Transcriber’s Notes:
The original spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been retained,
with the exception of apparent typographical errors which have been
corrected.
Text in Italics is indicated between _underscores_.
Text in small capitals has been replaced by regular uppercase text.
* * * * *
NICK CARTER STORIES
New Magnet Library
PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS
_Not a Dull Book in This List_
Nick Carter stands for an interesting detective story. The fact that
the books in this line are so uniformly good is entirely due to the
work of a specialist. The man who wrote these stories produced no
other type of fiction. His mind was concentrated upon the creation of
new plots and situations in which his hero emerged triumphantly from
all sorts of trouble, and landed the criminal just where he should
be—behind the bars.
The author of these stories knew more about writing detective stories
than any other single person.
Following is a list of the best Nick Carter stories. They have been
selected with extreme care, and we unhesitatingly recommend each of
them as being fully as interesting as any detective story between cloth
covers which sells at ten times the price.
If you do not know Nick Carter, buy a copy of any of the New Magnet
Library books, and get acquainted. He will surprise and delight you.
_ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT_
850—Wanted: A Clew By Nicholas Carter
851—A Tangled Skein By Nicholas Carter
852—The Bullion Mystery By Nicholas Carter
853—The Man of Riddles By Nicholas Carter
854—A Miscarriage of Justice By Nicholas Carter
855—The Gloved Hand By Nicholas Carter
856—Spoilers and the Spoils By Nicholas Carter
857—The Deeper Game By Nicholas Carter
858—Bolts from Blue Skies By Nicholas Carter
859—Unseen Foes By Nicholas Carter
860—Knaves in High Places By Nicholas Carter
861—The Microbe of Crime By Nicholas Carter
862—In the Toils of Fear By Nicholas Carter
863—A Heritage of Trouble By Nicholas Carter
864—Called to Account By Nicholas Carter
865—The Just and the Unjust By Nicholas Carter
866—Instinct at Fault By Nicholas Carter
867—A Rogue Worth Trapping By Nicholas Carter
868—A Rope of Slender Threads By Nicholas Carter
869—The Last Call By Nicholas Carter
870—The Spoils of Chance By Nicholas Carter
871—A Struggle With Destiny By Nicholas Carter
872—The Slave of Crime By Nicholas Carter
873—The Crook’s Blind By Nicholas Carter
874—A Rascal of Quality By Nicholas Carter
875—With Shackles of Fire By Nicholas Carter
876—The Man Who Changed Faces By Nicholas Carter
877—The Fixed Alibi By Nicholas Carter
878—Out With the Tide By Nicholas Carter
879—The Soul Destroyers By Nicholas Carter
880—The Wages of Rascality By Nicholas Carter
881—Birds of Prey By Nicholas Carter
882—When Destruction Threatens By Nicholas Carter
883—The Keeper of Black Hounds By Nicholas Carter
884—The Door of Doubt By Nicholas Carter
885—The Wolf Within By Nicholas Carter
886—A Perilous Parole By Nicholas Carter
887—The Trail of the Fingerprints By Nicholas Carter
888—Dodging the Law By Nicholas Carter
889—A Crime in Paradise By Nicholas Carter
890—On the Ragged Edge By Nicholas Carter
891—The Red God of Tragedy By Nicholas Carter
892—The Man Who Paid By Nicholas Carter
893—The Blind Man’s Daughter By Nicholas Carter
894—One Object in Life By Nicholas Carter
895—As a Crook Sows By Nicholas Carter
896—In Record Time By Nicholas Carter
897—Held in Suspense By Nicholas Carter
898—The $100,000 Kiss By Nicholas Carter
899—Just One Slip By Nicholas Carter
900—On a Million-dollar Trail By Nicholas Carter
901—A Weird Treasure By Nicholas Carter
902—The Middle Link By Nicholas Carter
903—To the Ends of the Earth By Nicholas Carter
904—When Honors Pall By Nicholas Carter
905—The Yellow Brand By Nicholas Carter
906—A New Serpent in Eden By Nicholas Carter
907—When Brave Men Tremble By Nicholas Carter
908—A Test of Courage By Nicholas Carter
909—Where Peril Beckons By Nicholas Carter
910—The Gargoni Girdle By Nicholas Carter
911—Rascals & Co. By Nicholas Carter
912—Too Late to Talk By Nicholas Carter
913—Satan’s Apt Pupil By Nicholas Carter
914—The Girl Prisoner By Nicholas Carter
915—The Danger of Folly By Nicholas Carter
916—One Shipwreck Too Many By Nicholas Carter
917—Scourged by Fear By Nicholas Carter
The Great Diamond Syndicate
OR,
THE HARDEST CREW ON RECORD
BY
NICHOLAS CARTER
Author of the celebrated stories of Nick Carter’s adventures,
which are published exclusively in the NEW MAGNET LIBRARY,
conceded to be among the best detective tales ever written.
[Illustration]
STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York
Copyright, 1909
By STREET & SMITH
The Great Diamond Syndicate
(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.
THE GREAT DIAMOND SYNDICATE.
CHAPTER I.
A DARK NIGHT’S WORK.
“Your uncle murdered! It seems incredible!”
Nick Carter leaned back in his chair and looked at his visitor, dismay
showing in his face.
“It is too true, old friend, Uncle Alvin was murdered in his bed last
night, and diamonds to the value of half a million dollars stolen from
the house.”
The speaker, Charley Maynard, was greatly excited. He was a young man
who had arrived at legal age only a few months before. Almost from
boyhood he had been a friend of the man of whom he now sought sympathy
and advice.
“Half a million in diamonds!” echoed the detective. “I was not aware
that Alvin Maynard possessed diamonds to that value.”
“They were mine,” replied the young man.
“The day is full of surprises,” said Nick. “When and how did you become
owner of such a wonderful collection of precious stones?”
“They were delivered to me yesterday, at the residence of my uncle, up
the Hudson,” replied Charley. “I heartily wish I had never set eyes on
them.”
“A present?” asked Nick.
“My inheritance from my father,” was the reply. “As you know, he was
a globe trotter from his youth up. It seems that during a visit to
South Africa he became the possessor of the gems which were stolen last
night. How he came by them I have no idea. I only know that there are
some very fine stones in the collection, and that they were delivered
to me yesterday afternoon. Now they are gone, my uncle lies dead in the
house, my aunt is prostrated with grief, besides suffering severely
from a blow dealt by a brutal assassin, and my cousin, Anton Sawtelle,
lies wounded in his bed. It is a sad house this morning, Mr. Carter.”
“There was a struggle, then?” asked Nick. “The robbers were discovered
at their work and fought for the booty?”
“That is the strangest part of the case,” said the young man. “The
diamonds were stolen from a trunk in my room on the second floor of the
house, and yet I heard nothing of the struggle which must have taken
place. It seems that the burglars entered by way of Anton’s room and
searched the entire floor. Why they should have visited the apartments
of my uncle and aunt is more than I can understand. I am not a heavy
sleeper, yet I heard nothing of the affair until this morning.”
“Was no one able to give the alarm until this morning?” asked Nick.
“Where were the servants? Surely they must have been aroused.”
“They were not,” was the reply, “and the first intimation I had of the
murder of my uncle and the loss of my diamonds was when informed by
Anton of the happenings of the night.”
Nick walked the floor of his room for a moment.
“What did Anton tell you?” he finally asked.
“He said that he heard a noise during the night and arose from his
bed. As he stepped out in the direction of the door opening into the
hall, he was struck a savage blow, from the effects of which he did not
recover until after daylight.”
“And your aunt?”
“She, too, says that she heard a noise and stepped to the door of
her chamber. It was dark in the hallway, but her figure was outlined
against a window in the wall at her back. While standing there,
listening, she was struck on the forehead and rendered unconscious
until morning.”
“And you were asleep on that floor?”
“Yes, sir, directly across the hall from the room occupied by my aunt.
Uncle slept in a room at the front of the house. Anton in a room at the
rear. The two rooms between these were occupied by my aunt and myself,
as I have already stated.”
“The diamonds were in your trunk?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was the trunk locked?”
“No, sir, it was not. You see, we have never been molested before up
there. I was not as cautious as I might have been. However, if the
trunk had been locked, it would have been all the same, I imagine.”
“You might have been awakened by the forcing of the lock,” said the
detective. “It is strange that you did not hear the sound of the blows
which killed your uncle and left your aunt unconscious.”
“I wonder at that,” said the young man, “for I am not usually a heavy
sleeper. But I hope you can come out to the house at once. The sheriff
and two deputies are there, but no one save the coroner has been
admitted to the second floor. Can you come now?”
“Certainly,” was the reply.
“And, another thing,” said the young man, hesitation in his voice, “I
wish you to act as my personal representative in the search for the
diamonds. This may seem to you a selfish request, with the murderer of
my uncle still at large, but it is a matter of great importance to me.
The diamonds constitute my sole inheritance from my father. Nothing can
bring my uncle back to life, but the diamonds, recovered, will make
my future life both useful and happy. Besides, the recovery of the
diamonds must point to the murderer.”
“That does not necessarily follow,” replied Nick. “However, I will do
the best I can for you. You were at your uncle’s yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes; I have been stopping there for a month, at his special request.”
“When and where were the diamonds delivered to you?”
“At uncle’s, at three o’clock. They were brought up from the city by a
special messenger, who took a receipt and returned on the first train
south.”
“When did you open the package containing the diamonds?”
“Immediately.”
“Where did you open them?”
“In the parlor on the first floor.”
“Who was present?”
“Uncle, aunt, Anton, Bernice, aunt’s maid, and myself.”
“Anton is your cousin by marriage only?”
“He is a son of my aunt by a first marriage.”
“I see. Where was he born?”
“In Paris. He has lived there nearly all his life.”
“Were there any servants about when the diamonds were shown? Did the
servants see the diamonds at all?”
“No, sir.”
“Was the arrival of the gems talked of before the servants?”
“To some extent, yes.”
“You were about the grounds in the afternoon?”
“Yes, sir. I remember now that I sat on the side porch a long time,
looking over the lawn and garden on that side of the house.”
“You observed no strangers about?”
“No, sir. Say! Two men came up from the station and passed the house
shortly after the departure of the messenger who had delivered the
diamonds. They passed on about two hundred yards, and then turned
toward the depot. I did not see them again.”
“What sort of appearing men were they?”
“I remember now that their dress and manner gave me the impression that
they were sailors.”
“The sheriff has charge of the case, I presume?”
“Sheriff Walton is there in person. He was notified quite early this
morning at Anton’s request.”
“What direction is his investigation taking?”
“He has made a study of the grounds, and was at the railroad station
when I came away, questioning the agent and the night watchman, who had
been sent for.”
“I am glad he has been kept out of the house,” said the detective.
“I can’t get the thing through my head,” said the young man. “One man
murdered, two persons assaulted and left unconscious, my own room
entered and robbed, and I the only one on the floor not aroused by the
noise. It seems a strange case.”
“Now about the murder of your uncle,” said Nick. “How was the death
wound inflicted?”
“He was struck on the temple with some blunt instrument. He was in his
pajamas and lying across the bed when found. It looks as if he had
arisen to a sitting position when awakened, and was then seized by the
throat. There are marks as though a struggle had taken place.”
“And your aunt?”
“There is a cut over the left eye.”
“Not a serious one?”
“Oh, no. It is difficult, however, to imagine what sort of a weapon
made the cut. It seems to be three-cornered.”
“And Anton?”
“There is no question but that he was struck with a pair of iron
knuckles. The wound shows that plainly enough.”
Nick remained silent for some moments. He was puzzling over the fact
that the gems had been so soon located in the house by the thieves.
“By whom were the diamonds delivered?” he finally asked.
“By a messenger from the American Express office.”
“Who paid the duty?”
“The express company.”
“It must have been a heavy one.”
“It was,” answered the young man. “It took all my little fortune.”
Nick entered the telephone booth and called up the American Express
office. In a few moments he learned that the diamonds had arrived in
New York the previous day at noon on an ocean liner, and that they had
remained in charge of the company only an hour before the departure of
the messenger. No one in the employ of the company, except the man who
had paid the duty and the manager, knew of the valuable contents of the
package.
While the detective was puzzling over the case, Chick entered and was
soon in possession of its main features as known to his chief.
“Where were the diamonds shipped from?” he asked.
“Originally from Cape Town,” replied the young man, “but direct from
Liverpool.”
Chick looked at his chief with a smile on his face.
“It is a pretty case, I imagine,” he said. “The gems must have been
followed from Cape Town.”
“Well, in that case,” said young Maynard, “the man who did the
following made quick work of it after they arrived in this country.
Of course, the route to the hiding place of the murderer must be
discovered by tracing the diamonds. Don’t you think so?” he added,
turning to Nick.
“It will, I think, prove easier to find the murderer than the
diamonds,” said Nick. “The gems may be passed on from hand to hand, or
separated and scattered to the end of the world, while the murderer
cannot halve his crime with any one.”
Nick ordered his automobile, and the three were soon on their way to
the country house on the Hudson where the murder had been committed.
When they reached their destination they found a crowd of curious
suburbanites gathered about the gate, which had been closed and locked
by the sheriff.
The house stood some distance from the road in a grove of elm trees.
A handsomely kept lawn swept down to the iron fence which shut in the
grounds. It was a fine old mansion, with many gables, porches, and odd
corners. The dull red walls were overrun with English ivy.
The detectives ascended at once to the upper floor. The stairs brought
them to a long hallway running just west of the tier of rooms at the
front of the house.
Entering the front room, they found the body of the dead man lying on
the bed. Nick at once bent over it. His impression was that it had been
placed on the bed after the deathblow had been struck, but the coroner
had gone away for a time, and he could ask no questions of him.
“It is worth looking up,” thought Nick.
As the detectives were beginning their work, Sheriff Walton called out
to them from the lower hallway:
“I am going away for a time,” he said, “but I’ll be back. Two
suspicious men took a rig from a local stable last night, and have
not returned it. I think that perhaps they are the men who were here.
You will find that the burglars gained entrance by way of the west
room, and passed on to the front of the house. On the way they got the
diamonds from the trunk in Charley’s room.”
Nick smiled as the sheriff closed the door and took his departure.
“He seems to have solved the case already,” said Chick. “I presume he
has the murderer in sight now. Good luck to him, say I.”
“Here’s something to begin on,” continued Chick, pointing to footprints
in the hallway. “See! There’s been a good deal of travel about here,
and in bare feet. I don’t quite understand this, chief. I can’t see
what it means. We have been told that Mrs. Maynard and Anton lay
unconscious until morning, so I don’t see who did all this walking
about. I don’t believe people came up here barefooted.”
The prints of naked feet led from door to door, and in some places were
quite numerous. They passed from the north room to the south room, back
again, and from the east room to the north room and back again. The
south room was occupied by the owner of the diamonds, the north room by
his aunt, and the east room by Alvin Maynard, who lay dead there at the
time of the visit.
West of the doors of the side rooms, which were exactly opposite each
other, the hall was narrower, and led only to a west room, occupied
by Anton Sawtelle. The marks here were not those of naked feet. The
person in the stockings seemed to have made two trips to the front
room. The other marks might have been made after the discovery of the
crimes of the night.
One thing about the stocking marks struck the detectives as peculiar.
In each instance the outgoing marks were close together, the incoming
marks far apart.
“This chap was in a mighty hurry, coming back,” said Chick
reflectively. “He made the return trips in long jumps. Must have got
scared in the front room.”
“Anton might have visited his father’s room before dressing,” said
Nick, “and discovered the dead body on the bed. That would naturally
give him a fright.”
“But he seems to have gotten two frights,” said Chick, with a grin.
As Chick bent over the tracks Nick moved cautiously toward the front of
the hall. He was certain that he heard footsteps there, that some one
was watching their movements—noting the course their investigation was
taking.
Finally he made a little rush to the front, and was just in time to
see a mass of dark hair disappearing down the stairs. The wearer of the
hair looked back, and Nick saw a pair of handsome black eyes.
“We were watched,” he mused, turning back to the tracks. “The burglars,
we are told, entered by way of Anton’s room.”
The detectives passed down the hall and entered the rear room, after it
had been unlocked from the inside. The young man who had unlocked the
door was already back in bed when the detectives entered. His head was
bandaged and his face was pale as death. His eyes glared unnaturally
from under heavy brows. He was a remarkably handsome man, although
his face, even with the pallor of suffering upon it, showed signs of
dissipation. His features were regular, his hair black and waving, and
his figure slender and muscular.
“I called to you when you were at the door a moment ago,” he said, “but
you did not answer. I presume you are Nick Carter? Yes. Well, I am glad
to see you. Hope you will find the murderer, and also the brute who
gave me this bump on the head. My poor father! He was always a father
to me!”
“All in good time,” said Nick. “We are about to make an examination of
the premises, but would like to ask you a few questions, provided you
are well enough to engage in conversation.”
“I am very much better,” was the reply, “and perfectly able to tell you
all I know about this wretched affair.”
“What time did you go to bed last night?” was the first question.
“About ten o’clock,” was the reply. “We keep early hours up here in the
country, you see,” he added, with a wan smile.
“Did you retire for the night as soon as you came upstairs? What I mean
is, did you move about your room or the hall?”
Sawtelle’s face became flushed, and he hesitated. Although Nick’s
eyes were seemingly not fixed on his face, he noted every change of
expression. What Nick appeared to be looking at was the gravel roof of
a one-story lean-to attached to the building at the west.