DEATH COMES TOO SOON.
“So that he won’t know his own name when he is able to be about again!”
Nick knew very well what that meant. The sailor was to be beaten, and
imprisoned, and drugged, and frightened, until he became crazed; and
then turned out into the world again. Even if some faint glimmerings
of what had taken place should come to him, no one would credit the
statement of a half-crazed sailor, who, as would be believed, came by
his infirmity on the high seas and had forgotten!
“It is devilish!” muttered the detective. “I wonder how I am going to
get at the fellow before they quite kill his intelligence?”
Locked in the unconscious brain of the sailor was the story of the
taking of the diamonds, if not the story of the murder of Alvin Maynard.
If he could only communicate with Patsy, sitting there in the saloon
with the other party to the robbery! If Patsy only knew, then the
whole thing would be easy.
The fact that the diamond merchant had been implicated in the robbery
could not aid the detective at that time. He had no proof except the
words of the sailor he had heard while listening on the stairs. But all
in good time the necessary evidence would be found, he was certain of
that.
Nick might now do one of two things.
One was to remain in the basement, and get to the sailor after he had
been dumped down the shaft. Wounded and in fear of death, the man would
be likely to tell all he knew about the diamond robbery.
The other was to force his way out of the basement and take the sailor
with Patsy into custody. This man probably knew as much of the affair
as the other.
After studying the matter over, Nick decided to remain and assist the
sailor out of the den he was in. The other man might prove sullen and
refuse to talk after being placed under arrest. Besides, humanity
prompted the detective to help the wounded sailor. Only that such a
course would have placed Hartley on his guard and defeated all his
plans, Nick would have beaten down the door and rushed to the rescue
of the sailor then and there. In fact, this was his first idea, but he
quickly saw that to do so would be to imperil the success of the case.
But it was not entirely in the hope of recovering the diamonds that the
detective decided to remain where he was.
There might be peril in remaining, but there were things to be cleared
up of more importance than the recovery of the diamonds.
The sailor might be able to throw some light on the strange murder of
Alvin Maynard.
At least he would be able to tell how the diamonds had been secured,
and to explain the situation in the house at the time of his visit.
He was positive that the robbers had not passed beyond Anton’s room,
and he wanted an account of what had taken place there.
There were many things to be explained, and the sailors were the only
ones who would be apt to tell the truth.
Presently a noise like that made by dragging a heavy body over the
floor came from the private room just over Nick’s head.
The paid assassin of the diamond merchant was about to complete his
task.
Just at this moment the workmen employed at the front of the basement
extinguished their light and went away. Their departure gave Nick an
opportunity to work out a plan which had been forming in his brain.
The sailor was undoubtedly badly wounded now, and would, of course, be
still further hurt by a long drop into the sub-basement.
Nick wanted to get at the man while he was in good shape—while he could
talk of the events of the previous night.
A long board lay on one of the packing boxes, and the detective took
this and carried it to the shaft.
“I’ll switch the victim off their trunk line to death or insanity,”
thought Nick, “if my usual luck will hold for a few minutes.”
The board was wide as well as long, and perfectly smooth on one side.
Bracing one end against the wall of the shaft opposite the door, the
detective placed the other against a heavy box, which he dragged up to
the dark doorway.
“Now, my cunning friends,” he mused, “your sailor will strike this
slanting board when you dump him into the shaft and be shunted into
this basement. I hope they will dump him in without throwing a flash of
light into the shaft. That might spoil everything, as it would disclose
the presence of the board and might make it necessary for me to do a
little shooting.”
Satisfied as to the utility of his plan, the detective stood in the
open doorway, and waited. Before long he heard a sound at the trapdoor
above, and a gleam of light appeared. Nick almost held his breath. If
they should take a notion to look down the shaft, his plans would be
ruined. But they did not. It was a gruesome place at best, and the
associations were probably far from pleasant, so they just lifted the
trap in the floor above and threw the sailor down.
Nick knew by the movements above, plainly heard as being directly over
his head, that the man had been taken from the rear room to the hall
and there disposed of. It was pitch dark in the basement, so those
above could not see that the door was open.
In a second the unconscious man came tumbling down, and Nick stood
ready to direct the fall into the basement where he stood. The man
struck the plank, which gave a trifle under the weight, and slid
swiftly toward the door. There was not room on either side of the plank
to fall off.
“This is great business for the heart of New York City,” thought Nick,
as he caught the sailor in his arms. “Now, I wonder how badly this man
is injured?”
He flashed a gleam from his flash on the man’s face, which was covered
with blood, and saw that his eyes were opening. Then the man raised his
head and tried to speak. The detective lifted him higher and bent his
ear to catch the sound.
“There was no killin’,” the man muttered.
“But the man up there is dead,” whispered Nick, in the man’s ear. “Who
did the killing?”
“We did not,” was the faint reply.
“Where did you get the diamonds?” asked Nick, seeing that the man had
been fatally wounded by the savage blow of the bully, and could not
last much longer.
“We watched an’ got them from——”
That was all. It was only a dead man that lay in the detective’s arms.
The sailor had died with the secret on his lips, when one more word
would have set everything straight.
There was now but one thing for the detective to do, and that was to
reach Patsy and the other sailor, and take the latter into custody. He
was guilty only of robbery, and might be induced to tell the truth by
promises of leniency. Besides, he would doubtless be greatly enraged
at the murder of his companion, and this might cause him to relate not
only the events of the night at the Maynard house, but also the deal
with Hartley. For the murder of the sailor, Hartley and the bully could
be called to account later.
Nick ascended the stairs to the rear room, listened at the door,
opened it a trifle, and looked inside. There was no one there, and the
only light came through a transom over the door leading to the store.
Crossing the room softly, Nick came to a door opening into the hall. It
was through this doorway that the sailor had been carried on the way
to the shaft.
Nick lifted the trap and looked down. All was dark and still below, and
a swirl of foul air came up into his face. His flash showed the board
to be in position.
“I came near making a blunder there,” he mused. “If they see that they
will know that their secret is known, and flee. I must go back.”
The detective hastened to the basement, returned the board to the place
from which it had been taken, and arranged the body so as to give the
impression that it had fallen through the doorway instead of proceeding
down the shaft. Then he opened a door leading to the sub-basement, left
the door to the store floor open, and passed on to the hall again.
“They will never suspect that the sailor did not fall into the first
basement,” he thought, “and they may believe that I found my way out of
the place where they dumped me, or thought they dumped me. However, we
must get the bully under lock and key as soon as possible. It is the
electric chair for him. Hartley must be watched until we know more
about the diamond deal.”
At the rear of the hall in which Nick now found himself, a staircase
led to the second floor. As Nick started to ascend it in the darkness,
a man came rushing down and almost fell over him. Nick quickly stepped
aside, and the fellow, who was panting as from a long run or a
struggle, passed on to the door of the rear room, and entered.
While Nick waited, wondering if it was now safe to attempt the ascent
of the stairs, there was a rush of feet in the store in front and angry
voices came to the ears of the listener.
“I tell you he came in here,” Nick heard a voice say. “You’ve hidden
him somewhere.”
“Some street row,” thought Nick.
All was still on the second floor when Nick reached the head of the
stairs, and in a moment he was in the street. About the first person he
saw there was Patsy. There was an excited crowd in front of the store,
and policemen were guarding the door.
“What is it?” asked Nick.
“They did up my sailor,” was the reply. “Where is your man?”
“Dead,” was the reply. “And yours?”
“Gone to the hospital with a smash on the head that would have killed
an ox,” was the reply. “I don’t think he’ll ever get over it.”
“How did it happen?” asked Nick.
“Well, we got tired of waiting for you, and came and stood in front
of the shop, here. Presently a tough mug of a fellow came out and
looked us over. Then he went back and whispered with the clerk, and a
gray-haired man was called into the conversation. We could see them
through the window, and noted that they were all very much excited.”
Nick began to understand.
“Then the tough mug came out and began picking a quarrel with us. The
sailor was drunk and made a dash at him. He got a thump on the head
that will hold him for a long time, I reckon, and then the tough came
at me. I gave him one in the eye, and he turned and ran away. I think
he went up the stairway, but the mob says he went into the store.”
“He is probably cursing the clerk good and plenty by this time,” said
Nick. “I figure it out that the clerk thought he dumped the other
sailor’s partner when he dumped me, and so imagined that both were
provided for. Then, when the bully saw the other one on the street with
you, he understood that something must be done, for he knew too much
about the diamond deal, and would be making inquiries for his partner,
who had entered this place not long before.”
“And his partner is dead?” asked Patsy.
“Dead down there in the cellar,” said Nick.
“And the bully thought that both parties to the diamond deal were down
there, all safe and beyond the power of harm?”
“That is about it.”
“Well,” said Patsy, “if one is dead, the rascals are safe for a time,
all right, for the other will not be out of the hospital for a long
time, and may not know his own name when he does come out. He got a
fierce smash on the front of the head.”
“It was evidently the purpose to craze the man,” said Nick. “That seems
to be a cheerful way these fellows have. Well, this leaves us in bad
shape. I know now that the two sailors took the diamonds from the
Maynard house, but I don’t know where the diamonds are any more than I
did an hour ago. Again, these men might have thrown some light on the
murder of Alvin Maynard. That is now impossible, for one is dead and
the other may never regain his senses.”
“This man Hartley seems to be playing a close game,” said Patsy.
“Dumped you, did they?”
Nick explained very briefly what had taken place in Hartley’s
establishment.
“So the diamonds are actually lost?” asked Patsy.
“It seems so,” was the reply. “The sailors got them, in what manner I
hope soon to learn, and turned them over to the agent. The agent put
them in his trunk in their presence and checked them to New York. When
the trunk got to Hartley’s the diamonds were gone, and a counterfeit
package lay in the trunk. And it seems that both the sailor and the
agent went to Hartley for their pay, which they would not have done if
they had played him false. It is a great mix-up, and the finding of the
men who took the diamonds from the house seems to have little bearing
on the finding of the man who killed Alvin Maynard.”
“There must be some common-sense solution,” said Patsy.
“I have thought,” said Nick, “that the sailors took from the house a
package supposed to contain the diamonds, but I can’t imagine them
traveling to the station and turning over what they had to the agent
without knowing whether they had the gems or not. They would not trust
to appearances—such men never do.”
“Chick may learn something up at the Maynard house,” suggested Patsy.
“In the meantime,” said Nick, “we ought to get our hand on that bully
and lock him up. But this should be done without letting Hartley know
that he has been arrested. Now, I am going up to the Maynard house
to-night, and I want you to manage the arrest of the bully. String a
line of men around the whole block, if necessary, but _get him_! I’ll
be back in the morning. And, when you arrest the fellow, don’t let him
communicate with any one. Hartley would make a jump for liberty that
might give us a long chase.”
It was eight o’clock when the detective left a train at the little
suburban railroad station. Chick stood on the platform waiting for him.
“What’s the news?” asked the chief.
“Unless I am much mistaken,” was the reply, “the diamonds are still
about the house. If they are not, there are a lot of lunatics up there.”
“For instance?”
“Well, Mrs. Maynard seems to have recovered from her fits. At any rate,
she sits in the parlor and watches Anton every minute of the time. If
he goes to his room she makes an errand upstairs. If he goes out into
the grounds she is not far away.”
“Go on,” said Nick.
“And Anton seems to be keeping his eye on the maid, Bernice. He goes
where she is as often as he decently can, and once I heard them
quarreling in the shrubbery.”
“Then you think Mrs. Maynard suspects Anton?”
“I don’t know if she suspects him of the robbery and the murder, but I
believe she thinks he knows all about the events of that night. You
know she was about the house herself, and took the diamonds from the
trunk.”
“That is the way we figured it out this morning,” said Nick, thinking
of the girl Anton had inquired for at the depot.
“I guess that is settled,” said Chick.
“Nothing is settled until the case is ended,” replied Nick. “For
instance, you speak of the diamonds being here in the house at this
moment. What if I tell you that I heard a man admit taking them and
turning them over to one of Hartley’s agents?”
“Is that a fact?” asked Chick, in surprise.
Nick then related, in brief, the story of the afternoon’s work.
“Here is the mystery,” said Chick. “How did the men get the diamonds?
They did not penetrate the house farther than the west room. Who gave
them the gems, then? And who killed Alvin Maynard? Again, the burglars
were not in a position to do it! They never got to that front room.
Were there two sets of criminals in the house last night, each acting
with a different purpose in view?”
Nick smiled, but attempted no explanation.
He had his own notion about things, but he was not ready to tell the
story of the crime, even to his assistant.
The detectives were now walking side by side under the orchard trees,
perhaps fifty yards back of the house. They had followed the track
taken in the morning.
It was a moonlight night, but there were heavy banks of clouds in the
sky, and now and then the landscape was in darkness.
“Here we are at the path leading to the house,” said Nick, “and we may
as well find out what Charley Maynard is thinking of. How does he take
the loss of his diamonds now that the excitement has worn off?”
“Like the sensible fellow that he is,” was the reply. “And it has been
discovered that he is not broke if he never gets the diamonds. He was
Alvin’s favorite, and the old man was rich. Charley gets a couple of
millions.”
“Then he can well afford to take the matter coolly,” said Nick, “for——”
But the sentence was never finished.
Two revolver shots came from a thicket in the orchard.
Then, in the moonlight, two spiral puffs of smoke crept upward.
It was a close call, but the bullets did no harm.