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A CIGARETTE CLEW;
A CIGARETTE CLEW;
OR, “SALTED” FOR A MILLION BY NICHOLAS CARTER AUTHOR OF “In the Gloom of Night,” “The Ruby Pin,” “A Scientific Forger,” “Trapped in His Own Net,” “A Mysterious Graft,” etc. NEW YORK STREET & SMITH, Publishers 238 William Street Copyright, 1905 By STREET & SMITH A Cigarette Clew...
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CHAPTER I. WANTED: TWO MEN.
CHAPTER I. WANTED: TWO MEN.
“Well, Chick, it’s good to strike little old New York again.” Nick Carter jumped down from the railroad car and shook himself like a huge dog as his feet touched the stone flagging of the Grand Central Station. “You’re not more glad to see New York than New York is to see you,” piped a shrill voice, and Patsy, Nick’s younger assistant, darted forward to greet his chief and Chick, who were elbowing their way through the crowd on the arrival platform. The great detective had been out West on a puz
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CHAPTER II. TO THE CREDIT OF THE CATBOAT.
CHAPTER II. TO THE CREDIT OF THE CATBOAT.
“The moment I struck the cool water it brought all my senses back with a rush. “I kept myself afloat, and was picked up by two young men in a catboat. These young men were members of a fishing club that had a boathouse on the Sound, and were out for an all-night sail. “They were close at hand when the steamer passed, and I was hurled into the water.” “I see. You do not want your uncle to invest your money in the mine, and he is determined to do it.” “That’s it. Yasmar is a glib talker, and uncle
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CHAPTER III. A FAMILIAR FACE.
CHAPTER III. A FAMILIAR FACE.
“Bring him up,” said Nick, to the servant. When the servant had gone, the detective opened the door of an adjoining apartment. “You will have to step in here for a few minutes, Mr. Lansing,” said he. “Your man Yasmar has come to see me.” “Yasmar!” exclaimed Lansing. “Yes. Step in, quick. Be quiet, and do not come back until I open the door.” “But what can he want?” murmured the astounded youth, passing into the other room. “I shall find out very soon.” Nick closed the door, and was seated at his
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CHAPTER IV. THE ROLL-TOP DESK.
CHAPTER IV. THE ROLL-TOP DESK.
On leaving Nick Carter’s house, Yasmar walked rapidly off down the street. At the first corner he passed a typical East Side tough, leaning against a lamp-post, rolling a huge cigar between his teeth. Stepping out into the street, Yasmar hailed an open electric car. As he got aboard, well forward, the tough jumped on the rear and took one of the seats reserved for smokers. At Canal Street the Western man changed to a cross-town car, getting off again at Vestry Street. He had not looked behind hi
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CHAPTER V. BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY.
CHAPTER V. BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY.
The door was unlocked, opened, and the men came in. From the footfalls alone, Patsy’s keen ear could tell that there were three men instead of two. “We were up here waiting for you, Gillman,” said a voice. “If I had come any sooner, I’d have missed that highball,” answered a second voice. “When you turn the key, Ramsay,” observed a third voice, “don’t neglect to hang that slouch of yours over the knob.” The wearer of the slouch hat was the man Patsy was shadowing, so he had learned the fellow’s
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CHAPTER VI. A SMOOTH GAME.
CHAPTER VI. A SMOOTH GAME.
On Wednesday afternoon a prosperous-looking gentleman, of apparently about fifty years of age, entered the private offices of Cruse & Cupell, on Twenty-Third Street. “Mr. Cruse?” he asked, halting at a desk. “Mr. Cruse is out,” answered a man at the desk. “I’m Mr. Cupell.” “My card.” The caller handed over a bit of pasteboard bearing the name, “Mr. Jefferson Jones.” “I’m from Albany,” went on Mr. Jones, “and I have run down to be present at the assay of the Royal Ophir ore.” “Ah,” murmur
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CHAPTER VII. SHIFTING THE RESPONSIBILITY.
CHAPTER VII. SHIFTING THE RESPONSIBILITY.
“There’s a five-foot vein of that rock!” declared Bates, “and it’s a true fissure—which means that it will ‘go down’ and get better with every foot.” “I wonder if I could get a little of that good thing?” Nick inquired. “No, sir, never!” cried Montgomery. “We want it all for ourselves,” said one of the Boston men. “Sure thing,” averred the other. “We’ll close the deal to-morrow at ten o’clock, at my house,” said Montgomery. “You’ll be there, gentlemen?” “Certainly we will,” answered the first Bo
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CHAPTER VIII. BOUCICAULT’S.
CHAPTER VIII. BOUCICAULT’S.
At certain times Nick Carter had intuitions that amounted almost to positive knowledge. It was the “detective instinct,” amplified by years of intelligent practice. In the present instance he believed that he would be shadowed, and he even figured out to himself the successive links in the chain that brought the conclusion. Gillman had suspected him and had conveyed his suspicions to the man in the brown derby at the same time that he had reported the result of the assay. It was this man in the
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CHAPTER IX. THE DEATH CHAMBER.
CHAPTER IX. THE DEATH CHAMBER.
Nick opened his eyes in darkness. Not a ray of light could be seen at any point in the surrounding gloom, and a silence as of the grave reigned all around. Under him was a hard stone floor, and from the dank, moldy smell of the place he thought he must be in a cellar—presumably the basement under Boucicault’s. His head was throbbing painfully, and he was lying on his bound arms and wrists. His ankles were also bound. “Well, here’s a go!” he exclaimed, aloud. The words echoed hollowly through the
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CHAPTER X. BREAKING THE NEWS.
CHAPTER X. BREAKING THE NEWS.
Patsy had arrived right in the nick of time. He had not tried to get to the saloon before ten o’clock, and he showed up there in the guise of a Swede sailor, “three sheets in the wind.” Ramsay was not there, and neither was Gillman, nor Starlick—the man in the brown derby hat. Patsy, of course, knew only Ramsay by sight, but he felt sure that he could recognize the others by their voices. Failing to find all or either of the three, he caught a low-pitched conversation coming from two longshoreme
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CHAPTER XI. THE CIGARETTE MACHINE.
CHAPTER XI. THE CIGARETTE MACHINE.
Nick was about to speak on, but his eye caught a flash of something among the papers on the desk. He picked up the object and found that it was a small, nickel-plated instrument used in manufacturing cigarettes. “To whom does this belong?” he inquired. “To uncle Horace. Do you know what it is, Mr. Jones?” Nick ignored the question. “How long has your uncle had it?” “I do not know. I only remember seeing it here during the last two or three days.” “You would have seen it if it had been here befor
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CHAPTER XII. Montgomery at Bay.
CHAPTER XII. Montgomery at Bay.
“Meet me at the corner, Chick,” said Nick, as he passed the man who was working on the street. Nick waited, just around the corner on Sixth Avenue, and Chick came, stripped of his white overalls, blouse and hat and wearing his own garments. He had traded with the regular street cleaner, for the time being, and the street cleaner was five dollars better off by the deal. “Did you observe closely the two men who called at the house while I was there?” Nick asked. “Yes. They drove up in a two-wheele
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CHAPTER XIII. A NECESSARY CRUELTY.
CHAPTER XIII. A NECESSARY CRUELTY.
Nick was on his feet in front of the cowering man, pointing one finger at him. Montgomery merely writhed in his seat, but did not say a word. “But that is not the worst,” went on the detective, mercilessly. “You know that your nephew, John Lansing, started for Boston on Monday night, by the Fall River boat.” Nick drew back to the library table and picked up a book that lay there. “You told Yasmar—or Ramsay, to give him his real name—that John Lansing was going to Boston to talk with Cooper and B
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CHAPTER XIV. AT THE OBELISK.
CHAPTER XIV. AT THE OBELISK.
At eight-thirty sharp a “four-wheeler” dashed up the east drive of Central Park and came to a halt opposite the Egyptian relic known as the Obelisk, otherwise “Cleopatra’s Needle.” Three men got out of the carriage. An electric light faintly illuminated that particular spot, and the forms looked dark and indistinct. But their general outlines were plain enough. Three more men sat on a park bench hard by the Obelisk. One of them was tall and wore a slouch hat. “Here they come,” he said, in a low
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CHAPTER XV. THE TENDER-HEARTED WATCHMAN.
CHAPTER XV. THE TENDER-HEARTED WATCHMAN.
Nick’s return to town had not been quite as peaceful as he had hoped. But he was more than satisfied with the result of the work of the last few days. He had captured one of the men who had escaped him in the round-up of the big Western swindle. Only one other member of that gang was now at large, and the capture of Ramsay served to make Nick all the more eager to repeat the operation with the missing swindler. Ramsay was questioned as to the whereabouts of this man, but he was not able to tell
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CHAPTER XVI. THE CASHIER’S ANNOUNCEMENT.
CHAPTER XVI. THE CASHIER’S ANNOUNCEMENT.
Spark handed the bag to Clancy, and the latter poured some of the nitroglycerin into the cup. Then, crouching under one of the counters, they waited while the explosive oozed downward about the vault door on the inside. “Give me the fuse,” said Clancy, emerging from under the counter when a sufficient period had elapsed. Again he mounted the stool, fitted a cap to the end of the fuse, placed the cap in the cup and applied a match. Both retreated for a short distance. Presently there came a muffl
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CHAPTER XVII. “OLD HANDS.”
CHAPTER XVII. “OLD HANDS.”
The bank robbery took place during the night of Monday and Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, at seven o’clock, a neatly dressed man, wearing a pair of very respectable “Dundrearies,” made his appearance at the Memorial Hospital, in Latimer. “What can I do for you, sir?” inquired the assistant superintendent, who was in charge at that early hour. “Albert Gardner, the watchman who was shot during the bank robbery, was brought here, was he not?” “Yes.” “I would like to speak with him a moment.” “I am
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CHAPTER XVIII. A MYSTERIOUS BULLET.
CHAPTER XVIII. A MYSTERIOUS BULLET.
It was ten o’clock when Nick Carter walked into the People’s National Bank, halted at the cashier’s window, and asked for Mr. Hepner. The cashier knew all the customers of the institution, and the sight of a strange face prompted him to put a question on a matter that was uppermost in his mind: “Are you Mr.——” “Yes,” interrupted the detective. “I am Mr. Nicholas, the man you are looking for.” The cashier gave a start and looked at Nick blankly for a moment. Then his face cleared. “Ah, yes,” he s
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CHAPTER XIX. WARM WORK.
CHAPTER XIX. WARM WORK.
“Great guns!” exclaimed the chief. “What has happened, Mr.——” “Call me Nicholas,” hissed Nick, clinging to the chief and with lips close to his ear. “I’m shot!” he cried again. “Some one fired into the telephone box from the court. Help me to my room! Send for a doctor—quick!” There was a great commotion in the hotel office. The clerk, the porters and the bell boys came running to the scene, inquiring excitedly about the shooting. The chief turned Nick over to two of the porters, and he was carr
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CHAPTER XX. THE MEN FROM CHICAGO.
CHAPTER XX. THE MEN FROM CHICAGO.
Presently the bell boy came up and found Nick stretched out on the bed. The boy was a quiet little chap, and brought Nick a pitcher of water and a daily paper, and did a number of other things to make him comfortable. The detective was reading the paper when the plain-clothes man presented himself. “I was sent over here to take care of you,” said he. He accompanied his words with a wink by way of informing the detective that he knew what was expected of him. “Thank you,” said Nick. “What name?”
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CHAPTER XXI. NICK BECOMES CHAUFFEUR.
CHAPTER XXI. NICK BECOMES CHAUFFEUR.
“Don’t shoot!” pleaded the detective, cringing before the pointed gun; “for Heaven’s sake, don’t shoot!” “What do you mean by sneaking into this room?” demanded the man, making a threatening gesture with the revolver. Nick thought he recognized the voice. It sounded strangely like the tone assumed by the man from Montana, through the phone. “My wife and family are starving,” said Nick, in a choking voice; “I can get no work, and they must live.” “Bah! What do I care for your wife and family? You
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CHAPTER XXII. FOLLOWING A THEORY.
CHAPTER XXII. FOLLOWING A THEORY.
Nick looked the machine over with a critical eye. It was an ordinary, two-thousand-dollar, single-cylinder, American-made car, and looked as though it might be able to work up considerable speed. It was painted red, and had the squat, sprawled-out appearance of the ill-omened thing after which it was named. Nick Carter could drive any kind of a car, and so could Chick. The detectives had acquired the knowledge as they acquired everything else which even remotely promised to be of aid to them in
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CHAPTER XXIII. OVER THE BRIDGE.
CHAPTER XXIII. OVER THE BRIDGE.
Each man in the touring party carried a large satchel, and Nick noticed that he took very good care of the grip, never letting it get out of his hands for an instant. The satchels appeared to be rather heavy, and once, when one of them dropped to the bottom of the auto, the detective heard a jingle as of coin. The morning was bright, the air was fresh, and for five miles the Red Spider cut along at a smart clip. “Show me how to operate the thing,” said Martin, and Nick instructed him in the art.
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CHAPTER XXIV. ONE WAY TO STOP AN AUTO.
CHAPTER XXIV. ONE WAY TO STOP AN AUTO.
Nick’s cry for help and his reference to the river were intended for the ears of Chick and Patsy. If they failed him, Nick felt that his case was hopeless. The stream into which he was thrown was narrow and winding, and, at that point, flowed with great force. The swiftness of the current bore the detective up and kept him from sinking. The men in the Red Spider watched until he was carried around a bend in the stream, and then continued on, confident that they had been completely successful in
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CHAPTER XXV. PATSY’S CAPTURE.
CHAPTER XXV. PATSY’S CAPTURE.
“We’ll be on them in a minute,” said Nick. “Got an extra pair of handcuffs, Patsy?” “Sure!” and Patsy dove into his pocket and brought out a pair of bracelets. “I was pretty well stripped by Clancy and his gang before they threw me in the river,” went on Nick. “We’ll get your property back in short order, Nick,” said Chick. “We’ll have a fight first. By George! they’re jumping from the automobile and taking to the woods!” “They’re going to make a run of it, the cowards!” exclaimed Patsy. “You ta
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CHAPTER XXVI. HOW CHICK GOT HIS MAN.
CHAPTER XXVI. HOW CHICK GOT HIS MAN.
Spark was not so good a runner as Cricket, and Chick would have made a capture much quicker than Patsy had done, had his man not doubled back to the road, and, fortunately for him, encountered a young woman in a gingham dress and sunbonnet, driving home from town. “Stop!” cried Spark. “Take me in—I want to ride with you!” “Not much you don’t!” returned the young woman, with a toss of her head. “I can pick my own comp’ny, thanks!” “Will you stop?” Spark displayed a revolver. That was too much for
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CHAPTER XXVII. THE LAST OF THE SWINDLERS.
CHAPTER XXVII. THE LAST OF THE SWINDLERS.
Clancy had fought every step of the way through the woods to the blacksmith shop. Every convenient tree trunk, every rise of ground, and every rock which he encountered in the course of his retreat was taken advantage of and used as a temporary breastwork. The fact that no serious injuries resulted from the shooting proves how wary the men were. Nick emptied his repeater at about the identical time Clancy emptied his revolvers. Clancy saw this, and gave vent to a mocking laugh. “It’s anybody’s f
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