Nicholas Carter did not return to the Waldmere Chambers after his
interview with Frank Paulding. It was not entirely due to his intuitive
perception, or to any evidence definitely involving another, that had
caused him to feel that Paulding had played no part in the killing of
Gaston Todd, and that he might be possibly the victim of a carefully
planned conspiracy.
It was due in part to what Chief Gleason had told him earlier that
morning, when they were discussing the business that had brought him
secretly to Madison with his two most reliable assistants.
Nick saw nothing to be gained by returning to the Waldmere Chambers,
and he hastened to the Wilton House, instead, going at once to the
suite assigned him, where Chick and Patsy then were waiting for him.
“Well, there must be something doing, indeed,” Chick exclaimed, gazing
at him when he entered. “Has it taken Gleason the entire morning to
tell you why we are needed in Madison?”
“No, not quite,” Carter replied, taking a chair. “There is more doing
than what Gleason confided to me, Chick, and I think there may be some
connection between them. Unless I am very much mistaken, there was a
deucedly singular murder committed about an hour ago.”
“The devil you say!” Chick returned. “Have you been looking into it?”
“Superficially.”
“Tell us, chief,” said Patsy, with immediate interest. “Why singular?”
“I will do so presently,” Nick replied. “I first will tell you why
Chief Gleason sent for me. It’s a rather remarkable story.”
“A mysterious crime, chief?”
“Quite a number of them, Patsy.”
“Gee whiz! We are booked for some hard work, then, if the local police
cannot handle them.”
“Crimes of what kind, chief?” Chick inquired.
“The first was committed several months ago,” said Carter, disposing
of the match with which he had been lighting a cigar. “It was the
robbery of a prominent local banker, named Wagner, whose statements are
entirely reliable.”
“What were the circumstances?”
“Briefly stated, he was going home from his club about nine o’clock one
evening, after having dined there with a friend. He is a well-built,
powerful man of forty, about the last whom a holdup man would venture
to tackle. He wore some valuable jewelry, however, and he had nearly a
thousand dollars in his pocket, which he wanted to use before banking
hours the following morning.”
“The crook may have known about it.”
“Possibly, though Wagner doesn’t think so.”
“Where was the crime committed?”
“In the grounds of his own house, a fine residence in Garside Avenue.
He was sauntering up a gravel walk leading to his front door, when a
man came down from the veranda and approached to meet him. Wagner did
not recognize him, but he naturally inferred that the stranger had
called to see him, and, not finding him at home, that he was about
departing.”
“Certainly,” Chick nodded. “That was perfectly natural.”
“What followed was quite the contrary,” Carter remarked dryly. “The
stranger stopped directly in front of him and asked whether he was
Mr. Wagner. He had an unlighted cigar in his mouth, or so Wagner has
stated. The latter replied in the affirmative, of course, and asked
what was wanted.”
“And then, chief?” queried Patsy.
“Then came the one singular feature of the case,” said the detective.
“Wagner felt a sensation as if a breath of air had hit his face.
He doesn’t know where it came from, nor can he explain it, for the
stranger still had the cigar between his lips and his mouth was closed.
Be that as it may, Wagner instantly felt very numb and confused, and in
another moment he lost consciousness.”
“Fainted away?”
“Not quite that, Patsy.”
“Great guns! What was he up against, chief?”
“That’s the question,” said Nick. “He was seen on the gravel walk a
little later by a passing policeman, who hastened to aid him. Wagner
still was unconscious, dead to the world, as he afterward expressed it
when revived by a physician. He had been robbed of his money and all of
his jewelry, and the thief had disappeared, leaving absolutely no clew
to his identity.”
“He has not been traced, nor any of the jewelry?”
“Neither.”
“Is any one suspected?”
“No.” Nick shook his head. “There have been numerous other robberies of
a like character, and under similar circumstances, but in no case has
any of the stolen property been recovered, nor a clew to the criminal
been found. The police have been at work for months on more than a
score of such cases.”
“By Jove! that’s very peculiar,” Chick said thoughtfully. “Is the
description of the crook the same in all cases?”
“Far from it,” Carter replied. “They vary materially.”
“There must be a gang at work, then.”
“It appears so.”
“Did the victim in each case experience the same sensations as those
described by Wagner?”
“Very similar, though the circumstances were not always the same.
All agree, however, that they suddenly became unconscious from an
unknown cause, while talking with a person who had accosted them on
one pretense or another. One stock broker was robbed in that way
while alone in his business office. The police are all at sea, and
the community is on nettles as to who will be the next victim of the
mysterious and elusive plunderers. That’s why Gleason sent secretly for
me to aid him.”
“How do you size it up, chief?” Patsy inquired. “What do you make of
it?”
“Well, take the case of Wagner,” Carter replied. “He is very much
mystified by the breath of air he felt on his face. His assailant’s
lips were closed around a cigar, and Wagner is sure he could not have
exhaled the breath he suddenly felt.”
“Surely not, chief, in that case,” said Patsy.
“Don’t be so sure of it,” Carter returned. “When a man confronts
another and has a full-length cigar between his teeth, the outer end of
it may be very near the other’s face.”
“That’s true, chief, but what of it?”
“Suppose it was not a cigar, but made to closely resemble one?”
“Gee whiz! I get you,” cried Patsy. “You mean a tube through which
one’s breath might be blown.”
“I mean a tube, Patsy, which contained something that may have been
forced outward by the man’s breath, and so directed that Wagner must
have inhaled it,” Carter explained.
“I see.”
“Just what it was, being powerful enough to immediately overcome him,
and how the tube was constructed so that the user would not be affected
by its contents when ejecting it, are open questions.”
“Do you really think that is how it was done?” Chick inquired, a bit
incredulous.
“I certainly do,” nodded the detective.
“Had Gleason thought of that device, or any of the police?”
“No, nor did I inform him,” said Carter, smiling significantly.
“Since we are about to investigate these mysterious cases, which I
have decided to do, we may derive an advantage by not disclosing our
suspicions.”
“Certainly,” Chick agreed. “That’s good judgment. It may be, chief,
that the crook has discovered an odorless and very powerful narcotic
gas; also various methods by which he can craftily and quickly
administer it.”
“Something of that nature, Chick, which also indicates that he is a man
of education, with a knowledge of drugs and mechanics,” Carter pointed
out. “All this is what leads me to think there may be some connection
between these numerous strange robberies and the mysterious killing
of Gaston Todd this noon, if an autopsy shows positively that he was
murdered.”
“That’s the case you mentioned?”
“Yes. I now will tell you about it.”
The detective proceeded to do so, covering all of the essential points,
both during his observations in the Waldmere Chambers and his call upon
Frank Paulding.
“By Jove! this case does have a striking likeness to the others,” Chick
declared, after listening attentively. “It may be a murder case, as you
suspect.”
“The similarity first led me to suspect it.”
“Naturally.”
“There are three other cases, too, about which Gleason told me, that
are fully as peculiar,” Carter added, knocking the ashes from his cigar.
“What are they, chief?” questioned Patsy.
“They involve three girls, or, more properly, young women, for all are
about twenty,” said the detective. “All were found unconscious in the
grounds of the local hospital.”
“At the same time?”
“No. There was an interval of several days between them.”
“Found when?”
“About midnight.”
“Had they been robbed?”
“No. There was no robbery in either case, nor has it been learned
that an outrage of any kind was attempted,” Nick explained. “Each of
the girls was first taken to the police headquarters, I understand,
and afterward sent to the hospital, where one of the physicians soon
succeeded in reviving her. She then was allowed to depart, after
stating that she could not account for her strange condition, nor
remember anything that had befallen her.”
“By gracious, that is peculiar, chief, for fair,” declared Patsy,
gazing perplexedly.
“More strange, perhaps, and somewhat significant, is the fact that not
one of these girls could afterward be found by the police, when they
tumbled to a possibility that the three cases might have some relation
to the many mysterious robberies.”
“Their names are not known?”
“So Gleason states. It appears that they were not learned by the
hospital authorities.”
“The whole business does seem strange, indeed,” Chick said more
gravely. “It looks as if we were up against a very curious and
complicated mess.”
“And crooks of extraordinary craft and cunning,” put in Patsy earnestly.
“I agree with both of you,” said Nick, glancing at his watch. “Come, we
are due for a late lunch. I will make further inquiries this afternoon,
and then--well, I will have decided by evening how we can begin our
work. The autopsy to-morrow may show us the way.”