “Best chuck him into the river.” “Best do as I say, unless you want a hole through yuu,” was the curt response. Nick felt himself seized and lifted from the ground. He knew that he was being carried through the alley from which the men who had attacked him had issued. Presently they paused and dropped him roughly upon the ground. Then he neard a door wlocieed. and he was raised again and borne through into a place of inky blackness. Through his closed eyelids, he presently realized that some kind of a light had been obtained. “Now, Ben,” said Dorning, ‘‘send the others out. and I can do the rest without any help.” Two of the men left, leaving Nick alone with Ben and Dorning, and he was just making ready to (eap up and — tackel the two of them, when Dorning’s cold voice broke the silence again : My revolver is pointing at your heart, Nick Carter,” he said. “I know that you are not dead; I know that you can hear me. I will shoot. -Bind him, Ben.” Ben get to work. He wound stout cords around Nick’s legs and body, rendering him absolutely helpless. “Now, put him on the trap, Ben.” Nick was moved to a spot which he judged to be in the center of the floor.: Then Ben was told to go. “Nick Carter,” said Dorning, coldly, “in an hour you will .be dead, so just to amuse youl! will tell you a few secrets about that murder that interests you. Do you want to hear them ?” “Yes.” “Very well. First, amawoman. I am Barbara Ben- nett, or Bates, alias a dozen other names. Iam the woman who called upon you when you played Old Thunderbolt. I wanted to engage you to find those papers because the originals have been lost, for although I have what seems to be the right ones, they are copies. I believed that you could find them for me, and if, by chance, you happened. to hang my brother Bert during the process, I did not much care. “T was once foolish enough to fall in love with Will Burnham, and he managed to worm the story of my father’s life out of me. Ultimately he got possession of the papers and hid them away. I could not find them, and I could not get them from him by threats, and so, being fearful that he would get possession of the money, I shot ‘him, trusting to luck to find the papers after he was dead. “T have not succeeded. “He had probably hidden them somewhere where no- body else will ever find them. “IT saw that you were too hot upon my track, and I laid this little plan to put you out of the way. “ Good-night,' Nickie ;'I’l1 meet you in Hades.” She kicked a bolt as she ceased speaking, and Nick shot down into a black and foul smelling pit, followed by a heartless laugh. Consciousness left him when he struck the bottom of the pit. How long he remained thus, he did not.know, but it could have been but a few moments. When he opened his eyes, he tried to move his arms, but he was as absolutely helpless as though he were in reality dead. He tried time after time, but each attempt proved more useless than the preceding one. He had just given up, convinced that he had at last met his fate, when he heard footstep§ overhead. A moment later the trap was raised, and. looking up, he could see the forbidding countenance of Ben, as he tried to peer down into the darkness. “*Eilo there!” he shouted, presently. “Yes,” replied Nick. i Ave ye got a bauk account?” ‘ce Yes. 99 A “Got ten thousan’ quid ?” ‘ 6s Yes. 99 ~ “Be: you hc Carter - “Yes.” You “Hare ye alive?” “Ef Ill save ye, will ve sive me ten thousand dollars i in cold cash, an’ let me go to boot?” . If you move, or make any effort to escape, __ 16 NICK CARTER LIBRARY. ee eae — Nick Carter Library “T promise. by cb tad satacr ® ENOM | THE ONLY § CENT LIBRARY OF DETECTIVE STORIES. “Yes. 99 “ll do it.” eee ee ena oe He left the trap and presently returned with a ladder, | ISSUED EVERY SATURDAY. PRICE FIVE CENTS: which he lowered into the hole. No. 213.—’MID FLYING BULLETS; on, Lrvery Ties on THe Then he came down. CuEsaPEAKE. By the Author of. ‘Nick Carter.” The cords which bound the detective were soon cut, and | No. eae ee eee: eer ‘ OB a Craver Forcr’s he was once more free, saved from a most horrible death. | x, 916 WORSE. meee MURDER: be Meet oe i anon kde Nick always carried a good supply of cash. ee on THE SupuRBAN Roxsseries. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” He was not without some, then. No. 216.—BROCKWELL THE COUNTERFEITER; or, Patsy nt He drew out a roll of bills, and placed it in Ben’ 8 s hands. Uncre Sam’s Sxcret Service. By the Author of “Nick 86 ET W & mm. m _ Carter There dre a thousand dollars,” he said. “Come tomy |x, o17_NIGK CARTER ON THE WHEEL; on, Tae Derzorrva's house to-morrow at noon, and you shall have the balance.” | Pertious Ring Down Hunter Mountarx. By the Author “1ll be there, boss.” * Saag et Carter.” i 4 0. — SYS CLEVER CAPTURE; orn, Tar Duneron Witt Nick thanked Ben for the service that had been done, THE Fauuine Roor, By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” a and hurried way. No, 219.—CHECK 777; on, Huntiva tHE Same Man Twice. By the f he had no idea that the woman who had come Author of ‘Nick Garter.” Of course, he had no idea 220.—PATSY AND THE MOUNTAIN OUTLAW; op, Dowx so near to being his murderer, had gone to the Fifth THE WATER CHUTE AFTER AN Assassin. By the Author of | ‘Nick Carter. Avenue Hotel. ; _ |No, 221—THREE THOUSAND MILES BY FREIGHT; on, Tae He did not know where to look for hér, so he went di- Mystery oF A Prano Box. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.’ . 222._PATSY AMONG THE NIHILISTS; on, A Pror Acarnst rectly home, and happened to arrive ab the seme moment THE Czar. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” as Chick. No. 223.—_THE THIRTEENS’ OATH pea VENGEANCE’; on, A wer uickly exchanged, and as Crrinat Compact. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” a 7 eS : aie y Chk Sa : d 224,—PATSY’S FIGHT WITH THE PROFESSOR; or, THE Chick’s information revealed the oT w ae ees er- ~ Secret or 4 Torn Boox-Cover. By the Author of “Nick ous woman was at that moment, Nick concluded to lose | — Carter.” ; : |No. 225..-THE FATE OF DOCTOR QUARTZ; on, Taz Murper 18 no time. ; : : THE DissEctinc Room, By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter.” “Come,” he said to Chick, “we will go now, and finish . 226.—PATSY IN RUSSIA; on, Tue Derecrive In THE GRAND this work.” Duxrr’s Patacr. By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter.” Scr . 227.—PACKAGE “17A;” on, Tue Seceretor 4 FammxyFeup. By They went together. the Author-of “Nick Carter.” The hotel people were quietly told of the PSE and, | No. 298.—PATSY IN ENGLAND; on, Taz Oaprune or 4 Dante Rare way Murprerrer. By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter. after making the condition that there should be no celeb- | No, 229._NICK CARTER’S GREATEST PERIL; on, A ‘Prisonze ; 3 he matter. the ffered - For Lire Wrrs tue Deap. By the Author ‘of “Nick Carter.” Hie On pewarayen ale eves (Ue » Whey olerec’ | No. 230.—PATSY A't HOME AGAIN; on, A Cuasz Up anp Down THE every facility to the assistance of the detectives. Pautsapes. By the Author of “Nick Carter.” Nick went to the door of the room occupied by the . 231,—THE GREAT DETECTIVE DEFIED; or, ZELMA THE FE- beth a ack ‘ d dtl dan a MALE Fignp. By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter.” rother and sister, who passed as brothers, and rapped. . 2932,PATSY IN ‘THE WILLIAM STREET DEN; or, Frus- “Who is there?” came a question a moment later. Paulas a WuouEsaLe Scueme or Roppery. By “Nick ; c + : arter.”” “Bell-boy with a telegram,” answered Nick. _ 233.—PATSY ON THE TERRY MURDER CASE; on, Tam The door was opened, and Nick | leaped inside, seizing Story or a Curious Dacerr. By the author of ‘Nick - Carter.” Barbara Bates as he did so. Ae _ 934._THE LITTLE GIANT’S TASK; on, Nick Canrar’n Won- For once, she gave a truly feminine scream. pEeRFuL Nerve. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” “A ghost!” she cried. . 235.—PATSY AND ‘THE DIAMOND MYSTERY; or, Innocence ie J of ‘oNT] 9 “Yes,” replied Nick, grimly, “the ghost of your crimes. AND Gurr In A Burcuary. By the author of ‘Nick Carter. ; ss . 236.—BROUGHT TO BAY AT LAST; or, Ovrwirrgp, Ovrt- Your day is past, Barbara. GENERALED, AND OuTpons., By the Author of “Nick Carter.” f : . 237._PATSY BREAKS THE RECORD; or, How tae Earts What his fate was, TRAVELED Away From Him. By the Author of ‘‘Nick CARTER.” Yo. 238.—NICK CARTER’S CELEBRATED CASE ; on, TEE Mys- [THE END.] 2 TERIES OF GorHaM. By the Author of “NrcK Carrer.” : . 239.—PATSY'S STRING OF FISH; or, Tre ‘PASSWORD OF THE Drstroyinc Ancrts. By the author of ‘Nick Carter.” 240.—THE LITTLE GIANT ON DECK; or, Tae Great As- : ® vuction Case. By the Author of “Nick Carter. e VE . 241. -PATSY UNDER ARREST; or, tHE Derrctive’s EXPERIENCE DIME NO IN AN Asytum. By the A’ ‘athor of ‘Nick Carter.” BOUGHT & SOLD >. 242.—YOUNG HERCULES, NICK CARTER’S ASSISTANT; on, é “ho CHARLES BRAGIN aoe or Musciu anp Nerve. By the Author of Nick 1525 W. 1 42th St. . 243.—PATSY IN PARIS; on, Tue American Visrror TO THR Brookiyn 4, N. Y. : Morcusz. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.’ * The detective has told me that he never came, is a mystery. AUTHOR. 944--NICK CARTER IN SAN FRANCISCO; on, Ungarraine Crime IN Cu1naTown. By the Author of “Nick Carter.” . 245.—PATSY BEFORE THE ALAMO; or, a Suppen Catn To Texas. By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter.” . 246.—NICK CARTER IN CHICAGO; on,.THe Crime or THE Lax Crry. By the Author of ‘‘Nick Carter.” . 247.—PATSY AT THOMPSON RANCH. By the Author of — *‘Nick Carter.” . 448.—NICK CARTER’S MYSTERIOUS CASE; or, Tus Roap- Hovuss Tracepy. By the Author of ‘Nick Carter.” “ Parsy’s STRANGEST CasE; or, INVESTIGATING A MuRnER| No. 249.—PATSY’S STRANGEST CASE; or, Investiaatine 4 Mur Mystery,” by the author of “Nick Carter,” will be pub-| DER Mystery. By he Author of ‘Nick Carter.” lished in the next panes oY) of the NICK oe STREET & SMITH, Publishers. LipRaRY, Ce a 29 Rove o Stroot Ni New Yorks