POSSIBILITIES.
Nick had summoned his faithful aids, Chick, Ida, and Patsy, to meet him
at his apartments on his arrival. He found them awaiting him when he got
home, and, without waste of time, sat down to tell them the incidents of
the new case they were engaged on.
“Of course,” he said, in conclusion, “you will see that in the
occurrence of this murder, the poisoning of the dogs slips away into
minor importance.
“Yet, if Mrs. Constant’s suspicions are correct, the same person is
responsible for both.
“In that way, or that view of it, it becomes important to trace out that
poisoning.”
“The thing stands this way, then,” said Chick. “If Mrs. Constant is
right about the murder of her sister, she is right about the dogs; if
she is wrong about the dogs, she is wrong about the murder.”
“As usual, Chick,” said Nick, “you state the whole thing in a nutshell.
So, as the dog business is more easily followed than anything else, we
will get into that investigation first.”
“Don’t treat Mrs. Constant’s suspicions too lightly,” said Ida. “I think
you will find that she has kept back her strongest reasons for
suspecting Masson. She has wanted you to guess them. Edith, as her
friend, could get them from her.”
Nick looked up at Ida, sharply, and said:
“That is very shrewd, Ida.”
Turning to Patsy, he went on:
“I want you to take up the dog end of this case, Patsy.”
“I am aching for that,” replied Patsy. “I’d rather run down a man who
would kill a dog like that than anything else. But I say, chief, put me
next to that swell banker. He’s one of my kind.”
Chick and Ida laughed at this, and Nick said:
“You shall have a note to him. As for you, Ida, you must go to
Philadelphia.
“There is this possibility, that the murder of Ethel Romney came out of
her life in that city, before she came to New York—some trouble that she
had there.
“You must look into that, and we must know all about the life, habits,
and even the romances, if any there are, of Ethel Romney. Here is a list
of people who would be likely to know about her.”
He handed her a slip of paper he had prepared for her, and went on:
“There are other possibilities that we must look into. There is that of
suicide.
“It is possible, but not probable.
“Unless the girl had something back in her life, Ethel was more likely
to look to the future with pleasure than otherwise.
“She had come to live in plenty and elegance with a sister to whom she
was much attached.
“Then, there is the possibility that the murder was the outcome of an
attempt by some fellow, bolder than usual, who managed to get into the
carriage, supposing that the woman in it had money or jewelry with her.
“All these possibilities must be examined and run down before I am
willing to take up the suspicions of Mrs. Constant as to Masson. But
that does not mean that we shall not keep Masson in view.
“These things will be undertaken by Chick and I.”
Nick now went to the desk, and, writing a letter, handed it to Patsy,
saying:
“You want to get to work at once, Patsy, while the trail is warm.”
Patsy hurried away, and Ida, saying that, unless the chief had further
instructions, she would go, too, followed the lad out of the apartment.
“Now, Chick,” said Nick. “To send Edith to Mrs. Constant, and then you
and I will take up the most difficult part of the work.”
In a few moments these two shrewd detectives were on their way to the
neighborhood of the Constant residence. As they were riding uptown in
the car, Nick said:
“Mrs. Constant’s theory is that Ethel was killed by a person who had
intended to kill her, but was misled by the strong resemblance between
Ethel and herself.
“That resemblance is great,” admitted Nick. “I was misled by it myself
twice—once shortly after I had been introduced to Mrs. Constant, and
again when Ethel brought that package to me from Blanche Constant.”
“But, chief,” said Chick, “you did not know at that time that Mrs.
Constant had a twin sister; the mistake was a natural one. But if Masson
was as well acquainted with Mrs. Constant as he seems to be it would be
strange if he did not know of that twin sister.”
“And would not have been easily misled,” said Nick. “You have struck a
point that must be investigated.”
“And there is a point on the other side,” said Chick. “The hard thing in
adopting the theory of Mrs. Constant is that a man of the kind Masson is
should commit murder, especially in cold blood.
“Now, suppose that Masson did not know of the twin sister, suppose he
climbed into that coach under the notion that Mrs. Constant was in it.
Since it was Ethel Romney, she, of course, denied that she was Blanche
or that she knew Masson, perhaps, to his anger, leading to the murder
and the reason for it.”
“That is,” said Nick, “supposing it to have been Masson, and that he
lost his temper, he lost control of himself, in that denial.”
“Yes, that is what I mean,” said Chick.
“Well,” said Nick, “it all means that we have plenty of work to do and a
lot of vexatious little inquiries. Whoever it was that got into that
coach, whether it was Masson or some one else, in my opinion crept into
the coach while it was standing in front of that dressmaker’s
establishment to which Ethel Romney went.”
This conversation had occupied the greater portion of their trip uptown.
As they stepped off the car, Nick saw the man Rawson, who was the driver
for Mrs. Constant. He appeared to be looking for some one.
Rawson brightened up as Nick approached, and said:
“I have been looking for you, Mr. Carter, because I have got something
to say. I have been thinking over that ride last night, and especially
since you asked me to-day about its being likely that any one got into
that carriage.”
“Yes, have you thought of anything more?” said Nick.
“Well, yes,” said Rawson. “It isn’t much, but, then, I ought to tell
you. You see, I didn’t think much when you asked me that question, but
since I have.
“The lady was in a great hurry to get back home, and as soon as she got
into the carriage from that dressmaker’s I touched up the horses and
started off at a good gait.
“I didn’t think much then of it, but I am thinking now that as the lady
got into the coach I heard a sort of cry or scream from her, but the
door slammed shut right after it, and I was off at once.”
Nick looked at Chick, and the latter said:
“It looks, chief, as if you were right as to when the person got into
the coach.”
“Yes,” said Nick; “that would look as if the man was already in the
coach, and the noise that Ethel made was a cry of surprise at finding
some one there.”
Turning to Rawson, he said:
“It looks like a very important point, Rawson, and I wish you would keep
up thinking about it. Any little thing about the whole matter tell me
of.”
What answer Rawson might have made to this was prevented by a man who
was evidently a stableman, coming up and addressing Rawson, not knowing
who the two were the coachman was talking to. He said:
“I say, Rawson, it’s true, isn’t it, that you drove the woman that was
killed in the coach yesterday?”
“Yes, it’s true; worse luck,” said Rawson.
“Well, say,” said the man, “the papers say there wasn’t any man with the
woman in that coach. I say there was. What do you say?”
“I say there wasn’t,” said Rawson.
“Well, you’re wrong there.”
Rawson was about to deny this somewhat strongly, but Nick stopped him,
and said to the man:
“What do you know about it?”
“I know there was a man ridin’ with her.”
“How do you know it?” asked Nick.
“Why,” said the man, “I was standin’ in Sixth Avenue talkin’ with a
friend when I saw my friend here, Rawson, pulled up in front of a swell
dressmaker’s.
“Then I see his lady, the one he drives for, get out and go into the
dressmaker’s.
“Well, ’twan’t any of my biz, and I wasn’t lookin’ sharp. By and by I
happened to look at the coach, and there was a swell in it.”
“Are you sure of that?” asked Chick.
“Sure. But, anyhow, my friend breaks away and I gets on the trolley to
go to the stable. When I gets up to Fifty-eighth Street I goes into a
saloon.
“When I had put away a couple of beers, I comes out and I stands in
front lookin’ at a block a big truck loaded with iron had made, when I
see Rawson pulled up.
“Then I see my swell guy in the coach open the door on the other side,
get out, shut the door after him, and slip over to the other side.”
“What’s your name?” sharply asked Nick.
“What’s that to you?” replied the other.
“Johnny,” said Rawson, “this is Mr. Carter, the celebrated detective.”
The man started, a little frightened, and immediately became far more
respectful.
“My name is Johnny Moran,” he said.
“What is your business, Moran?” asked Nick.
“I am a stableman, sometimes drivin’ for a livery stable right near
where Rawson works.”
“He’s all right,” said Rawson. “We worked together in the same stables
before, and he is a good man.”
“I have no doubt of that. He looks like it,” said Nick. “Now, Moran,
what did this man you saw in the coach look like?”
“Well, he was a swell.”
“Describe him as near as you can.”
The man seemed to be embarrassed, and hung his head, as if trying to
think hard.
“I didn’t just see his face,” he said, at length. “He had on a shiny
hat, and whiskers all around his face, that were dark, and the clothes
he had on were swell.”
“Would you know him again if you were to see him?”
The man shook his head doubtfully, and finally said:
“I don’t know about that. You see, I didn’t think anything was wrong
then, and I wasn’t stagging him off for anything. If he was dressed just
the same maybe I would, but I wouldn’t want to swear to it.”
He thought a little while, and then said:
“He was about as tall as him,” he pointed to Chick.
Then he went on:
“Seems to me, as he went across the street with his back to me, he had a
trick of hitching up his right shoulder.”
“How hitching it up?” asked Chick.
“It was more than that—it was a kind of a jerk.”
“Is that all you can tell us?” asked Nick.
“It is all that I can think of now.”
“If we should want you to go with us some time, where could we find
you?” asked Nick.
“You can find me at the stable most any time, and I’ll go with you
whenever you want me to.”
“What you have already told us, Moran,” said Nick, “is very important.
It has settled one question that we were in great doubt about.”
The two detectives turned away, and, as they walked off in the direction
of the Constant house, Nick said:
“Chick, luck’s with us.”
“Nick Carter’s luck,” Chick said, with a laugh.
“It’s luck, whosever it is,” said Nick, “for we might have hunted a long
time before we got such direct evidence of the correctness of our
theory, that the man entered that coach when it stood in front of the
dressmaker’s.”
“I suppose that we must assume that he did enter there,” said Chick,
“but we are weak on that evidence.”
“We have direct evidence as to how he left the coach after the murder,”
said Nick. “I think we can safely assume that there is where he did
enter the coach. However, there is something for you to do, and that is
to go down into that neighborhood and see if you can establish the fact
for a certainty that he did enter there.”
“Then I had better do it without loss of time,” said Chick. “I will go
right away.”
Thus it was that the detectives separated at that point.