MORE SURPRISES.
“The alleged reporter,” said Nick, “was probably waiting about the
house. He knew that a murder had been committed, and his orders
probably were to get a line on what was being done. He might have
bribed the clerk or the boy; probably he did.”
“Yes, that is the story,” said Chick. “The syndicate did not expect
that a murder would be necessary, and those in charge of the case were
alarmed. They doubtless had a notion that they would be all right if
they could only get you out of the way.”
“What about this Mantelle?” asked Nick.
“Do you think he is in the game?”
“He made the appointment which kept Maynard downtown with his
diamonds,” was the reply, “and he made it only when he knew that the
diamonds were in sight.”
“But he was not at the café until after Townsend left,” said the
assistant.
“Anyway, we’ll look him up,” said Nick.
“There is one thing certain,” said Chick, “and that is, the case will
be won if Maynard ever recovers so as to be able to give the names of
the people he saw in room forty-four before he was struck down.”
“We can’t afford to wait for that,” said Nick. “The robbers and the
murderer must be caught at once, if at all.”
“And the diamonds?”
“I am no longer interested in the diamonds.”
This conversation had taken place, in low tones, in the hallway near
to the door of room 43. The hall was deserted except for a chambermaid
loitering at the farther end. It was too early for the guests to be
astir.
Nick now unlocked the door to room 43, and stepped inside.
As he did so, a lady, who occupied room 42, directly across the
hallway, opened her door, and called to the maid.
She handed her a piece of silver as she came up to where she stood,
leaning out into the corridor.
“Kindly go to the office and ask for mail for Mrs. Morton,” she said.
The maid hastened away.
Then Mrs. Morton stepped across the hall, and stood before the door of
room 43.
Nick had not yet left the door, but was standing close to it on the
inside. As the woman approached, he listened for a moment, and then
opened the door.
The woman started back in dismay.
“Something you want?” asked Nick, with a smile.
The woman, who was young and far from ill-looking, blushed prettily.
“I’m ashamed of myself,” she said, “but I really wanted to know what
was going on in the murder case, and so I listened. I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Nick.
The woman sought her room, and Nick turned back to his assistant.
“There is a clever crook,” he said.
“I wonder how she got here so soon?” remarked Chick.
“You might go down and talk with the clerk,” said Nick. “I’ll wager
that she came here after the assault on Maynard.”
While Nick made a second and more searching examination of the room,
Chick talked with the night clerk, who still insisted on hanging about
the place.
“The woman came here from the Grand Central Station in a carriage at
seven-thirty,” said the clerk. “She registered from Chicago, as you
see. No, there was no mail for her when the maid called. What other
errand did she give the maid?”
“None whatever,” replied the assistant. “At least none that we heard.”
“Well,” said the clerk, “after making the inquiry at the desk, the maid
went out to the café next to the reading room and talked with one of
the waiters.”
“You’ll not lose by giving out that information,” said Chick.
Before the astonished clerk could make reply, Chick was upstairs in the
room Nick was searching.
“We are in a storm centre of the Great Diamond Syndicate,” said Nick,
when informed of the acts of the maid. “This is a fine place to fish
for clues.”
“But how can the maid be in the employ of the syndicate?” asked Chick.
“Up to this time the thieves have had no use for any one in this house.”
“We’ll pass on that when the time comes,” said Nick. “See what I found
in this room.”
The detectives were standing in room 44.
“Red hair,” said Chick.
“Look at it with this glass.”
Chick did so.
“What do you find?” asked Nick.
“Bleached,” was the short reply.
“Exactly!”
Nick took more red hairs from his pocketbook.
“I find,” he said, “that these are from a wig.”
“Where did you get those?”
“In room forty-three, last night. They were in the brush and on the
collar of the coat the murderer wore.”
“And these hairs were found in this room?”
“There on the carpet.”
“And that means——”
“That the woman who committed the murder came back here and tried to
find out what was going on. She found the room deserted, and entered.”
“There were two of them,” said Chick, pointing to a lock of black curly
hair on the floor, “and one was a man, and Maynard grappled with him.”
“Exactly,” said Nick, “and some one let her in, or let them in, rather.”
“And that some one knew that Maynard was being murdered!”
“It’s a puzzle,” replied Nick. “I can’t for the life of me see how the
Great Diamond Syndicate got into action here so quickly.”
“Money,” said Chick.
“I guess the chief thief didn’t exaggerate much when he told me of the
efficiency of his gang,” said Nick.
The detective made a little package of the articles he wished to take
with him, and the two descended to the office floor. The night clerk
was nowhere in sight. The day clerk was all attention.
“A strange thing has just happened,” he said. “Our night elevator boy
was badly injured near here by the falling of a heavy jar from a high
window. He had been out on some errand, it seems, and was returning.”
“Do you know when he left the hotel?” asked Nick.
“Before I came on watch.”
“Do you think he was returning to the hotel?”
“I don’t know about that. He might not have been.”
“Where was the boy taken?”
“To a hospital not far from the scene of the accident,” was the reply.
The detectives hurried to the place where the boy had been injured, and
learned from the officer on the beat the name of the institution to
which the boy had been taken.
In a short time Nick and Chick stood in a private room of the
establishment, making an examination of the clothing worn by the boy,
who had not yet recovered consciousness.
For a time they searched in vain.
Then, at the front of the coat, appeared a narrow slit. In this was a
folded paper bearing an address, and the one word:
“Scatter!”
It seemed impossible to ascertain where the boy had put in his time
between the hour of leaving the hotel and the hour of his disaster.
The address was that of a cheap lodging house off the Bowery, but
little could be learned there.
The tough clerk said that the boy had talked with one or two lodgers,
and gone away.
“A warning from the syndicate,” said Chick. “They are up to date in
their methods, it appears.”
There was silence between the two as they walked back to the house from
which the jar had fallen.
“It was intended murder,” said Chick. “Just a cold-blooded crime.”
“Well?”
“The syndicate had bribed him and used him, and were afraid he would
not keep his tongue between his teeth,” said Chick.
“Don’t jump at conclusions,” said Nick. “Accidents of this sort are
not uncommon in New York.”
“Are you going to the room from which the jar fell?” asked the
assistant.
“Right now,” was the reply. “We may be able to get some sort of
information from the people of the building.”
“The Great Diamond Syndicate may have gotten ahead of us,” said Chick.
“Say, but that must be a hot concern. They burn houses and try to knock
out whoever gets in their way. I wonder if anything will eventually
happen to that smart chambermaid?”