The First Nick Carter MEGAPACK®, page 1
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
NICK CARTER AT HEADQUARTERS
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
SCYLLA, THE SEA ROBBER
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
NICK CARTER AND THE MARIXBURG AFFAIR
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
THE PLOT OF THE POISONER;
CHAPTER I.
CHAPTER II.
CHAPTER III.
CHAPTER IV.
CHAPTER V.
CHAPTER VI.
CHAPTER VII.
CHAPTER VIII.
CHAPTER IX.
CHAPTER X.
CHAPTER XI.
CHAPTER XII.
Wildside Press’s MEGAPACK® Ebook Series
COPYRIGHT INFORMATION
The First Nick Carter MEGAPACK® is copyright © 2019 by Wildside Press. All rights reserved.
Published by Wildside Press LLC
wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com
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The MEGAPACK® ebook series name is a trademark of Wildside Press, LLC. All rights reserved.
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Nick Carter at Headquarters originally appeared in New Nick Carter Weekly, October 9, 1897.
Scylla, the Sea Robber originally appeared in New Nick Carter Weekly, November 25, 1905.
Nick Carter and the Marixburg Affair originally appeared in New Nick Carter Weekly, November 4, 1906.
The Plot of the Poisoner originally appeared in New Nick Carter Weekly, November 10, 1906.
A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER
Nick Carter is a fictional character that began as a dime novel private detective in 1886 and has appeared in a variety of formats over more than a century. He first appeared in the story paper New York Weekly (Vol. 41 No. 46, September 18, 1886) in a 13-week serial, The Old Detective’s Pupil; or, The Mysterious Crime of Madison Square.
The character was conceived by Ormond G. Smith, the son of one of the founders of Street & Smith, and realized by John R. Coryell. The character proved popular enough to headline its own magazine, Nick Carter Weekly. The serialized stories in Nick Carter Weekly were also reprinted as stand-alone titles under the New Magnet Library imprint.
By 1915, Nick Carter Weekly had ceased publication and Street & Smith had replaced it with Detective Story Magazine, which focused on a more varied cast of characters. There was a brief attempt at reviving Carter in 1924–27 in Detective Story Magazine, but it was not successful.
In the 1930s, due to the success of The Shadow and Doc Savage, Street & Smith revived Nick Carter in a pulp magazine (called Nick Carter Detective Magazine) that ran from 1933 to 1936. Since the Doc Savage character had basically been given Nick’s background, Nick Carter was now recast as a hard-boiled detective. Novels featuring Carter continued to appear through the 1950s, by which time there was also a popular radio show, Nick Carter, Master Detective, which aired on the Mutual Broadcasting System network from 1943 to 1955.
Our novels in this MEGAPACK® originally appeared in New Nick Carter Weekly between 1897 and 1906.
Enjoy!
—John Betancourt
Publisher, Wildside Press LLC
wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com
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NICK CARTER AT HEADQUARTERS
or, Work on the Inspector’s Scrap Book.
CHAPTER I.
An Intricate Case.
A gentle tap sounded at the door of the inspector’s private office in police headquarters in the city of New York.
“Come!” exclaimed the inspector.
The door opened and a sergeant entered.
“Someone to see you, chief,” announced the sergeant.
“Who?”
“Says his name is Jingle. He’s a countryman.”
“Show him in.”
The sergeant departed; but two minutes later he returned accompanied by an unmistakable specimen of the Connecticut farmer.
“Take a seat, sir,” said the inspector.
Then, as soon as the sergeant had withdrawn, he added:
“Now, what can I do for you?”
“The question is, what can I do for you,” was the reply, in the unmistakable tones of Nick Carter, the great detective.
The inspector’s face changed. He smiled broadly.
“Bless me!” he exclaimed. “Why did you assume a disguise in order to come here, Nick?”
“Oh, I happened to be rigged out when I received your message, so I came along just as I was.”
“Then you are busy now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry that you are not free.”
“Why?”
“Well, I had a matter on hand that I wished you to take in charge. Is this case, upon which you are already engaged, important?”
“It seems to be.”
“What is it?”
“A disappearance. A beautiful girl, just of age, rich, accomplished, about to be married to the man she loved, is missing from Philadelphia.”
“Who engaged you in the matter?”
“The man she was to marry.”
“How long has the young lady been among the missing?”
“About a month.”
“And they have just begun the search?”
“So it seems. I gather from the facts as they were related to me, that not much importance was attached to her disappearance at first. She was or is a girl who was or is singularly independent in her actions, and—well, the young man has finally made up his mind that there has been foul play, and engaged me to find out the truth.”
“Give me the story.”
“It is short. Sara Varney was left an orphan and an heiress at the age of sixteen. At twenty-one she came into full possession of her property, which was partly in real estate and the balance, about $58,000 in cash, in bank.
“She reached her majority six weeks to a day before her disappearance, and had drawn about four thousand dollars from the bank, by checking against her account.
“Since her disappearance three checks, which either bear her signature, or are very expertly forged, have appeared. Each is for fifteen thousand dollars. The first two were paid, and the third, by my advice, was pronounced a forgery and held.
“She disappeared just a week before her prospective wedding day.
“A messenger came to the house where she lived on Chestnut street, soon after dark. She read the message, and ordered her carriage at once.
“She was driven to the Pennsylvania depot. There she told her coachman to return home, and added that she would not be back until the following day, or perhaps even later. She has not been seen since.”
“Looks as though she went away of her own accord, does it not?”
“That was my first idea.”
“And you have since changed your opinion?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Well, I began just as she did.”
“Eh? What do you mean?”
“Why, I started from her house in the same carriage that she used, and was driven to the Pennsylvania depot.”
“But my dear Carter why—”
“One moment. I have found that the best way in which to think out a difficulty is to begin at the beginning and follow the footsteps of the person in
whom I am interested just as far as I can. While I am on what I call ‘certain footing,’ I have a good chance to think.
“I stood in her room, where, with the help of Sara Varney’s friends, I had already made a thorough examination of her effects.
“I discovered, for one thing, that she had not taken her check-book—that is, the one which contained the stubs which represented the four thousand dollars already drawn from the bank.
“I found, in her escritoire, a letter proposing marriage to her. It was signed ‘George Hatfield,’ and was written in unmistakable terms of passion and fervor.
“I also found a letter that she had written in reply, but which she had evidently decided not to send, for it was torn into four parts. I put it together and read it through. I never saw such biting scorn embraced in a few words, as she managed to incorporate in that reply.
“The blotter that she had used was also in the writing desk, and by subjecting it to a very powerful magnifying glass I found not only the greater part of the letter I had already perused, but a sentence like this: ‘Mr. George Hatfield: The proposal made by you is peremptorily declined with scorn. Sara Varney.’ To the point, wasn’t it?”
“I should say so.”
“I asked Grayling—”
“Who is he?”
“The man to whom she was engaged, Arthur Grayling. I asked him if he knew Hatfield. He replied that he had heard of him, but had never seen him.
“Then, to be consecutive in my account, I ordered the carriage. When it came to the door I entered it, and was driven to the station. On the way I began to think, of course.
“The first thing that occurred to me was that I would like to know what was contained in the message that called her away from home so suddenly.
“Women are proverbially careless with their letters. It occurred to me that she might have lost that particular one in the carriage.
“I found two tiny scraps that had been crowded down between the cushions, and each one bore a part of a word. On one I found the letters ‘Ar—’ and on the other ‘rk.’”
“Not much clew in that.”
“Considerable, I thought.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, ‘Ar—’ are the first two letters of the name Arthur, and ‘rk’ are the last two letters of New York.
“The date of Sara Varney’s reply to George Hatfield’s proposal was two days before her disappearance.”
“Well, what had that to do with—”
“Excuse me. I returned at once to the house and found Grayling still there.
“‘Mr. Grayling,’ I said, ‘where were you at the very hour when Miss Varney was last seen?’
“‘In New York,’ he replied.
“I had expected the answer, and without questioning him farther I set about reading the character of George Hatfield.”
“But—”
“My dear inspector, Hatfield wrote a letter asking for Miss Varney’s hand in marriage; she declined with scorn; that was two days before she received a message which was the cause of her disappearance. Grayling, whom she loved, was in New York; he sent her no message at that time. Sara Varney drove to the depot just in time to catch an express train for New York. Since Grayling sent her no message, who did? Without knowing anything whatever concerning Hatfield, let us suppose him to be a villain. He knew that Sara loved Grayling; he knew that Grayling was in New York; he had received a note which made him furious; he acted upon impulse, perhaps, and sent word to Sara that Grayling had met with an accident; he asked her to come at once, and she started without a word. He, or someone who represented him, met her in Jersey City, and she was seen no more.”
“Quite a romance, Nick.”
“Wait. I thought this all out while in the carriage; believed that the theory was good, if Hatfield’s character upheld it.”
“And you find—”
“Nothing to make me think that he is incapable of such a crime, and I must confess, nothing to convince me that he would commit it. Since that time I have made Hatfield’s acquaintance, and I have found out nothing. There are a good many smaller details, such as tracing the checks, etc., but as the case stands, I believe that Sara Varney came to New York, and that Hatfield knows what became of her. Now, we will return to this subject later, if you like, but I would, in the meantime, be glad to hear why you sent for me. Perhaps, between Chick and me, we can manage both cases.”
“This of mine is entirely different.”
“What is it?”
“A number of yachts have lately been robbed by river-pirates, and I want you to run them down and break up the gang. The finishings, the pictures, plate, and in short, everything transportable, have disappeared, and there is no doubt in my mind that it is all the work of the same gang.”
CHAPTER II.
Folio XI—G.
“H’m! Tell me about the case which you have principally in mind.”
“Are you acquainted with Jasper Gregory?”
“I know who he is.”
“He owns the schooner yacht Twilight. She is a beauty. She cost Mr. Gregory over a hundred thousand dollars all told.
“About a week ago the river pirates got at her.
“They took away everything of value that they could find; in fact, about fifteen thousand dollars will be required to replace what was stolen.”
“So much?”
“Yes. Gregory does not mind the loss of all that so much as he does the disappearance of a small steel casket, which was in one of the cabin lockers.”
“A small steel casket?”
“Yes, and of chilled steel at that. Gregory says the robbers cannot break it open with anything short of dynamite. As soon as he discovered the loss he advertised in the Herald, offering five thousand dollars for the return of the casket and no questions asked.”
“And received no reply?”
“On the contrary, he did.”
“Ah! What was it?”
“The writer said that the casket would be returned to the owner if he would pay the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars for it; that he would wait fifteen days for a reply, and that at the end of that time if Gregory did not agree, the casket would be sunk in the middle of the East river.”
“How was Gregory to reply?”
“In a curious manner. He was simply to wear a blue ribbon in his buttonhole.”
“Has Gregory taken any notice of the letter?”
“No.”
“How many days have elapsed? I mean, when did he receive the letter?”
“It will be one week to-morrow.”
“And then he came to you?”
“Yes. He came yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“That he would give ten thousand dollars to the man who would return that casket to him.”
“It can be done, inspector.”
“Will you do it?”
“I will take charge of the case and give it as much personal attention as I can.”
“Very good; that will be satisfactory.”
“Did Gregory say what the casket contained?”
“He said the contents could make no difference in the search for the casket itself, and would form no clew to the matter, and added: ‘I am not ready yet to say just what my little strong box did contain. If the knowledge becomes necessary, we will make use of it.’ Rather odd, that.”
“Yes. Gregory is a queer fish, but a very good fellow.”
“He is rich?”
“Very. A million or two.”
“He described the casket?”
“He did better, for I have a photograph of it.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. He thought that some such necessity as this one might arise, and he had the casket photographed a year or two ago.”
“Did you ask him how long the casket had been in his possession?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Five years.”
Nick was silent a moment.
“Inspector,” he said, presently, “how long have you known Gregory?”
“Several years.”
“Has he always lived in New York?”
“No, I believe not.”
“When did he come here?”
“A few years ago.”
“Then his record must be in this office.”
“True.”
“Let us glance at it.”
“Certainly; though why—”
“Simple curiosity. I like to know for whom I am working. Byrnes, when he was inspector, was very particular to take the pedigree of everybody who interested him. His system of notes was the most perfect I ever saw.”
