NICK CARTER’S WORD.
While the threat about the police caused some of the more timid spirits
in the crowd to hang back and even talk of going home, the majority
were determined to fight their way into the house at all hazards.
“We’ll git there, if everybody joins in!” proclaimed Billings. “As many
men as can squeeze in help me to push down this door.”
But the door was heavy and solidly bolted in place, and the combined
strength of half a dozen powerful men was insufficient to force it from
its hinges on one side or its fastenings on the other.
“We’ll keep on till we do it,” was Billings’ decision, and the attack
was renewed.
Meanwhile, there was a decided feeling of apprehension inside the
house. Andrew Lampton, Louden Powers, and the man whom they called
Howard Milmarsh were all in the bedroom which had been occupied by
Louden, which was at the front of the house, and at whose window had
taken place the parley with Bonesy Billings.
“I’ve got the outside blinds bolted,” announced Louden Powers, “and the
window is closed. Of course, if ever they got through the sunblinds,
they could easily smash the window. My idea is to fight them off as
they come in. We can’t hope that the house is strong enough in itself
to keep them out. It is not a castle.”
“Can’t we make some terms with them?” suggested the alleged Howard.
Louden Powers turned on him with a snarl.
“What for? And how are you going to do it? Do you want to give up your
thousand dollars?”
“I might not have to do that.”
“Yes, you would. And they would expect Lampton and me to do the same.
Well, I won’t do it. Neither will Lampton. All we can do is to keep
these people out till the police get here.”
“You haven’t telephoned the police, have you?” asked Lampton, with a
look of alarm.
Louden Powers contrived to wink at Lampton, while, in a loud tone, he
replied:
“Of course I have. We may not be able to hold off this crowd ourselves,
and we’ve got to have the police. You can see that, Howard.”
“I don’t see anything, except that you have got me into an infernal
scrape with your Paradise City idea. What is the use of it, just for a
little ready money now, when we shall have plenty of it as soon as the
estate is settled. I was a fool to give in to you.”
“I don’t know that,” put in Lampton. “Things are getting mighty hot in
this house, and I’m inclined to get away from it while the going is
good. What was the meaning of all that fuss last night? Who were those
two men who looked so much like the two Howard Milmarshes?”
“I don’t know who the old man was. But it’s my belief the other was the
fellow who got hurt in that fire and who says he is the real Howard
Milmarsh. It couldn’t have been anybody else.”
“Well, how do you suppose he got into your bedroom?”
“There’s only one way to account for it, and that is that Nick Carter
had a hand in it. He has been trying to beat me out of this property
with that fellow who is in the hospital, and it may be that his man has
recovered enough to come here.”
“Got his memory back, eh?”
“I don’t know about that. He could be brought here to scare me without
that. He didn’t speak last night—only looked at me.”
“He was quite a scrapper,” observed Lampton.
“Well, he could be that and still not have all his senses about him,”
maintained the other.
“I’ll tell you one thing, fellows,” suddenly broke in the possessor
of the Milmarsh mansion. “I’m just about sick of this whole thing. It
looks to me as if I’m the scapegoat, while you get all the profit. I’m
going to give up. There’s too much trouble in trying to prove that I am
the rightful heir. I’d rather be poor, and worry along as I have done
for years than take all this that I’ve gone through with since I’ve
been up in this devilish house.”
“What’s the matter with you? Are you——”
“Yes,” broke in the young man violently. “I’m going to give the whole
game away. I don’t care what you say. I’m not going to take the chance
of five years in the pen just to——”
“Oh, shut up!” broke in Louden in his usual masterful way. “You have to
do what you’re told. You are the heir to the Milmarsh fortune. We’ve
proved that for you. Now you talk about backing out, just because you
have not nerve to hold on to what is your own. You make me sick!”
“Here! Quit fighting over that!” broke in Andrew Lampton, running into
the room from the landing, where he had been listening to the noise
outside. “Those fellows have broken down the outer door, and they are
coming in. They won’t have much trouble forcing the inner door, for
that’s half glass.”
There was a crash of glass below, which told that the mob had made its
way into the house.
“Where is he?” roared the voice of Bonesy Billings. “Bring him down! We
want him!”
Already they could hear the rumbling of many feet upon the lower floor,
when a clear, ringing voice rose far above the din.
“Stop!”
It was the voice of Nick Carter.
It seemed as if his voice had some power far above that wielded by the
order of authority. The men on the third-story heard the mob actually
falling back and stumbling down the stairs.
“How did _he_ get in here?” growled Louden Powers.
“Didn’t come in with the mob, did he?” suggested Lampton.
“I told you,” gasped the man they called Howard Milmarsh. “I knew this
man, Carter, was in it. He brought those two people into my bedroom
last night when I had been drinking so much that my nerve was nearly
gone. I was sure of it! He told me some time ago he’d get me if I
didn’t act square. Now I know I haven’t been square with him, and here
he is.”
“Well, he’s taking our side, you idiot!” grumbled Powers. “He’s holding
them back.”
“He has his own purposes to serve if he is. Look here, Louden, I’m
going to tell him just what is the truth.”
“Howard Milmarsh,” broke in Andrew Lampton. “You’re crazy. All this
bother over your estate has turned your brain. Isn’t that so, Louden?”
“Of course. But, listen!”
“We want Howard Milmarsh!” they heard Bonesy Billings shout. “He’s
robbed us, and we want him.”
Nick Carter had come out of one of the rooms on the second floor and
now stood at the head of the lower flight of stairs, with Chick and
Patsy Garvan on either side of him. All three were looking down at the
mob with a coolness that caused even the excited men and women below
them to wonder.
“You can’t have Howard Milmarsh,” said Carter. “Bonesy Billings, you
know me, don’t you?”
Billings came a step nearer, so that he could look into the face of the
detective. Then he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment.
“Mr. Carter!”
“Yes. And this is Chick by my side. You know him, and Patsy Garvan!”
“Sure I do!”
“Say, Bonesy,” put in Kid Plang behind impatiently, “what’s all this
guff you’re giving us? Who are these guys? None of ’em is Howard
Milmarsh. I know that. And they ain’t Louden Powers nor Andrew Lampton,
either, I’m willing to bet. Lead us up them stairs if you’re goin’ to.
If not, I’ll do it!”
Kid Plang tried to push past Billings. One sweep of Bonesy’s powerful
arm sent him down among the others in a disgruntled heap.
There was a hubbub of shouting and grumbling, and Bonesy turned to
shake his fist at them as he bellowed:
“Shut up down there, or I’ll come an’ lick some of you! Can’t you see
I’m talking to a gentleman for the benefit of all of us?”
“It don’t look like it,” growled Plang, as, he got to his feet, but
carefully kept out of reach of Bonesy’s arm and fist.
“Now, Mr. Carter,” went on Billings, addressing the detective, “I know
you are square, and so are them two with you. But we’ve come here to
get back the money what’s been stole from widders an’ orphans an’
workin’ men who have had to work hard for everything they have. The
money was stole on the pretense that there was a fine tract of land on
this estate what was to be sold on easy terms for homes.”
“I know that’s true,” remarked Nick quietly.
“What do you suppose he’s getting at?” muttered Lampton to Powers on
the upper landing.
“Listen, and we’ll find out. Then we’ll know what to do.”
Louden Powers spoke calmly. He was much the bolder rascal of the two.
His iron nerve it was that had brought the plot to its present point.
He did not despair yet of putting it through to entire success.
“We’ve looked into this thing, and we find the land is nothing but
swamp, and it wouldn’t be possible to build houses on it—at least, not
till thousands of dollars had been spent on draining it and filling it
in. There ain’t no sign as these ducks what have our money mean to do
any such thing.”
“Well?”
“Then we’re going to see this Howard Milmarsh and make him give back
our money first of all. After that we’ll sue him for damages. There’s
good lawyers in New York what will take our cases and not ask no fee
unless they win for us. An’ we’d be sure to win, so we’re goin’ up here
to find this Howard Milmarsh—if you’ll step out of our way, Mr. Carter.”
“That’s the talk!” called out somebody in the heart of the crowd. “Take
us to Howard Milmarsh!”
“Howard Milmarsh is not here,” said the detective in loud, clear tones.
“What?” blurted out Billings. “Not here? We have had positive word that
he is in this house.”
“Look here, Bonesy,” returned Nick, still in a quiet, distinct voice,
“did you ever know me to say a thing that was not absolutely true?”
“Never,” was the unhesitating testimony.
“Then, I tell you, Howard Milmarsh is not in this house. Do you believe
me?”
There was a moment of silence. The crowd below and the three men on the
third floor, at the top of the stairs, were waiting for what Bonesy
Billings would say. At last came the response:
“_I believe you, Mr. Carter._”
The man who stood between Louden Powers and Andrew Lampton, and whom
they had persistently addressed as Howard Milmarsh, made a movement as
if he would go down the stairs.
The other two dragged him back savagely.