Nick Carter Detective Library, No. 1 by Nicholas Carter (find a book to read .TXT) 📖

he received him as he would have received no other man in the whole city of New York; in his own proper person. One of the cardinal points of Nick’s faith in himself was that by keeping himself entirely unknown to everybody his various disguises were rendered absolutely impenetrable.

“I am glad to see you, inspector,” was his greeting to the chief. “Sit down, help yourself to a cigar and we will talk it all over, for I suppose you are here on business.”

“You are right, Nick.”

“You never come unless there is something of importance on hand. What is it to-night?”

“The Eugenie La Verde affair.”

“Why, I thought that was given up.”

“So it is-by everybody except myself.”

“Ah! By the way, I see that-”

“That Delia Dent is dead? Yes.”

“Do you take any stock in her knowing aught of the murder, inspector?”

“None whatever. She was as innocent as you, or I.”

“My opinion, although of course I know nothing about the case.”

“Have you a theory, Nick?”

“No. I avoid theories as I do the typhus or the small-pox. They are dangerous and very catching.”

“Exactly. Still one thinks.”

“Yes-unfortunately.”

“Nick, I want you to take this matter in hand and sift it to the bottom.”

“Easier said than done, inspector.”

“I believe that you can do it.”

“It is a very blind case.”

“Everybody else has failed. Will you try it, Nick? There is a murderer somewhere, and he must be found if it takes years to do it. Will you try it?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you. I feared that you would refuse, and yet–—”

“I may want a favor sometime, eh?”

“Precisely.”

“When am I to begin, and what are your instructions?”

“Begin when you choose, and follow your own bent independently of everybody. I have only one order to give.”

“What is that?”

“That no one but ourselves must know that you are on the case.”

“I should have made that point a condition of my taking it, inspector.”

“You are familiar with the details of the case, I suppose?”

“Yes, sufficiently to begin, unless you have some particular pointer to give me.”

“No, there are no pointers in the case.”

“Humph! Did Eugenie have any relatives living?”

“Yes; a mother.”

“She left some property, did she not?”

“Yes, her mother inherits. I have not learned very much regarding her connections.”

“What becomes of the house? Did she own it?”

“Yes. It is at present locked and deserted.”

“Ah-and you have the key!”

“Certainly.”

“Will you give it to me.”

“Yes. I have it with me. Here it is.”

“Good. While I am at work upon the ease, inspector, will you see that the house remains undisturbed?”

“I will.”

“Did the newspapers recount everything concerning the murder correctly?”

“Oh, yes. There was so little to say regarding the surroundings, that I am sure they covered the ground.”

“You looked for trap-doors, sliding panels, movable casings, and all such things, I suppose?”

“Certainly. We looked very thoroughly.”

“And found nothing!”

“Nothing.”

“Still, it will do no harm for me to have a try.”

“Certainly not.”

“I have found such things in houses where I least expected them before now. It may be that I will find something of the kind there.”

“It may be.”

“But you do not think so?”

“No, frankly, I do not.”

“And yet, how else could the murderer have entered and left the house?”

“My dear Nick, I have asked myself that question at least ten thousand times.”

“And found no answer?”

“None.”

“Well, I’m inclined to the belief that I will find something of the kind there.”

“I hope you will.”

“The case stands this way. A girl was murdered. To have been murdered it seems probable that a stranger gained access to her room.”

“Yes.”

“And yet the condition in which the house was found was such that it is apparently impossible that any one did enter or leave the house after Delia Dent left her mistress that night.”

“Precisely.”

“Therefore it must have been by some means or method of which you are ignorant.”

“Of course.

“How then, if not by a secret door, sliding panel, or some like contrivance?”

“That is the question. How, then?”

“Well, that is then the first thing that I am going to look for.”

“And the next?”

“Will depend upon my success with the first. Is that all, inspector?”

“Nearly. You will find the house exactly as I found it when I first went there to investigate; and now, goodnight, Nick,” continued the inspector, rising, and taking a large envelope from his pocket.

“This,” he said, “contains the entire case from first to last, and you may read it over at your own convenience. Nothing is omitted, and yet very little is said that is worth reading.”

“It is that Eugenie La Verde was choked to death, and that the murderer escaped and left not the slightest clew as to his identity or his haunts.”

“Exactly. And now you must find him.”

“I will try.”

“If anybody can succeed, you can and will.”

“Thanks; I will try.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The door closed, and the great director of detectives was gone.

CHAPTER III.

THE FIRST CLEW.

On the following morning Nick went at once to Eugenie La Verde’s house in Forty-seventh street, disguised as a plumber.

The room which she had formerly occupied was nearly in the same condition in which it had been found on the morning after the murder, and a careful search offered no immediate suggestion to the detective.

From the sleeping room, he passed to the parlor floor, where he inspected all of the window-catches and appliances, casings, and panels.

Again without result.

Presently, he approached the stairs which led from the parlor floor to that below.

The door of communication was at the foot of the stairs, and was both locked and chained on the inner, or parlorfloor side.

There was nothing faulty about either the lock, chain, or door. They were evidently perfect, and he turned his attention to the stairs.

Stairways are convenient arrangements through which to construct a secret passageway, and Nick never neglected them.

Suddenly he made a discovery. The third step from the bottom was not secure in its place.

For more than two hours he continued the search, but without further result.

It was nearly dark when Nick was reminded of the fact that he was hungry, and he quietly left the house in search of a convenient restaurant.

Two blocks away he found a beer saloon, which advertised meals at all hours.

Having entered and ordered what he wanted, he was presently engaged in eating it, when two swarthy, ill-conditioned fellows entered the saloon and seated themselves at the second table from him.

The very first words uttered by the men caused him to listen attentively:

“Captain, Inspector Byrnes made a call last night.”

“Where?” asked the one addressed as captain.”

“Upon that devil of a detective. I don’t care to mention his name here.”

“Ah; the one whom Sindahr calls the little giant? Exactly.

“Well, what of it?”

“It may be that he has set him upon us.”

“Bah! No. There are no reasons for that. The inspector does not even know that we exist.”

“He knows most things.”

“Yes, but nothing of us. Still it may be well to-did you watch for the ‘the little giant.’?”

“Yes.”

“Has he gone out?”

“One never can tell, but I think not. I left there an hour ago, and Tony has taken my place. I could swear that he had not left the house when I came away.”

Nick smiled.

“Come, John,” said the captain. “We have been here long enough and we have other work to do. It is dark now. Come.”

They rose quickly and left the place, and upon the instant Nick decided to shadow them.

CHAPTER IV.

SHADOWING.

Nick did not rush from the saloon as soon as the two men left, but sauntered carelessly to the bar, paid for what he had eaten and drank, and then went slowly out.

As he had suspected, they were not far away. They were standing upon the curbstone apparently engaged in earnest conversation, but in reality waiting to see if they would be followed.

The fact that they were so cautious, gave added zest to the chase.

Nick sauntered carelessly past them, to the avenue which was only about two hundred feet farther on.

A hallway door between two stores stood conveniently ajar on the opposite side, and he entered it with the air of one who lived there.

Pausing in the dark hallway, he began a rapid change in his disguise, and presently he looked like an old man in poor circumstances who worked hard all day, and took an airing and a glass or two of toddy in the evening.

Five or ten minutes passed, and then the two men suddenly separated, the one called John going away rapidly in the opposite direction, and the captain jumped upon a car that was passing at that moment.

He took his stand upon the rear platform with his back toward the car, as though he thought that he might be followed.

A car was coming up the avenue. It had to pass between Nick and the car that the captain had boarded.

For a moment, Nick would be screened from view from the platform of the down-town car.

He utilized that moment to the best advantage.

He leaped nimbly into the street and succeeded in getting two doors away before the cars had passed each other.

When they had passed, he was standing idly before the door of a “gin-mill” leisurely picking his teeth, as though he had just come out.

Presently he walked down the street, rather rapidly, to be sure, but not fast enough to excite the suspicion that he was following anybody.

Soon a second car overtook him, and he got upon the front platform.

The two cars were less than a block apart, and the detective could see his man easily.

At Fourteenth street the captain turned and abruptly entered the car on which he was riding and passed out upon the front platform.

Here the spasmodic flashing of a match presently denoted that he was lighting a cigar.

Then, with a quick run, Nick left his car and overtook the one in which the captain was a passenger, and going inside, seated himself at the forward end.

“This is more comfortable,” he thought. “It is much less work to watch him from here.”

Block after block was passed, but the captain showed no sign of leaving the car, nor did he, until it reached the end of the route at the Astor House.

Then he stepped off and boarded a south-bound Broadway car, upon which he remained until it reached South Ferry.

There the captain took the Hamilton Ferry boat, landed in Brooklyn, and started away down the street along the water-front.

Nick followed for a mile or more, when suddenly the captain turned and went out upon a pier.

“He will stop and look around when he gets out there,” thought Nick, “so I will wait here.”

He dodged into a deep shadow close to the water’s edge, just where a boat was tied by a rope to a cleat upon the dock.

“The very thing!” thought Nick.

In an instant he had untied the rope and seized one of the oars; the next, he was sculling the little craft rapidly and silently along in the shadow of the pier.

Suddenly the man whom he was following, paused. Then turning, he came to the edge of the pier and looked over, full at Nick.

CHAPTER V.

TRAPPED.

“Hey, there!” said the captain, in a voice loud enough for Nick to hear, and yet with considerable caution.

Nick ceased sculling, but did not reply.

“Do you want to earn a dollar or two?”