THE MAN WHO ESCAPED.
Nick Carter decided instantly what must be done, also not done. He
continued talking with Beckwith without a perceptible pause.
Nick questioned him briefly, obtained Pauline Perrot’s Fordham address,
and he then directed him to give no publicity to the matter, but to
await the arrival of Chick Carter, his chief assistant, whom he would
immediately send to Gordon’s office to investigate the case.
Nick then called up the library in his Madison Avenue house and talked
with Chick. He gave him a brief outline of the circumstances, together
with such instructions as were necessary, and he then directed him to
report in person at Gordon’s residence in the Bronx.
“It will take him a couple of hours at least,” he remarked to Patsy,
after hanging up the receiver. “We can get in our work elsewhere, in the
meantime, and return before he arrives.”
Naturally, of course, several pertinent questions had arisen in Nick’s
mind, and which could not consistently be ignored, in spite of his high
opinion of Arthur Gordon.
Was he really the writer of the letter received by Mina Strickland? Had
conditions really arisen which made imperative the course he said he was
about to shape?
Had he realized at that late day, indeed, that he was not as deeply in
love with Wilhelmina as he had supposed? Had he, too, become helplessly
infatuated with Pauline Perrot, and as an only desperate resort
determined to desert Miss Strickland and elope with the stenographer?
Was it he, in that case, who had taken the cash, bonds, and securities
from the vault in his office? Had he sacrificed all but that small part
of his fortune, to say nothing of character, friends, and family, for a
mad love for another woman?
In view of the fact that Gordon had been acting voluntarily, and in a
measure had deceived the Stricklands as to his intentions the previous
afternoon, Nick could not but give the foregoing questions serious
consideration. He had, as observed before, known of such cases. They
were common enough, in fact, and what man has done, man may do.
Nick’s face reflected none of his thoughts, however, when he turned from
the telephone and stated what he had learned; and the effect upon
Wilhelmina was about what he was anticipating.
“Good heavens, is it possible?” she exclaimed, ghastly with increasing
apprehensions. “All that money gone from his vault? Don’t keep me in
suspense, Mr. Carter. Tell me just what you think about it. Tell me----”
“I must look deeper into the matter, Miss Strickland, before I can tell
you anything definite,” Nick interposed evasively. “I have not changed
my opinion, such as it was, and I will lose no time in sifting the
matter to the bottom. Try to be patient until I have done so.”
“I will try, Mr. Carter, at least,” she replied. “But all this must be
the culmination of the terrible secret dread I have been feeling.”
“Secret dread?”
“I say that only because I have not mentioned it to any one, being
unable to ascribe a definite cause for it,” Mina explained. “But it has
been hanging over me like a depressing cloud ever since I first saw
Pauline Perrot--ever since, in fact, the escape of that terrible
criminal, Mortimer Deland, from the prison hospital.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Nick, regarding her more intently.
“You were employed by Arthur, you remember, to run him down,” she went
on. “I have heard that Mortimer Deland never forgets, nor ever forgives.
Since that extraordinary escape, Mr. Carter, I have lived in fear of
him, for fear that he might attempt to kill Mr. Gordon, or in some
terrible way avenge----”
“Pshaw!” Nick checked her kindly. “Put Deland out of your head. It is
unfortunate, of course, that he fooled the hospital guards, and
contrived to give them the slip.”
“Unfortunate, indeed.”
“But as far as seeking vengeance goes, it is much more probable that he
immediately fled to Europe, whence he came,” Nick added. “Besides, I am
the man he would seek, and not Gordon, for it was I who cornered and
convicted him. There is no occasion for those apprehensions, Miss
Strickland.”
“I hope not, I’m sure,” said Mina. “You are going?”
Nick had taken his hat from a table on which he had placed it.
“Yes,” he replied. “I will return in a couple of hours, however, and
Chick may arrive in the meantime. We will leave no stone unturned to
ferret out the truth.”
He led the way out to his touring car, in which Danny, his chauffeur,
had been waiting in front of the house.
“To Fordham, Danny,” he directed. “Let her go lively.”
“Why to Fordham, chief?” questioned Patsy, when both were seated in the
tonneau and the car was speeding down the long driveway to the rural
road.
“To inspect Pauline Perrot’s apartments and interview her landlady,”
said Nick, with rather ominous intonation.
“Do you suspect her of being a crook?”
“I think she is back of this whole business, Patsy, of whatever it
consists.”
“Gee, that looks like a cinch!” declared Patsy. “Either she is playing a
deep game, chief, and working it out with wonderful success, or Gordon
has lost his head completely and bolted with the woman.”
“The last may possibly be true, since other men have been equally
foolish,” said Nick. “I find it hard to believe of Arthur Gordon,
however.”
“That goes, too.”
“I doubt very much that he would have gone so far as to buy a big
estate, build and furnish a fine residence, and then bolt with a girl he
has known less than six months.”
“But he evidently met her voluntarily yesterday afternoon.”
“She may have wheedled him into doing so.”
“But how, if Gordon did not remove them, could she have got the bonds
and securities from his vault?”
“Chick will try to find out. I have left that to him, and given him all
of the necessary points. It is useless for us to speculate upon it.”
“Gee, it’s surely some case, chief, and likely to become a difficult
one,” said Patsy. “It’s odd, too, that Miss Strickland has felt so
apprehensive of deviltry by Mortimer Deland since his escape.”
“That’s like a girl of her sensitive nature.”
“For all that, chief, Deland must be a mighty slick gink, or he never
could have given the hospital guards the slip in female attire, to say
nothing of having contrived to secretly get the garments. That whole
business is still a mystery.”
“And likely to continue one,” said Nick. “It looked to me like bribery,
Patsy, rather than cleverness on Deland’s part, and the bribery of a
prison official is difficult to expose.”
“That’s right, too.”
“It was no fault of ours, however, for we did our part when we rounded
up the rascals,” Nick added. “Take the road to the left, Danny. I’ll
give you the street and number after we hit the town.”