THE WAY OF THE ROBIN.
Nick’s passage to the Zetler Bank to see the real Mr. Alpheus Cary was
in the nature of a procession.
He had been impressed with the idea that the caller who had announced
himself as Mr. Alpheus Cary, had, by some means, come to know that the
real Mr. Cary was in the neighborhood, and had fled because of that.
His fleeing seemed to Nick to suggest that in some way this person was
either the Brown Robin or some one connected with that person.
The audacity of the effort to impersonate Cary in an interview with Nick
further suggested that the person had much confidence in his own skill,
and was rather conceited about it.
He thought it probable that he would be put under observation in his
next attempt to leave the house.
So he directed Chick to go out and post himself so that he could shadow
Nick and see whether he was followed. And, having respect for the skill
of this Brown Robin, he sent Patsy out charged with the duty of
following Chick, and Ida later to follow Patsy.
Thus it was that when, an hour later, he went out into the street, his
passage to the Zetler Bank was in the nature of a procession.
Nick’s passage, however, was not direct, for he received a signal from
Chick that the latter thought a person was on the track of his chief.
Consequently he took a devious route, turning into many strange places,
doubling on his track and doing a number of strange things.
All this time he paid not the slightest attention as to whether or not
another person was doing these strange things, for he was relying upon
Chick to determine whether any one was on his track.
“Gee!” said Patsy, when, in these doubling turns, he came upon Ida,
“what is this game we’re getting this morning?”
However, Chick had seen a young man about twenty-five or six, who had
made his appearance only as Nick had shown on the street, and whose
route was the same as that of the chief.
When Nick had taken to his devious ways on hearing a peculiar huckster’s
cry behind him, which he knew to be from Chick, this young man had taken
to the same devious ways.
When Nick started straight for the bank, this young man had followed,
and Chick saw him walk to the very door of the Zetler Bank to watch Nick
enter.
Summoning Patsy by signal, he sent him on the trail of this young man,
while he awaited the appearance of Nick from the bank.
The wait was a long one.
When Nick presented his name, Mr. Cary came forward in such excitement
that Nick thought he would betray himself to every one within hearing.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Carter,” he said. “My business is most
important, yet I have been warned——”
“I know,” said Nick, calmly, “the Brown Robin. You have been told not to
dare to talk to me.”
“Why,” exclaimed Mr. Cary, “how do you know that?”
“I guessed it,” said Nick, with a smile. “But take me somewhere where we
can talk aloud and unheard.”
Mr. Cary led the way into an inner room, closing the door after him.
“Now,” said Nick, “there are certain things I know of this case, but I
want you to tell me everything, concealing nothing, not even when it
tells against yourself. I shall regard it as a confidential
communication. Make neither excuses, nor apologies, but tell the plain
truth.”
“But I have been warned not to talk to you at all.”
“By whom?” asked Nick.
“By some one who signs the letter ‘The Brown Robin.’”
“Let me see that letter,” demanded Nick.
“Well, I don’t know that I ought.”
“Now, Mr. Cary,” said Nick, sternly, “you were blackmailed last night;
indeed, it was more nearly like robbery, for the money was taken from
your hands while you were hesitating whether you would pay it over or
not.”
“You know that? How?” asked Mr. Cary.
“Never mind how I know,” replied Nick, sternly. “It is my business to
know a great many things. But I want to say this: I mean to investigate
this matter to the bottom. If you help me by giving me all the
information in your possession, so much the better, but whether you do
or not I shall find all out. Now choose which you will do.”
“Well, I had intended to retain you, but this letter——”
“Let me see it,” demanded Nick, in a decided tone.
Mr. Cary yielded, and, taking the letter from his breast pocket, handed
it to Nick.
At a glance the famous detective saw that it was the same handwriting,
on the same kind of paper, as the two letters he had received in the
morning. It read:
“Dear Papa Cary: I want to warn you against a very bad man. His name
is Nick Carter. You will only get yourself into trouble if you don’t
take my warning. You are in a good deal of trouble now, for you stand
in danger of exposure. Fie! Such a naughty Papa Cary! But you must not
talk to Nick Carter. You must not talk to him of our pleasant
experiences last night. And, Papa Cary, you must come again, and bring
some more of the stuff that makes the mare go. I shall tell you when
and where. And you must, or there will be pretty photographs sent to
Mamma Cary and the little Carys, and to the bank officials, and so
there will if you talk to Nick Carter.
“The Brown Robin.”
Nick folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket, saying:
“This letter will be safer with you than with me. Now tell me how you
met the woman.”
“How do you know——”
“I would rather you would answer my question,” interrupted Nick,
sternly, “and please waste no time with questions. You met a woman last
night. Where? How? When?”
“Well, it was in the Rideau restaurant—that is a——”
“I know—in Fourth Avenue. How came you to be there?”
“Some business took me on the East Side yesterday afternoon, on which I
was delayed beyond my own dinner hour. I had heard of this place and
thought I would like to visit it. So I went there to dine. It was
crowded, few seats being vacant.
“As I passed down the rows of tables I came to one at which was seated a
young woman of attractive appearance, dressed like a lady, in brown, on
whose hat was a robin.
“The seat opposite her was vacant, and, bowing, I asked if I could
occupy it. She consented by saying that she could not prevent me, as it
was free to any one to take.
“Seating myself, it was not long before I was in conversation with her.”
“I see,” said Nick. “Did she know who you were?”
“Why, no.”
“Then how did she come to know?”
“That is where I was a fool. I told her.”
“On her inquiry?”
“No, confound it. A bottle of wine and a pretty woman let loose my
tongue, and I babbled like an infant.”
Nick had difficulty in keeping a straight face over this frank
confession and the disgusted face that accompanied it.
“Of course you didn’t know her?” asked Nick.
“No; she told me she was but recently from Chicago; that she was
married; that her husband had been detained at the last moment, but
would soon follow her.”
“Well, what then?”
“It ended in my paying for her supper, and we arose from the table
together, leaving the restaurant together.
“In the street I asked her direction, and proposed to accompany her as
far as her door.”
“It would seem as if, then, you took the lead in this thing.”
“That is true in a way, yet she encouraged every step.”
“Of course. Go on.”
“She took me into Seventeenth street, and toward the east, to a
respectable-looking house, which she said was one in which she was
staying, and asked, indeed coaxed, me to enter.
“Well, like a fool, I consented. She took me into the front parlor, and,
asking me to be seated, went off, saying that she would return in a
moment.”
“She did, having changed her street dress for a flowing wrapper. Seating
herself, she began a series of questions about myself that I, fool that
I was, answered.
“Suddenly, and without intimation of her purpose, she arose, and, coming
to me, threw her arms about my neck, seating herself on my lap.
“I was so astonished at this for a moment I was helpless, and in that
moment there was a flash of light that blinded me.
“The woman laughed gayly, and, jumping up, ran into the other room. A
moment later she returned, saying:
“‘Come, Papa Cary. I don’t give my pleasant company for nothing. You’ve
enjoyed my society for two or three hours. You must pay for it. Come!
Shell out!’
“‘What is this?’ I cried, ‘blackmail?’
“‘Some unpleasant people call it that, I believe,’ she said. ‘But
whatever it is, you must submit.’
“‘Not by any means,’ I said. ‘You have attacked the wrong person.’
“Again she laughed, and, springing up, ran into the next room, to return
in a moment, bringing with her a photograph plate.
“‘You may look at that,’ she said, holding it up before me. Over the rim
she pointed a small revolver.
“I looked to see that a photograph of myself, with her on my lap, her
arms about my neck, had been taken.
“I fairly staggered back in alarm, and with a merry, mocking laugh, she
hurried with the plate into the other room. When she came back, she
said:
“‘I’m a business woman, Papa Cary. A short horse is soon curried. Out
with your money, or, as soon as these photos are printed they will be
sent to decorate your home and your office.’
“In my first fright over this threat I took some money from my pocket,
but the thought came that payment wouldn’t end it, and that I ought to
bargain with her in a way that would secure me.
“While I hesitated, thinking what to do, by a quick movement she
snatched the money from my hand, crying, with a laugh: ‘Thank you.’
“I protested—demanded its return. But she said:
“‘Oh, no! You have given me this, and it will not be the last that you
will give me, either. This is only the beginning. And I will pay you for
it by always keeping those photographs.’
“All this time she was laughing, but I could see in her right hand her
revolver. I suddenly jumped forward to seize her revolver arm, when she
sprang back and in an instant everything was dark. The lights went out.
“Then I was pushed forward and out of the room by more than one, through
a hall and into the street.
“In my anger I threatened that I would put you, Mr. Carter, on her
track, and when I was in the street I rushed about, trying to find a
policeman.
“By and by, however, my common sense came uppermost, and I saw that by
appealing to a policeman I should only make public what I should, in my
own interests, keep quiet.
“So, determining to see you as soon as I could, I went home.
“This morning, on reaching the bank, I found the letter which you now
have in your possession.”
“How much money did she take?”
“A little less than a hundred dollars—I cannot tell exactly; between
ninety and a hundred.”
“Did you see any one else then?”
“No.”
“You could go again to that house?”
“No doubt of it.”
“Have you told me everything that occurred?”
“Everything, reserved nothing. Now, I want those photographs, Mr.
Carter. I want you to get them. I’ll pay for them; but I won’t be
blackmailed.”
Nick was silent a moment or two, thinking. Then he said:
“On your recital it seems to be merely a vulgar panel game. But I think
there is more back of it than that. However, I will take the case. I
will think it over. Do nothing, however, until you see me again. I shall
probably be back again in an hour or two, possibly with my plan of
action worked out.”
Nick left the banking house, and, going into the street met Chick and
Ida.
“Was I followed?”
“Yes,” replied Chick. “Followed to these doors by a young fellow of
twenty-five, stylishly dressed. He was like a woman more than a man;
that is, his face was so fine and handsome.”
“What became of him?”
“He went off after seeing you, with a curious smile on his face. Patsy
is on his trail.”
“Then that is all right,” said Nick. “Come with me. I think we have got
a case well worth looking on. We will go somewhere where we can talk it
over.”
The three then went to a neighboring hotel.