IN AN OPERA BOX.
“Well, Chick?”
“Nothing, Nick.”
“You have been ten days on the trail of Carleton Lynne, now.”
“Yes; and for the last five of them he has been in possession of the
fortune he came here to get. It seems to me that it was given up to him
mighty easily.”
“That was in accordance with my advice, Chick.”
“It was? Why?”
“Because I drew the inference that the possession of the millions would
throw him off his guard; and the woman, also.”
“I haven’t seen any effort on the part of the Babbington woman to make
his acquaintance as yet,” said Chick.
“They are playing warily, that is all,” said the detective.
“You are still of the same opinion in regard to them?”
“More than ever so.”
“You have been watching the McQueen woman yourself, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Discover anything?”
“Not a thing.”
“And that Miss Hunt? I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in so long
a time that all is news to me, now.”
“I have not been able to locate her yet.”
“Is there any news from Patsy?”
“Three telegrams, each one the same, containing the word, ‘Progress.’”
“That means that he is on the trail of something.”
“Yes.”
“You say that you left Lynne at the opera to-night, Chick?”
“Yes. He is occupying the old Lynne box. It’s ‘Ernani’ to-night.”
“Who is there with him?”
“He is alone.”
“What? Alone in the box?”
“Quite. He has seemed to avoid making acquaintances. I concluded that he
was safe there for a time. That is why I came around here to the house
to see you, Nick.”
“I’ll go back with you, I think. If he is still alone in the box, I’ll
call upon him.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“Have you seen anything of Madge?”
“Not a sign of her. I think she must have left the city.”
“Not a bit of it, Chick. Don’t get that idea into your head.”
“Well, if there was anything doing, don’t you think they would have got
busy before now?”
“Not necessarily. The stake is a big one.”
“I know; but still----”
“They can afford to play a waiting game where the prize is so large. If
the two are working together, it is easy enough now for him to supply
her with money, and they can afford to stand back and wait until every
breath of suspicion is gone.”
“I know; but there is another thing, Nick.”
“What is that?”
“Carleton Lynne has got all that money now. He doesn’t have to share any
part of it with Madge Babbington. He can snap his fingers at her,
and----”
“I see that you do not half know Madge Babbington, Chick.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if he undertook to snap his fingers at her, as you express it--if
he refused to keep to any compact he may have made with her, she would
pull him down into the dust, even if she crushed herself in doing it.”
“All the same, Nick, that chap strikes me as being a pretty cold
proposition. I don’t believe you could scare him with a dynamite
cartridge under his bed.”
“I’ll admit all that; but even he would think twice before he went too
far in giving offense to the Babbington woman.”
They had left the house while they were talking, and walked through to
Broadway, where they now boarded an uptown car, and, as there were only
a few blocks to ride, they presently descended in front of the
Metropolitan Opera House, and entered.
“You may go where you please, now, Chick,” said the detective, as soon
as they had passed inside. “Take up your task of trailing the man
again, and don’t let up a little bit. I am convinced that something will
come of it after a while.”
“Possibly,” replied Chick, with a shrug of his shoulders.
“And,” the detective went on, “I am not at all sorry for this delay in
the perfection of their plans, if there are any plans. It gives Patsy
time to finish his detail in the West; and I have a feeling that we will
know a lot more about this affair when he returns from that trip.”
“I’m sure I hope so. Where are you going now?”
“Directly to that box.”
“Without first ascertaining if he is still alone in it?” asked Chick in
surprise.
“Certainly.”
“He may not be there at all now. He may have gone to another box,
and----”
But the detective was moving rapidly away, and Chick came to a stop,
after which he turned about to seek a place from which he could again
obtain a view of the Lynne box.
When he did find such a point of vantage he was rather surprised to
discover that the box in question was empty--that Carleton Lynne was not
there--and he began to turn his glance from box to box along the tier in
search of him.
He discovered the man at last, in a box much nearer to the proscenium;
and he saw that Lynne was chatting in an animated manner with a group of
ladies and gentlemen who were occupying it.
He looked again, more closely, to discover who Lynne’s companions were,
but decided that he did not recognize any of them; and then he gave a
decided start of surprise, for one of the women who had been in the
background moved forward, and he instantly recognized Madge Babbington
in that woman.
As he made the discovery, Lynne turned to address some remark to her, to
which she replied, and evidently made some further remark in return, for
he arose, and Chick saw them leave the box together.
For a moment he was in doubt what to do, and then he remembered two
things: One was that Nick Carter was somewhere up there near them, and
the other was that neither of them had their street apparel with them.
Hence they could not be leaving the opera house.
So he stood where he was, watching, and awaiting their return.
“Something is about to develop at last,” was his thought, for the ten
days he had passed in trailing Carleton Lynne had been weary ones to
him. It was the one element of detective work that he disliked.
In the meantime Nick Carter had gone directly to the Lynne box, had
passed inside, and had made the same discovery that Chick did--that
there was no one there.
Instead of stepping to the front of it, or withdrawing at once when he
found that no one was there, he remained in the background and began to
study the other boxes in search of Lynne, just as Chick was doing at
that same moment from near the proscenium on the parquet floor.
Lynne was seated in that other box, so that Nick very quickly discovered
him, although he could not see the Babbington woman when she stepped
partly forward, at the time Chick discovered her.
He did see Lynne half turn to address somebody behind him, saw him leave
his seat, and therefore assumed that he was about to leave the box
altogether--and then he made two discoveries:
One was like Chick’s--that he did not know who any of the people were
who were in the box where he had discovered Lynne; the other, and the
more important one, was that in the box adjoining the one he was then
in, on the right, were four persons whom he did know very well, indeed.
The discovery of friends so near at hand decided him on a course that
had not occurred to him till that instant.
He jumped at the conclusion that Lynne was probably returning to his own
box, since his coat and hat were still there, and that probably he was
bringing some person or persons with him; and so Nick slipped quickly
out of the box and, without announcement, entered the adjoining one
occupied by his friends.
“Please don’t move or speak,” he said to them hastily, when they would
have risen to greet him. “I want to listen. I’ll visit with you later.”
They supposed that he referred to the music when he said that he wished
to listen, but his own idea was to learn, if possible, what might be
said in the other box that he had just quitted.
He seated himself upon a chair that was just far enough back from the
front so that he would not be observed, and at once leaned his head upon
one hand, holding the palm open as if the better to divert the sound of
the singing and the orchestra into his ear--and in doing so shielded his
face from any person who might chance to look around from the adjoining
box.
Also he pulled a curtain a little aside, so that he could see as well as
hear--and he was not as greatly amazed as Chick had been a few moments
before when he saw that two women had followed Lynne into the box, and
that one of them was Madge Babbington.
“At last,” was his thought. “The real game is about to begin.”
But if he had anticipated hearing anything of importance in the
conversation that ensued--for not one of the three paid the slightest
attention to the great opera--he was doomed to disappointment.
Their talk was of the most commonplace sort, and it appeared from what
was said that Lynne had, indeed, only just been presented to Mrs.
Hurd-Babbington.
Actual mention of the supposed fact was actually made more than
once--too often, Nick thought; and, indeed, it was the only thing that
made him suspect that the conversation was more or less a studied one.
But he was destined to hear just one thing which made his effort worth
while, and that happened when the other woman gave her attention for a
moment to the stage, thus leaving Lynne and Madge for a instant to
themselves; and it happened, too, that they were very close to the
curtain beyond which Nick Carter was seated at the moment.
Even then, what was said was either quite a natural result of their
meeting, or else it was carefully studied, in case it should be
overheard.
“You are a charming woman, Mrs. Babbington,” Lynne said, in a low tone.
“I wish that I might have an opportunity to know you better.”
“Then why don’t you seek one?” she retorted.
“May I? May I venture to call upon you?” he asked, with apparent
eagerness.
“Would I turn a multimillionaire from my door?” she laughingly replied.
“Then I may come to you? When?” he demanded.
“You may come to-morrow, at three, if you like, and drink tea with me,”
she said.
That was all; but it was sufficient, for Nick Carter, hearing it,
decided on the instant that he would find a means to be there also.