The Second Nick Carter MEGAPACK®, page 25
“When the jewels went elsewhere, he was probably on the point of giving you up. I judge that from certain letters of yours in that telegraph cipher which I found in his room.
“Then he wormed his plan for making you rich. He managed the robberies at the house with the aid of John Gilder and one or two of that spiritualistic gang whom he smuggled into the house.
“He did everything to increase his uncle’s delusion. It was he who put Colonel Richmond again in the hands of that medium.”
“I supposed that that affair was all over,” said Mrs. Stevens; “both the colonel and I had disapproved of it.”
“Annie O’Neil,” said Nick, turning to the servant, “a full confession from you is what we now require. It may save you from prison.
“We know that you managed the affair from this end. It was you who put the jewels where they were found, after they had been given you by Horace. It was you—catch her!”
This last exclamation was addressed to Patsy. The girl was wavering as if she would fall.
Before Patsy could reach her she sank sobbing to the floor. She proceeded to pour out an incoherent confession, in which little was clear but the name of Horace Richmond, and the fact that the girl “loved him still.”
“I’ve been waiting for this,” said Horace, with a brutal sneer. “Trust a woman and lose the game. Well, it’s all up. I loved you, Millie, but not enough to marry you without the jewels. So I schemed for the transfer, and I have failed.”
“It was Annie O’Neil whom you followed last night, Patsy,” said Nick. “Who was the men?”
“John Gilder,” gasped the terrified girl.
“And you played ghost?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But how about my shooting?” asked Patsy. “How does Annie O’Neil happen to be alive?”
“Read that from Chick,” said Nick, producing a paper. “He’s made some discoveries in the colonel’s house to-day while we were all away.
“He’s found the ghost. It seems that this girl was inside of a hollow dummy.
“She stood over a trap door. Just as soon as she had shown her face, she dropped the veil, and went through the trap.”
“The dummy still continued to stand there, and you shot at it. Two of your bullets flattened on its steel braces. The rest went through.
“John Gilder flashed the light. When he turned it off, the dummy was hauled down through the trap, and hidden in a place that neither you nor I found, Patsy.”
Colonel Richmond seemed to be in a trance.
“But the mysterious force,” he said, at last. “The injury to yourself and your assistant. How do you explain that?”
“It was done by John Gilder swinging a sand-bag on a string at the end of a pole which he poked through one of those panels.
“It couldn’t be seen in that dim light, and it made a fearful weapon. It’s a wonder that he didn’t knock our heads off.”
“I thought that I heard something whiz,” muttered Patsy.
“And yet I heard her voice this morning,” said the colonel. “She said ‘consent.’”
“No, she didn’t; I said it,” rejoined Nick. “I’m something of a ventriloquist.”
“How was the affair managed at the safe deposit vault?” asked the colonel, after a pause.
“Why, Horace took the clasp out of the box and put it into your pocket. You really saw it, only he made you think afterward that you didn’t.
“After I had searched him he picked your pocket and got the clasp. Then he wrapped it in paper.
“I picked his pocket to make matters even, and substituted my knife similarly wrapped up.
“When we got to this house he gave the knife to Annie O’Neil, who put it on Miss Stevens’ pillow when she went upstairs to call Mrs. Stevens.”
“You have not explained the robberies at my house,” said Colonel Richmond.
“I’ll do that over there. Is the rest of it clear? Has anybody a question to ask?”
Nobody spoke.
“Annie O’Neil,” said Nick, “I’ll leave here in Patsy’s charge. Horace Richmond, come with us.”
Horace looked ugly for a moment, and then he calmed down and sullenly complied with Nick’s order.
Judge Lorrimer begged to be of the party in order to see the explanation of the mysterious robberies of which he had heard.
Two hours later they all stood in Mrs. Pond’s room.
“The essential part of this matter,” said Nick, “was this door which appeared to open and close of itself.
“I saw that at a glance, and made a secret investigation. It is done by electricity.
“There’s a magnet in the casing which is powerful enough to swing the door to, after which the same magnet pushes this little bolt—which looks like an ordinary screw—into position, and that holds the door, but not very steadily.
“You may say that this should have given me the criminal at once, but it didn’t.
“You see, this electro-magnet works whenever a current is turned into the wires. Horace was clever enough to have the wires lead all over the house.
“A connection with the electric light wires, furnishing the current, can be made in almost every room in the house.
“Of course, I suspected Horace at once, because his room was directly overhead. In fact, the two are connected, as you see, by a ventilator in the form of a pipe with a grated opening in each room.
“The grating here, you see, is open.”
“But, bless me,” exclaimed Judge Lorrimer, “no thief could come through such a place. Why, it isn’t six inches square.”
“Step in here a minute and see,” said Nick, and then he called out:
“All ready, Chick!”
The whole party had by this time gone into Mrs. Pond’s sitting-room.
Nick said hush, and pointed to the ventilator. Most of the party could see it through the door.
Instantly there appeared a mass of green feathers, and then Horace Richmond’s parrot fluttered noiselessly down into the room.
For a minute or two it ran around the floor. Then it flew up on to the dressing-table, seized a small gold bar pin in its beak, and flew back into the ventilator pipe.
“A nice trick,” said the detective. “I believe it took you some time to teach the bird that.”
“About a year,” growled Horace. “The bird was well trained before.”
“Is it all clear?” said Nick.
“Perfectly,” said the colonel. “But how did you get at it?”
“Simply enough. There was only one way into this room when those robberies were committed, and the parrot was the only living thing in the house that was small enough to go through that pipe and intelligent enough to do the trick.
“You see, Horace trained the bird to pick up bright objects, and especially articles of the color of gold, and to go up and down that pipe.
“Then he schemed to have your daughter come here. The rest was easy. He waited till she was in the farther room, and then closed the door between by the electrical device.
“Immediately he sent down the parrot. The bird was so well trained that he required only a minute or two to secure something.
“Of course, it was not always something of value. There were probably a dozen failures where the bird brought back nothing or some useless object that glittered.
“I suspected the bird, and so put Chick on that lay. As you see, he has got the creature to work very well.
“Now, colonel, what more can I do for you? What shall be done with the prisoners?”
“Nothing; I will not prosecute.”
“I guess we can hush it up, if you say so,” responded Nick. “By the way, there’s one thing that I want to explain. I mean the strange appearance of that diamond pin in the box on the occasion of Mrs. Stevens’ first visit.
“It was not the real pin, but a duplicate which had been prepared in advance. Horace had put up that game as a finishing touch for his uncle.
“Mrs. Pond had forced Horace to go for me; but he wouldn’t be scared out. He played the game right under my nose.
“Annie O’Neil had the duplicate pin. She opened that box while Mrs. Stevens was calling to her daughter, as she testified, and put the duplicate into it. Then she wrapped it up just as before.”
“So I won’t have to give up the jewels,” said Mrs. Pond.
“I am afraid you will,” said Nick; “the queerest part of the story is to come.
“Chick has found a later will by Miss Lavina Richmond. It is undoubtedly genuine.
“And where do you suppose it was found? The strangest of all places—in Horace Richmond’s room.”
“She died there,” responded the colonel. “She must have hidden the will during her last illness.”
“It is strange to think of Horace Richmond struggling with that parrot, and putting up his elaborate schemes, while the document which would have given him all he wanted was hidden in his own room.”
Horace Richmond’s face at that moment was an amusing spectacle.
So was Mrs. Pond’s.
“Never mind, daughter,” said the colonel. “It is better so. I will make good the loss to you.”
And so ends Nick Carter’s ghost story in a most natural manner.
Nobody was ever punished for the affair. Even the gang of mediums and heelers whom Nick had rounded up were released after their night in jail, because, on sober second thought, their dupes were ashamed to complain against them.
THE MYSTERY OF ST. AGNES’ HOSPITAL
Originally published in 1900
CHAPTER I.
LAWRENCE DEEVER DEMANDS JUSTICE.
“I call it a perfectly plain case, Mr. Colton.”
“A case of what?”
“Why, murder, of course.”
“Who has been murdered?”
As “Mr. Colton”—who was no other than Nick Carter—asked this question, his face looked as innocent as a babe’s. He seemed surprised to hear that there had been a murder, though his companion, Lawrence Deever, had been saying so repeatedly during the last half hour.
Deever now looked at Nick with eyes and mouth wide open.
“Who has been murdered?” he repeated. “My brother has been murdered.”
“What makes you think so?” asked Nick, calmly.
“What, indeed!” exclaimed Deever. “I have told you already.”
“No, you haven’t. You have told me that your brother has been missing since night before last.”
“I told you more than that,” cried Deever. “He is known to have quarreled with that man Jarvis.”
“Dr. Jarvis, of St. Agnes’ Hospital?”
“Of course. And I have proved—”
“You have proved nothing,” said Nick. “Let me repeat your statements:
“Your brother Patrick worked for Dr. Jarvis, or under his direction, in the garden of St. Agnes’ Hospital. The doctor frequently remonstrated with Patrick for drinking too much whisky, and—”
“Remonstrated!” exclaimed Deever. “That’s hardly the word for it. He abused the lad. He struck him half a dozen times during the last week.”
“With the flat of his hand,” said Nick, smiling. “That is hardly the foundation for a charge of murder.”
“It shows that Jarvis is a violent man,” said Deever, “and everybody knows that he is.”
“He has a bad temper, I will admit.”
“He’s a dangerous old crank.”
“Well, to continue your statement of the case, late on Monday afternoon they were heard quarreling in the garden. They were seen there about half-past six o’clock.
“A little after half-past seven the doctor was seen coming toward the hospital. He was greatly excited. He passed Martin Burns, who drives the hospital ambulance.
“Martin went into the garden and failed to find Patrick. Nobody can tell what became of your brother or how he got out of the garden.”
“Yes; that’s the point,” Deever cried. “How did he get out?”
“He may have climbed over the wall.”
“You’ve forgotten that his coat, with a little money in the pocket, was found hanging on the limb of a tree.”
“No, I did not forget that.”
“Well, why did he leave it?”
“I don’t pretend to know.”
“And what has become of him?”
“There, again, I shall have to find out the facts before I answer.”
“I tell you he was murdered.”
“Now,” said Nick, smiling again, “I shall have to turn your own question against yourself: If he was murdered, what’s become of him?”
“You mean where’s his body?”
“Exactly.”
“But do you mean to tell me,” cried Deever, indignantly, “that if this man has hidden my brother’s body so that nobody can find it he will escape punishment for his crime?”
“Nothing of the sort,” Nick replied. “I only wish to curb your impatience.”
“I’m not more impatient than any man in my situation ought to be. I simply demand justice.”
“Or, in other words—”
“I want you to arrest Dr. Jarvis.”
“I can’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“We must have some sort of proof that your brother is dead. We can’t try a man for the murder of somebody who may be alive for all we know.”
“You seem to be working in Jarvis’ interest,” said Deever, with a sneer.
“Not a bit of it. You know why I am here in your house.”
“Because Superintendent Byrnes sent you; and I supposed that he had sent a good man. He promised the best.”
“Well, that ought to satisfy you.”
“There was no need of sending anybody. We might have arrested Jarvis at once. Any ordinary policeman could have got evidence enough to convict.”
“But the superintendent did not think so.”
“No; and I’m willing he should work in his own way, so long as I get justice in the end. Now, what do you want?”
“Well,” said Nick, appearing to consider the subject deeply, “I would like some evidence of a motive.”
“I don’t believe there was any motive. The thing was done in anger.”
“Then I want evidence of a really serious quarrel.”
“Very well; you wait right here, and I’ll bring a man who knows something about it. I heard of him this morning, and had time to ask him a few questions, but I don’t know all he has to tell.”
Deever hastily left the room. From the window Nick saw Deever pass up West One Hundred and Forty-third street, on which the house stood. He was going in the direction of St. Nicholas avenue.
In less than an hour he returned with a young man whom he presented as the important witness for whom he had been in search.
“Your name is Adolf Klein?” said Nick.
The witness nodded. He was a bashful, awkward fellow, who did not seem to be possessed of the average intelligence.
“Where do you work?” was the next question.
“I’m a bartender in Orton’s saloon, up on the avenue.”
“Do you know what has become of Patrick Deever?”
“All I know is this: I was passing the grounds of the hospital Monday evening and stopped just by the wall. The reason I stopped was that I heard Pat Deever inside, talking very loud. He called somebody an old fool and swore at him.”
The witness paused. He seemed to be a good deal excited. It was not very warm in the room, but the perspiration was pouring off of Klein’s forehead.
“Was that all you heard?” asked Nick.
“No; I heard more hard talk, and then a blow was struck. It sounded heavy and dull. Then came more blows. Somebody seemed to be pounding. It sounded as if he was pounding on the ground, and if it hadn’t been for the loud talk just before, I’d have thought that Pat was smoothing down a flower-bed with his spade.”
“Did you hear any talking after the blow?”
“I didn’t hear Pat’s voice again.”
“Did you hear any voice?”
“I heard somebody muttering. The voice sounded like Dr. Jarvis’. I’ve been to the hospital, and I know the doctor.”
“Did you look over the wall?”
“No; it’s too high there. I ran around to the gate on St. Nicholas avenue and tried to see in; but I couldn’t. There were too many trees between me and the garden.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I went home.”
“Did you say anything about what you had heard?”
“Not that night.”
“When did you first speak of it?”
“This morning.”
“To whom?”
“To Mr. Deever. He was in the saloon, and he told me that his brother was missing.”
“Well,” cried Deever, who could keep silence no longer, “what do you think of that?”
“It is important evidence.”
“You remember,” Deever continued, “that when I went to ask Jarvis where my brother was, he admitted having quarreled with him, but said that it ended in words. Now we know that it ended in blows.”
“What time was it when you heard that blow?” asked Nick of Klein.
“Must have been about half-past seven,” Klein replied.
“How do you know?”
“When I walked up the avenue I saw the clock on the church up by One Hundred and Fiftieth street. It was a quarter of eight.”
“That fits the case exactly,” Deever exclaimed. “It was a little after half-past seven when Burns saw Jarvis coming in from the garden.”
“That is true.”
“Will you arrest Jarvis now?”
“I will not,” said Nick. “The evidence is not yet sufficient.”
Deever made an impatient gesture.
“Remember,” said Nick, “that an accusation of murder leaves an indelible stain. We cannot move too carefully.”
“You will let him escape.”
“His escape is utterly impossible,” said Nick. “He is watched.”
“A good many men have been watched and have got away.”
“Nobody ever got away from the man who is watching Jarvis,” said Nick, quietly; and that praise was not too high, for the person in question was Nick’s famous assistant, Chick.
