AT MADAME RECLAIRE’S.
Madame Reclaire’s face grew ghastly. Her attempted bravado faded away in
an instant. She caught at a chair for support.
“Murder!” she gasped.
“Yes, murder! You must make proper explanation or go to jail.”
“What do you want me to explain?”
“A label from one of your bottles has been found in a case where life
was taken unlawfully. It may be you are innocent of wrong in the affair,
but your bleaching devices were used in a plot which has, as I said,
resulted in murder.”
“As Heaven hears me, I am not a party to the crime.”
“That remains to be seen. It behooves you to speak the truth to us.
About two years ago a man with a long, black beard called at this place
and purchased some bottles of a wash to bleach his beard and his hair
snow-white.”
“I remember him well.”
The chief of police shot Nick a quick triumphant glance. Madame
Reclaire saw it, and properly interpreted the meaning of that look. She
bit her lip till it almost bled. The shrewd woman knew in an instant
that she had been trapped; that her two visitors had no knowledge of any
such visit from a customer such as they had described.
The chief had stated a suspicion as a fact, and she admitted its truth.
“Now, we are getting on,” said the chief. “Who was with him?”
“Nobody.”
“There your memory fails you, madam, and I see we might as well take you
with us, where we can refresh your recollection with faces.”
“Well, then, he was accompanied by another man.”
“Of the same age?”
“No. Older, I should say.”
“Had he a beard?”
“Yes.”
“Its color?”
“Very light--almost yellow.”
“And hair to match?”
“Of course.”
“You doctored him, also?”
“Yes”--reluctantly.
“What hue?”
“Made his beard and hair sandy.”
“And have supplied both with enough of the washes since then to keep
those colors up?”
“Yes.”
“You did not ask what purpose they had in view by changing the color of
beard and hair?”
“No. That was none of my affair.”
“Hereafter you had better make it your business. We will leave you now,
madam. Until I see you again, do not go to the bother of trying to leave
your apartments. You’ll be watched, and it would only lead to your
landing in jail. Good-day.”
Her visitors left as abruptly as they had arrived.
Nick went direct to the Broad Street Station, and took a train at that
point for Elmwood, where he arrived about nine o’clock at night.
From the Elmwood Station he went straight to Dr. Abbott’s office.
Fortunately he found Abbott in and alone.
“Hello, Ketchum! I’m downright glad you’ve come. Had you been ten
minutes sooner, you would have seen Mackenzie’s son, who just left my
office. He came in yesterday, and was awfully cut up over the unexpected
news of his father’s death.”
“Was the dog, Rover, with him?”
“Why, no. That is a strange question, Mr. Ketchum.”
“Is it? What is there strange about it?”
“Why should you ask whether the dog was with him?”
“I’ll tell you, Dr. Abbott. I was at the hotel yesterday when young
Mackenzie arrived. Rover found him there, and took a great fancy to him.
I thought, perhaps, the dog might be following him around.”
“There was something more than that to the meaning of your question.”
“Again I ask why you think so?”
“Because somebody killed the dog last night.”
“The news does not surprise me.”
“You know who killed him?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Wait a moment, doctor. What did Mackenzie want just now? To tell you
his stepmother had been summoned to go to New York to-morrow by the
Scotia Insurance Company to get the money on the policy of that
company?”
“Why, yes; but----”
“And he wanted you to go along to furnish proofs of death, and to
identify the widow?”
“Yes. Were you eavesdropping?”
“Not at all. I came straight from the depot.”
“Then how on earth do you know so much?”
“I’ll tell you, presently. First, let me ask whether you promised to go
to New York with Mrs. Mackenzie?”
“I did.”
“Is this son going, too?”
“He is. And I’ll be obliged if you’ll help them out with your evidence.”
“Oh! I’ll help them out, never fear. But neither you nor I must go with
them.”
“What in the world are you driving at?”
“Are we alone?”
“Entirely so.”
“Safe from interruption?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to astonish you; probably shock you.”
“How?”
“First, by telling you that the poor dog, which was killed last night,
was not so easily deceived as you were.”
“Deceived. Why----”
“Had your perceptions been as clear as the dog’s, you, too, might have
met his fate.”
“Ketchum, this is mummery. What are you trying to say?”
“Please don’t call me Ketchum.”
“Why?”
“Because it is not my name.”
“Then, in Heaven’s name, who are you?”
“I am Nick Carter, the detective!”
“What!”
Abbott jumped to his feet, as he made the exclamation, and stood looking
at the man before him like one entranced.
“You must have heard of me?” said Nick, dryly.
“Heard of you! Who has not heard of Nick Carter?”
“Would you believe me if I made a plain statement of facts?”
“That depends.”
“Well, I’m going to risk it, and rely on your good, sound common sense.
I believe I know you well enough to trust you with an astonishing
secret.”
“A secret? What secret?”
“Let me ask you a question. That dog, you told me, was very fond of his
master, Miles Mackenzie?”
“Yes.”
“Went with him nearly everywhere; followed him about?”
“That’s true.”
“Wasn’t it strange that the dog did not recognize his master’s corpse in
the coffin when he looked at it night before last?”
“Why, I didn’t notice.”
“Then I did. An intelligent dog like Rover would have known even his
master’s corpse.”
“Why, you don’t mean----”
“Wait. Perhaps you noticed that the dog was almost constantly searching
for something.”
“Well, yes. There was certainly something of that kind in his demeanor.”
“He was looking for his master.”
“That may be.”
“And he found him. That is where Rover, the dog, was shrewder than you,
the friend.”
“Found him? How? Where?”
“Listen. I’ll tell you.”
Then Nick described the scene at the hotel when Rover surprised the
landlord, and aggravated the newly arrived son.
“Good heavens, man! What is this you are telling me?”
“That the dog could not be deceived. He knew the corpse in the coffin
was not the remains of his master as well as he knew the pretended son
was Mackenzie himself, without white whiskers, without white hair,
without dye on the upper part of the face.”
Abbott sank back into his chair, speechless with amazement.
“Incredible!” he gasped, finally.
“It seems so, but I have the proofs to back up the murdered dog’s cute
perceptions--that instinct which cost him his life.”
“Oh! this is beyond belief.”
“No. Even incredulous as you are determined to be, you shall soon agree
that you have been wonderfully deceived. Shall I tell you the strange
story?”
“As you please.”
“Well, some years ago, a certain Dr. Greene owned a private sanitarium
near Oakland, Cal.
“Among his patients was a rich man, who met with a peculiar affliction.
The man’s name was Jason Templin.
“His affliction left him helpless, speechless and without the power of
thought. He was a living man with a dead brain.
“Templin had a long, white beard, snow-white hair, and a florid face.
“Dr. Greene had a beard equally long, but it was black.
“Among the attendants at the sanitarium was one of Templin’s nurses, a
handsome, scheming young woman.
“It was she, I suspect, who conceived the plan to obtain great wealth,
and at the same time become the wife of Dr. Greene, whom she, in her
way, loved.
“She made the discovery that if Greene’s beard and hair were white, and
his face a little more florid, he would be almost the counterpart of the
strange patient--Jason Templin.
“Then a plan was probably laid which had in its aim the substitution of
Greene for Templin, whereby they might obtain the latter’s great wealth.
“Subsequently, circumstances undoubtedly changed the plan somewhat.
“One day a man met his death in such a way that only Greene and his
scheming aids knew anything about it. This man’s body was dressed in
Templin’s clothes, the body was laid with the face in the grate fire of
Templin’s room till it was burned beyond the power of recognition, and
the helpless Templin was put in perfect concealment.
“The mutilated body was delivered to Templin’s friends, who buried it,
under the belief that they were burying the unfortunate man’s corpse.
“Shortly afterward Greene sold out, receiving seventy-five thousand
dollars cash for his property.
“He announced that he was going to Australia.
“When we investigate further, it will be found that Templin’s handsome
nurse and several other of his associates disappeared at the same time,
and were seen no more in California.
“Some time later, Miles Mackenzie appeared in this town of Elmwood. With
him was his young wife and a stout servant woman.
“This Mackenzie was such a living image of the awfully afflicted Jason
Templin that the latter’s daughter, a few weeks ago, caught sight of
Mackenzie’s white beard and hair, and mistook him for her father, whose
remains she had believed were lying in a vault at San Francisco.
“When Miss Templin saw the disguised Mackenzie, he had just paid a
premium on a one-hundred-thousand-dollar life insurance policy.
“Her mistake led to an investigation.
“The fact turned up that Mackenzie had five one-hundred-thousand-dollar
policies.
“A little further investigation showed that in two years he had paid, in
premiums, over sixty thousand dollars.
“There was not enough left of the seventy-five thousand dollars to pay
another year’s premiums, and still the unfortunate, helpless Templin,
hidden away by the man who was masquerading as his able-bodied double,
didn’t die, and give them a chance to collect the insurance.
“So a crisis in their plans approached, and the murder, which they had
hoped to avoid, seemed to be inevitable.
“Meanwhile, Mackenzie had singled out a physician in high standing at
Elmwood, as his chosen friend and confidant.
“He succeeded in winning this doctor’s friendship, and by correctly
describing the symptoms, so well known to him as a doctor, of a deadly
disease, prepared the deceived friend for the news of his sudden death.
“Then the helpless Templin’s life was sacrificed----”
“No! No! Great heavens! No! This Templin may have died a natural death,”
cried Abbott.
“But he didn’t, as I’ll convince you soon. Templin was killed--poisoned,
probably--and his body was produced before the Elmwood people as that of
Mackenzie.
“Even you were deceived; but it didn’t deceive the dog.
“Meanwhile, Greene disappeared. He cut off his beard, cropped his hair,
removed the dye from his face, and appeared in his real character as a
comparatively young man.
“He had prepared for his advent in Elmwood in the character of his own
son, by showing letters from the supposed young man written in London,
Paris and other foreign cities.”
“Who wrote them?”
“One of his companions in crime--a man whose beard and hair of yellow
hue had been dyed a sandy color. A man named Dent.”
“Where is he?”
“I haven’t found him yet, but expect to.
“So the false son came home at almost the hour when the remains of the
supposed father were being taken away to be cremated.
“But the brute instincts of a dog nearly betrayed the well-laid plot. It
so thoroughly frightened the arch-plotter that he concluded to take no
further risks in that direction, and while the pretended widow was
witnessing the incineration of the remains of Jason Templin, the
rejuvenated Miles Mackenzie, alias Dr. Greene, killed his loving dog.
“Do you remember how persistently the supposed widow insisted on seeing
the remains cremated?”
“Yes, yes!”
“And did you not wonder at her great nerve during the trying ordeal?”
“Good heavens, how blind I was!”
“Do you know why she would not leave till she saw the body in ashes?”
“I can guess, now.”
“She took no chances on an autopsy ever being held. That is why I am so
sure Jason Templin did not die a natural death.”
“Where did they keep Templin all this time?”
“I don’t know, but we will find out.”
“We?”
“You and I. That is why I said you must not go with them to New York
to-morrow. I want you, in their absence, to go with me and make a search
of their house.”
“And yet I am not blind, nor a fool!” ejaculated Abbott.
“Do you still think it is beyond belief?”
“No. The only thing which is almost beyond belief now, is that I should
have been so easily deceived.”