UP AGAINST IT IN EITHER CASE.
“I was never so astonished in my life,” said Danton, as they walked arm
in arm together along the hotel corridor. “Of course, I have heard that
you could step up and hold conversations with your best friends without
once giving them a chance to recognize you, but I never believed it, you
know. I always thought that sort of thing was what the boys call
‘Sherlock-Holmesing,’ don’t you know. Very pleasant to read about, but
not an element of real life. Just speak again, won’t you, for I am not
sure yet that you are really Nick Carter; I’m not, really.”
“I’m not Nick Carter, Danton--at least, not for the present. I am the
Marquis de St. Cyr. At least, that is the name by which I have
registered on the books of the hotel.”
“And why, may I ask?”
“Rather, for the moment, let me ask the questions. Are you especially
addicted to the two gentlemen who are with you?”
“Eh?”
“Who is with you?”
“Oh. Nobody in particular. They are only time-killers. The fact is I
have been so upset since that episode of the carriage, when I thought I
saw my sister, that I cannot get the idea out of my head that she is
here in this hotel. I was glad of any excuse for sitting around here for
an hour or so.”
“Even though you sat in the café where there is not the slightest
possibility that you will see her if she is here?” asked Nick.
“Yes; even so. Oh, I haven’t the faintest idea that I will see her
again, you know.”
“Let me ask you, Danton, if, when you use the pronoun ‘her,’ you mean
your sister, or the woman you saw in the cab and whom you thought was
your sister?”
“You seem to be mighty well convinced that she was not Mercedes.”
“I am as positive as I can be without having established the truth of my
statement.”
“Well, whether the woman I saw was Mercedes or somebody else, I cannot
get it out of my head that she is here in this hotel.”
“She is here in this hotel.”
“Ah! You know, then?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out?”
“Never mind that now. Come, let us return to your friends. You may
introduce me as an old friend from Paris, the Marquis de St. Cyr--and
then, as soon as it is politely convenient, I want you to shake them and
give your attention to me. I have suddenly determined to initiate you
into real detective work to-night.”
“Eh? Do you mean that you want me to help you?”
“Just that, if you are game and care to do so. If you think I may depend
upon your discretion and--sand.”
“Sure thing, Carter! You may depend upon both.”
It was midnight when they had parted from the friends of Reginald Danton
and had repaired to the room to which Nick had been assigned; and then,
in a low tone, but with great earnestness, Nick outlined what he
intended to do and the manner in which Danton could assist him.
“To begin with, Danton,” he said, “you had scarcely left my house before
Sarah Kearney put in an appearance, and from her I have gleaned enough
of the facts connected with the departure from home to assure me that
she has been made the victim--or, rather, one of the intended
victims--of a very deep plot which includes your whole family. Then, my
young friend, I was seeking you in order to warn you to be especially on
your guard, when quite by accident I discovered that Mercedes Danton and
two maids are registered here at this hotel. In fact, they are at this
moment occupying the suite that is directly opposite this one.”
“Gee whizz! Is that so?”
“Quite so. Now listen to me quietly and patiently, and I will tell you
how I have sized up the circumstances connected with the events that
have happened in your family lately--and what I want you to do to help
me to-night.”
“Go ahead, old man. What is it?”
“In the first place you must understand that the man has never been born
into the world who is always right; I am not an exception to the rule,
and while I believe in the theories I have worked out from what has been
told to me, there is always the possibility that I may be wrong. Now,
Danton, it is highly important that I should enter that room opposite
us, before morning----”
“Eh? What the dev----”
“Wait. I must know before daylight if the woman in that room is your
sister, or an impostor. If she is really your sister, then there is
nothing more for me to do in the premises, save to await the morning and
then send up my card in the usual way in the hope that she will receive
me in the interests of her brother.”
“Well; and if she is not----”
“If she is not your sister--why, then, I know already who she is, and I
will not be long in determining how to act.”
“If she is not my sister, who is she?”
“Isabel Benton.”
“The devil you say!”
“Well, if I am right in my conjectures, a sort of a she-devil, I grant
you.”
“But, I mean----”
“I know exactly what you mean; better than you do yourself--but don’t
let us get away from the main subject until I have finished what I have
to say on that point.”
“All right. Go ahead.”
“Well, then, in plain English, if by any possibility I am mistaken, and
the woman in that room is Mercedes Danton, I tell you frankly that I
would rather be shot than to enter there without her permission. You
see----”
“Wait half a minute, Carter. I want to ask you a question.”
“All right. What is it?”
“This: If it were any other woman on top of the great green earth, not
my sister--any other woman in the world except Mercedes Danton, would
you feel any hesitation about entering her room, if you considered the
act as a necessary part of your duty?”
Nick looked calmly into his companion’s eyes and replied slowly:
“No; I don’t think I should hesitate.”
“Good! I understand you, Carter, better than you think. Now another
question: If Mercedes Danton were not in question, you would not even
stop to consider that your premises in this case are correct, would
you?”
“No; I don’t think I should.”
“That’s all right, Nick, old man. It would seem that I was not so far
wrong as one might suppose when I teased Mercedes until she was angry.
But we’ll drop all that now. You had got as far as saying that you would
rather be shot than enter that room under certain circumstances. Go
ahead from there.”
“If by any chance your sister is in that room, why, it would be no great
crime for her brother to enter it without her knowledge, just to
ascertain if she is really there, while, for me to do so, would be----”
“Terrible, eh? Let it go at that. But, I say; do you think for a moment
that I’m going to burgle that room?”
“That is exactly what I expect you to do.”
“It strikes me that the shoe is on the other foot now, with a
vengeance.”
“How so?”
“Why, this way: If I burgle the room, and it is my sister’s room, no
harm is done. If I burgle it and it is not my sister’s room, then the
devil is to pay.”
Nick laughed outright.
“If you enter the room and my sister is there,” continued Danton, “you
are up against it, and if I enter the room and my sister is not there, I
am up against it.”
Nick Carter’s face suddenly became grave.
“We are wasting precious time, Reginald,” he said. “Now I want you to
listen while I tell you a story.”
“All right, old chap. Go ahead.”
“Carry your mind back to the time when you first engaged Paul Rogers as
your valet.”
“Hello! Harking back to that, eh?”
“Yes. Be serious now, for it is a very serious matter.”
“Well?”
“How was he first brought to your notice so that you were inclined to
take him into your service?”
“I think he was recommended to me through Orizaba; through some friend
of his, if I remember correctly.”
“I had scarcely hoped for so good a reply as that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did Orizaba tell you that he personally knew Rogers?”
“No; I remember distinctly that he assured me he had never seen him.”
“Now, in the light of all that occurred later--the murder of Orizaba and
the written confession of Rogers, together with his flight, little
things have gone out of your mind. I want to know if in the beginning of
Rogers’ employment in your service, you ever noticed any sign that
passed between him and Orizaba by which you might be led to suppose that
they were not unknown to each other?”
“No. I never saw a thing: but then I would be the last person in the
world to see such a thing, even if it existed.”
“Now, one more question and then I will tell my story. Did it ever occur
to you that Rogers and the maid, Isabel Benton, were anything more than
mere fellow servants in your household?”
“Sure! He was dead stuck on her. I bantered him about it often--when I
was half-full.”
“Good. Now I will tell the story.”
“I hope it is as good as the introduction is exciting.”
“Good or not, it is logical. It is wholly made up from my practise of
putting two and two together, but the more I have thought about it, the
more convinced I have become that it is correct.”