The Second Nick Carter MEGAPACK®, page 2
“H’m!” he presently grunted. “The picture is quite plain. Two automobiles appear to have met in a lonely woodland road.”
“Precisely.”
“Only part of one of them is visible in the picture,” continued Nick, commenting upon the various details. “The picture was evidently taken by an occupant of one of the cars.”
“Correct.”
“In the road near the other machine stands a very tall woman, closely veiled, who is pointing a revolver, evidently at the occupants of the other car.”
“Exactly.”
“They are not visible in the picture, however, except the extended hand of one of them, obviously the hand of a woman. She is passing a purse, two watches, and what appears to be several pieces of jewelry, to a masked man, who is standing near the woman holding the leveled revolver.”
“Those are the main features of the picture, Nick,” nodded Weston. “Now, what do you make of it?”
Nick glanced up and replied:
“It looks to me like a hold-up.”
“That’s just what it was.”
“When and where?”
“Near the Brookline suburb, about a week ago.”
“Is this the case on which you wish to employ me?”
“One of them.”
“There are others?”
“Fifty, Nick, within the past two months.”
“Whew!” whistled Nick, with brows lifting. “I have read in the newspapers that you have had numerous highway robberies about here, but I did not imagine them to be so frequent as you state.”
“Because only a small part of them have been given publicity,” replied Weston. “I have suppressed many, Nick, in the hope of thereby getting some traceable clue to the crooks.”
“Yet you are all still in the dark?”
“Never more so, Nick,” was the grave rejoinder. “In the past two months there have been, as I have stated, upward of fifty of these highway robberies.”
“Early and often, eh?”
“Decidedly so. These hold-ups have been committed, moreover, with a boldness and daring that invests them with a peculiarly mysterious character. Whether they are the work of two or three professional crooks, or that of a larger organized gang of them, is hard to say. At all events, Nick, we have been absolutely unable to get any traceable clue to the identity, haunts, or headquarters of the rascals.”
“Have two of these hold-ups ever been committed at precisely the same time?”
“Not that have been reported.”
“If that had occurred,” explained Nick, “it would indicate that a considerable gang is at work.”
“Two hold-ups in one evening is the nearest approach to it,” said Weston.
“In the same locality?”
“Within a mile of one another.”
“Were the crooks in an automobile?”
“Yes, in both cases.”
“Then both jobs may have been done by the same persons.”
“I feel quite sure of that, Nick, for the same description of the thieves and their automobile was given me by the victims of both outrages.”
“Do these crooks always work from an automobile?”
“In the majority of the cases reported,” bowed Weston. “Yet at times they have appeared on horseback, and on several occasions afoot. The work, Nick, is that of two or more men and a woman, as nearly as I can judge, and all of them are possessed of extraordinary nerve, boldness, and sagacity. They have committed these crimes at all hours of the day and night, frequently in quite public places, yet they have thus far completely evaded detection and pursuit. They invariably do their rascally job with a decisiveness and despatch that completely awe their victims, who are usually so alarmed—”
“Stop a moment,” said Nick quite abruptly. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, Weston.”
“Very well.”
“If I decide to look into this case, I shall then have some few points already settled, and will need to waste no time in seeking the information myself.”
“Exactly,” nodded the chief. “What do you wish to know?”
“First, about the crooks themselves,” said Nick. “What have you in the way of descriptions of them?”
Chief Weston laughed.
“A variety, Nick, to fit any type of man except a humpback or one dismembered,” he replied.
“The descriptions vary, eh?”
“I should say so.”
“Possibly the robbers use a different disguise for each job.”
“Very likely.”
“Or, as nearly always is the case,” said Nick, “the victims of the robbers were so frightened or excited at the time that they retain only vague and exaggerated impressions of their assailants.”
“Precisely.”
“To illustrate that,” added Nick, “I know of a case of a noted prize-fighter, who was held up and robbed of his watch and money in broad daylight, and within fifty yards of Central Park. He declared that the thief was six feet tall, weighed one hundred and eighty pounds, and was backed by two confederates, whom he could not quite recall. We got the crook next day.”
“Yes?”
“He was under five feet, weighed one hundred and thirty pounds, and did the job entirely alone.”
“Quite a difference!” exclaimed Weston, laughing heartily.
“Rather,” smiled Nick. “As a matter of fact, the prize-fighter was so scared when he saw a revolver thrust under his nose that the crook loomed as big as a house. Probably thinking that such a job would not be attempted single-handed, he afterward got it into his head that he saw the two confederates, and was so thoroughly convinced of the imaginary fact that he really believed it. I could cite numerous similar cases.”
“So could I, Nick.”
“Descriptions are not at all reliable, as you imply, yet they sometimes help one a little.”
“That’s true.”
“In a general way, then, you think there are at least two men and one woman in this gang?”
“The cases reported convince me of that,” bowed Weston. “That picture shows the woman, moreover, though two men are mentioned in the majority of robberies reported.”
“Are the men always masked?”
“No, not always. The woman is invariably veiled, however, and the descriptions of the men indicate a frequent change of disguise.”
“That is to be expected,” said Nick. “Now, about the automobile used by the knaves. Have any attempts been made to follow it or to trace it?”
“Repeated attempts, Nick, all of which have proved futile.”
“Has none of the victims been able to report its registered number?”
“We have had a dozen different numbers reported,” replied Chief Weston; “but investigation showed that all of them were fictitious.”
“Yet the crooks might be located, chief, if the make of the automobile were known,” suggested Nick. “That should have been easily learned by some of these people.”
Chief Weston shook his head.
“That would be true, Nick, providing the scamps always used the same machine,” said he. “Half a score of different automobiles have been reported as having been used by these knaves at the time of the numerous hold-ups.”
“H’m!” grunted Nick, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “Evidently, then, these crooks have considerable money invested in their rascally enterprise.”
“It certainly appears so.”
“How about the horses ridden by them?” Nick next inquired. “Can the owner of none of them be discovered?”
“In the few cases in which persons have been held up by a horseman,” replied Weston, “the highwayman has usually been alone. According to the description given, moreover, he has as many horses as automobiles, for he has appeared on grays, bays, blacks, and sorrels.”
Nick laughed at the glibness with which the last was said.
“It seems a bit odd to me, Weston, that none of your men have been able to get on the track of these desperadoes,” he presently rejoined. “It is not often that a gang of highwaymen can long escape detection and arrest, when at work in and about a city like Boston.”
“They are not ordinary knaves, Nick,” emphatically declared Chief Weston. “If they were, we should have landed them long ago.”
“Where do these robberies usually occur?”
“Generally in some lonely part of a suburban road, though several have taken place in the evening, right in the heart of Brookline, Cambridge, and Newton,” replied Weston. “It is evident that the crooks select their victims from the more wealthy suburbs, presumably with a view to obtaining the more plunder.”
“How do they usually proceed?”
“In various ways, Nick, according to my reports. At times they block the road with their car and hold up the first automobile-party that appears, which, of course, is obliged to stop. Having relieved the travelers of their property, the crooks then forced them to turn their machine about, under the muzzles of leveled revolvers, and depart at full speed. If the frightened victims return in a few moments, as once or twice has been the case, they reach the scene, only to find that the knaves have fled.”
“Naturally,” said Nick smilingly.
“They have adopted, in fact, innumerable methods for holding up an automobile-party,” added Weston, “and they invariably intimidate their quarry and get away with the goods.”
“Of what does their plunder usually consist?” inquired Nick.
“Money and jewelry. They take all that their victims have, and the most of them give up readily rather than take any chances of being shot in cold blood.”
“Have you been able to locate any of the stolen property in the pawn-shops?”
“Not a piece of it.”
“Judging from your reports, Weston, what is the value of the property thus far secured by these highwaymen?”
“Thousands of dollars, Nick. Close upon fifty thousand, at least.”
“Have there been house burglaries about here of late?”
“Very few.”
“It looks, then, as if these knaves were confining themselves to this road work.”
“I think so,” bowed Weston.
Nick glanced again at the photograph, which he still retained in his hand.
“This was one of these hold-ups, was it?” said he.
“Yes.”
“It occurred in Brookline?”
“In a lonely road leading into Brookline,” replied Weston. “The victims were Brookline people, and were robbed of some five hundred dollars’ worth of diamonds and jewelry, including what money they had with them. The victims were two ladies, taking an afternoon ride in a Stanley machine.”
“Did they have a chauffeur?”
“No.”
“How was that?”
“One of the women, Mrs. Badger, is an expert driver, and frequently rides without a chauffeur.”
Nick glanced again at the photograph—little dreaming at that moment, however, how important a clue he then held in his hand.
CHAPTER III.
NICK CARTER HELD UP.
Despite that he then attached no special significance to the photograph, the fact that Nick Carter was of a peculiarly impressionable nature, and that any unusual circumstance quickly stirred his rare detective instinct, appeared in his next question and the abruptness with which it was asked.
“How did it happen, Weston, that this picture of the scene was taken during the robbery?”
“I’ll tell you,” replied the Boston chief.
“One moment,” interposed Nick. “First, tell me something about the victims of the robbery.”
“The Mrs. Badger mentioned,” replied Weston, “is the wife of one Amos G. Badger, a wealthy Boston stock-broker. He owns a fine old place on one of the most desirable outskirts of Brookline, inherited from his father some years ago, and the couple move in the most exclusive circles of the local fashionable society. Badger’s place is on Laurel Road, and covers several acres.”
“Go on,” nodded Nick; “I follow you.”
“Mrs. Badger’s companion that afternoon was her sister,” continued Weston, “a woman locally famous under the name of Madame Victoria.”
“Famous for what?” inquired Nick.
“Well, she claims to be an astrologer, a spiritual medium, and a sort of fortune-teller, I believe,” explained Chief Weston.
“H’m!”
“At all events, Nick, she does a tremendous business, and has a magnificent suite in an office building on Tremont Street, directly opposite the Common. No end of wealthy and fashionable people consult her, either for advice in business or love-affairs—or to get messages alleged to come from dead friends,” added Weston, laughing a bit derisively.
“I don’t take any stock in that stuff,” said Nick bluntly.
“Nor do I, Nick,” was the reply. “Yet the woman is certainly a character, and, if reports are true, has made very many remarkable predictions, and displays a most mysterious faculty for communicating with the unseen world.”
“Bosh!”
“Like you, Nick, I have no faith in any of that rot!” laughed Weston. “Yet I know half a dozen brokers who consult her regularly as to the course of the stock-market, as well as many other business men, all of whom claim to derive great advantages thereby. Her rooms are always occupied by some patron, either male or female, and her fees are very high. So there may be a little more in it, Nick, than you imagine.”
Nick shook his head incredulously.
“Come back to Hecuba,” he growled. “You say that this woman is sister to Badger’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“What is her right name?”
“Victoria Clayton.”
“A euphonious name, at least.”
“Badger’s wife was a Claudia Clayton, and at one time was on the stage,” continued Weston. “She, too, is a remarkably clever and capable woman, an accomplished linguist, a votary of physical culture, an expert tennis and golf-player, and one of the best cross-country riders among the cultured sporting set who lean to such pastimes. Both women, in fact, are over the average, and out of the ordinary.”
“Did Badger marry his wife from the stage?”
“I think not, Nick. She had retired some time before. They have been married about five years, I believe.”
“Come back to the picture,” said Nick. “It must have been taken just as the hold-up occurred.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Were the crooks aware of it?”
“No, indeed.”
“How was the trick pulled off?” demanded Nick curiously. “It’s not often that such a clever dodge is played upon professional crooks.”
“The woman who did it is clever, just as I tell you.”
“Tell me how it happened.”
“I will give you the facts as they were given to me.”
“By whom?”
“By Amos Badger and his wife,” replied Chief Weston. “He notified me by telephone of the robbery, and called here with his wife the next morning to report the details of the hold-up. Two days later, as soon as it could be finished and mounted, Badger brought me the photograph.”
“What about the hold-up?”
“It was committed about a week ago, at three o’clock in the afternoon,” said Weston. “Mrs. Badger and her sister, Madame Victoria, were returning from Canton to Brookline. When in a lonely section of a road that leads through a considerable belt of woods, they rounded a sharp curve and came suddenly upon a large automobile standing at an angle across the road. A man appeared to be fixing some break in the works, and was crouching beside it, while a woman stood near-by in the road, apparently watching him.”
“Were they the only occupants of that car?”
“Yes, as the picture indicates. They were, too, the only persons in sight in either direction.”
“The machine appears to be a Winton.”
“That’s what it was, Nick, for Mrs. Badger noticed it.”
“Go on,” nodded Nick. “What more?”
“Naturally Mrs. Badger slowed down, nearly stopping, for the road was almost completely blocked by the other car,” continued Weston. “Then the veiled woman seen in the picture suddenly stepped forward, leveled a revolver, and commanded Mrs. Badger not to start her auto without permission.”
“H’m!” exclaimed Nick. “That was bold, indeed.”
“At the same moment the man, who was seen to be masked, sprang up and approached the two startled women, and commanded them to hand over their jewelry and money, and to be very lively about it.”
“Which they did?”
“Yes, Nick, for the women naturally were much alarmed. Both hastened to obey, though Madame Victoria did, I believe, undertake to make some argument or protest. She was cut short, however, with a threat that quickly silenced her.”
“I see.”
“She had on the seat of the car, however, a small camera, which she frequently carries, one of her fads being that of securing pretty views, of which she has several large volumes. Looking down, she observed it, and had the presence of mind to conceal it with her hand, at the same time snapping it and luckily catching the picture you have there. I told her it was a clever piece of work, Nick, yet it is much to be regretted that the faces of the crooks were covered. Otherwise, we should possess a clue well worth having.”
“I believe your story,” assented Nick.
“The crooks, having secured their plunder, ordered the women to drive on, which they were very willing to do,” concluded Weston. “They were too frightened to venture back in pursuit of the rascals, but hurried home, to notify me by telephone.”
For some moments Nick had worn a decidedly thoughtful expression, as if he already had some project in his mind. Before the chief had fairly ceased speaking, moreover, Nick said bluntly:
“I’d like to talk with Mrs. Badger.”
“By telephone?” inquired Weston, wondering at the wish.
“No, personally.”
“You may easily do so by going out to Brookline.”
“I’ll go!” exclaimed Nick, abruptly rising. “I suppose I may keep this photograph for a short time?”
“Certainly.”
