A CLEVER WOMAN.
“There is no knowing where the trail may lead you,” Chick said
presently.
“I am in hope,” said Nick, “that it will lead again to the headquarters
of the Great Diamond Syndicate. I have an idea that I would like a
short talk with the man I met in the Houston Street house last night.”
“I wonder what’s become of the alleged reporter?” asked Chick. “He
appeared to me to be rather an amusing chap.”
“You’ll probably find him with the old duffer who entertained Nick last
night,” suggested Patsy. “Listen! I think they are passing out.”
The people in the private parlor were indeed leaving the room, one at a
time, and quietly. There was no talking in the hall, and the door was
closed after every departure. Nick smiled at the game he was playing.
“These syndicate fellows are all right,” he said. “It is something
worth while when you get up against fellows who meet at first-class
hotels instead of in some dark basement in the slums!”
The door to the private room opened and closed again. Nick, who was at
the transom, motioned, and Patsy slipped out into the hall and stood
some distance from the door.
“There are only two left in the room now,” said Nick. “They are
Mantelle and a woman.”
Again the door opened, and Mantelle stepped out. The woman was a few
paces behind him, but still in the room.
Patsy stepped forward from the other end of the hall.
“I was just going to the parlor, sir,” he said. “I have a message for
you.”
“Deliver it,” said Julius shortly.
“A call, rather,” said Patsy, correcting his mistake.
“Well?”
“It is a request to call at room fourteen. That is it, there at the
right.”
Julius made a motion with his hand, and the woman closed the door of
the private parlor. He then stepped up to the door of fourteen and
knocked lightly on the panel.
“You asked for me?” he said, as Chick opened the door.
Nick was nowhere in sight. The messenger followed on as Julius stepped
into the room.
It all took place in a second, and Mantelle lay bound, gagged, and
panting on the carpet.
“That was quietly done,” said Nick, stepping out of a closet. “I was
afraid the noise might attract attention.”
Mantelle almost foamed with rage as he saw Nick, dressed so exactly
like himself that it would seem that his best friends must be deceived.
Chick mounted a chair and looked through the transom.
“You must be going,” he said presently. “The woman in the parlor is
becoming anxious and keeps opening the door a crack.”
Nick bent over Mantelle, lying helpless on the floor, and took a
peculiar-looking pin from his scarf. Then he took a diamond ring from
the prisoner’s little finger.
Mantelle squirmed under his bonds, but could not resist.
“I can use these to good advantage,” said Nick. “And, by the way,
Mantelle, I think I have seen these before.”
The prisoner looked as if a little cursing would relieve his mind, but
he did not at that time have the power to make a loud sound.
“The woman is at the door,” said Chick.
Nick opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
“I was detained a moment in that room,” he said, as the woman advanced
to meet him.
Julius foamed as he realized how exactly the voice reproduced his own.
“Looks all right, doesn’t he?” asked Chick, as he closed the door.
“Now, when they get to the end of the hall, Patsy, you follow on, and
I’ll see that this fellow is locked up.”
Patsy moved away, and was soon in full view of Nick and his companion.
They were standing in front of a clothing house, and the woman was
urging him to make some purchases.
The woman had apparently not even glanced at Nick as he appeared in
the hall in the guise of Mantelle. She had walked at his side until
they were clear of the hotel without speaking. Now she said:
“It is plain that we must leave the city for a time.”
“I presume so,” said Nick.
The woman walked along in silence while Nick wondered what was coming
next. He saw no reason for sudden flight on the part of the members of
the syndicate; that is, unless they had learned something of his plans.
“I don’t see why that police detective suspected you,” continued the
woman. “Why don’t you change your clothes and make yourself look
different? You poke around in that black suit, looking like a preacher.
Fix your hair different, and put on a sporty air. You look too solemn.”
“I must go back to my room to do that,” said Nick, realizing that this
was just the thing he ought to do—get to Mantelle’s rooms. But it was
not in the mind of the woman that he should reach that suite of rooms.
“Here is a clothing store,” she said. “Go in and buy what you need.
You must not go back to the rooms now. The hotel is probably watched.
It’s a wonder we all got away from there as we did after the meeting.
You buy what you need here, and I’ll wait in front of the store. Change
your appearance as much as possible.”
Nick was sorely puzzled. Why should the woman want him to change his
clothes? She understood that the officers knew Mantelle, and that they
would find him if they wanted to do so in whatever suit he might put
on. Was it her purpose to escape when he went into the store to change
his clothes? That was a risk he could not run, and he hesitated at the
store door. Then a messenger in uniform paused at the door, looked at
the number, and passed on.
“That’s Patsy, all right,” thought Nick; “here’s for the new clothes.
She can’t get away so long as he is here. This is a mystery, but I’ll
solve it!”
Nick selected a large, light-colored suit, and put it on over the
Mantelle disguise. The hat he retained, for he could not very well
conceal the derby he had worn. When he left the dressing room he seemed
like another person. The woman looked pleased, and asked where the
other clothes were.
“I have them where I can get them again,” was the reply.
Once more in the street, the woman turned at the corner of Houston
and walked in the direction of the East River. She seemed strangely
agitated over something, and more than once Nick thought she was
laughing immoderately.
The detective began to think he had caught a Tartar. At least, he could
not make up his mind as to what was coming off next.
The house she presently entered was in the same block with the ruins of
the burned headquarters of the Great Diamond Syndicate.
She led the way up a staircase, and entered a suite of rooms which
faced the street. Closing the door, she laid aside her hat and coat and
faced the detective with a smile.
She was a handsome woman, tall, slender, and fair of face, but
certainly not the one Nick had seen at the café with Mantelle. She said:
“Well, Mr. Nick Carter!”
Nick sprang back, but before he could draw a weapon he found himself
looking into the muzzle of a loaded revolver. The woman certainly had
the drop on him! Then a young man came from an inner room and took
the revolver while the woman went through the form of securing Nick’s
wrists. The detective did not resist. He knew that he could release
himself from his bonds at any time. They were not of the kind used by
the chief of the Great Diamond Syndicate.
This accomplished, the woman stepped back and looked the detective over
contemptuously.
“You thought I wouldn’t recognize you?” she asked.
“I certainly did,” was the reply. “How did you account for my wearing
Mantelle’s jewelry?”
“I imagined what had taken place in room fourteen. You are a man of
action, Mr. Carter, but you have your failings. You neglected to give
the sign when we met in the hall.”
“I was wondering if there were signs and grips,” said Nick. “Rather a
clever lot of thieves and murderers.”
“Don’t become coarse,” said the woman. “Of course we have signs and
grips.”
Then Nick recalled a sign Mantelle had made at the café when the
waiters came to the private room. It was nothing more than dropping the
left hand straight at the side and pointing down with the index finger,
the others being closed.
Nick knew that he was in no little peril. It was true that he could
cast off his bonds at any time, and might even be able to outwit the
woman and her companion, but he knew well enough that other members of
the syndicate were about.
“Are you waiting for some one?” asked Nick, as the woman walked about
the room.
“Yes; I am waiting for Mantelle,” was the reply.
“You will find him in the Tombs,” said Nick.
“Your plans do not appear to be working to perfection in this case,”
said the woman mockingly. “Mantelle will be rescued on the way to
prison.”
“And when he arrives here?”
“Then you will be executed. We shall take no more chances. Do you know
that you have given us more trouble than any dozen men ever did?”
“Executed,” repeated the detective. “You use a fine word to describe
the crime of murder.”
“Executed is the word. You were condemned to death a long time ago.”
Nick glanced about the room. There seemed to be no way out except by
the door at which he had entered. The woman noticed his scrutiny of the
place, and said:
“Oh, we have taken good care that you shall not slip us again. Even if
you could get out of the room, you would be killed in the street. Our
men are warned, and are anxious to dispose of you.”
“It seems to me,” said Nick, “that I have heard talk something like
that before, and in this case, too. Is it the habit of the syndicate to
explain its plans to prisoners who are condemned to death? You appear
to me to be quite frank in your statements.”
“The chief made a mistake in talking to you last night, or this
morning, rather,” replied the woman. “It made us no end of trouble
to-day.”
The woman arose and walked to the window. To the detective she seemed
to be getting nervous.
“Do you know,” said Nick presently, “that I think you are putting up a
bluff, and that you are talking against time? Is Mantelle late?”
“He’ll be here,” was the reply.
“It would be something of a consolation to me,” said Nick, “to know
just how you managed to scatter the news of my capture. The others were
gone when we left the hotel, before you suspected me, and you have
talked with no one since we started.”
The woman laughed heartily.
“What do you suppose I got you into that clothing store for, and into
the dressing room? I am agreeably disappointed in you. I thought you
much keener.”
“Then you discovered my identity at once, in the hotel, and summoned
your friends while I was changing my clothes? That’s clever! What a
capital detective you would have made. I should not have left you
alone for an instant. You might have escaped. But, then, we all make
mistakes.”
Nick waited anxiously, half expecting the woman to mention the presence
of Patsy while she sat at the front of the store. Patsy had certainly
been there, but had the woman noted his presence? It was a consolation
to the detective to know that the assistant was not far off.
“I was afraid you would escape,” laughed the woman. “You took the hook
easily, Mr. Carter.”
“You are a clever woman,” replied Nick. “I give you the credit of
getting the best of me up to date. What next, if I may ask?”
“If you could look out of the window,” said the woman, facing Houston
Street, “you would see three men lounging in front of a saloon. They
are waiting for signals from this room. Do you begin to realize what
a power the Great Diamond Syndicate is? When the waving of a red
handkerchief announces that you are dead they will go away. But they
won’t expect that signal until they see Mantelle enter the house.”
The detective had no doubt that Patsy was also watching the windows of
that house. He would have given much to have communicated with him for
an instant.
He arose as if to walk to the window. The young man who held the
revolver moved forward into the front room.
“Get back to your chair,” he said, “or we won’t wait for Mantelle. I
prefer to do the job right now, anyway. Get back!”
The fellow’s tone nettled the detective. Almost before he realized what
he was doing, he burst his bonds and sprang at the man. There was a
sharp report and a puff of smoke.
Then the woman, who had turned from the window in alarm, saw the young
man lying unconscious on the floor, and saw, also, that the detective
was no longer bound.
Nick gazed at the woman steadily for a second.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” he said. “It is not the office of a
gentleman to bind and gag a woman, yet something must be done.”
The woman gazed anxiously in the direction of the door.
“Don’t expect Mantelle,” said Nick. “He is in the Tombs by this time.”
Then a step sounded in the hall outside.
“He is coming!” cried the woman.
Nick lifted his revolver.
“I hope so,” he said.
The woman gave a scream of warning.
Then the door opened, and a messenger’s uniform showed in the opening.
Patsy was evidently in great haste, and closed the door after him with
a bang.
“Those fellows across the street are suspicious,” he said. “I should
not have made a break to get up here except for the pistol shot. Are
you hurt?”
“Not in the least,” replied Nick. “Are the watchers coming up here?”
“They started across the street just behind me.”
“Watch the woman!”
Nick sprang to the front window. The red silk handkerchief lay in a
chair, ready for use as a signal.
Nick lifted the lower sash and threw the end out to the breeze. It
floated for a second in the strong light of the street, and then Nick
dropped it. As it fluttered to the pavement below, the detective caught
an exclamation of joy from a group of three men standing at the very
entrance to the house.
“There you are,” said Nick, turning back into the room with a smile.
“I am now dead, and our three cutthroats will go away. How are you
feeling now, madam?” he added, speaking to the woman, who had thrown
herself into a chair and sat looking at the two men with rage and hate
in her eyes.
While Patsy watched the prisoner, Nick made a search of the rooms.
He found letters and telegrams by the score. His conclusion was that
the Great Diamond Syndicate was using the rooms as headquarters.
As he opened a locked drawer in a small secretary, the woman sprang to
her feet and fought desperately.
“They are private papers there,” she cried. “If you are a gentleman,
let them alone. Let them alone, I tell you!”
“Private papers!” echoed Nick. “I should say so! The private papers of
the Great Diamond Syndicate! This is indeed a find!”
The woman fell back on the floor in a faint.
“This looks like easy money!” smiled Patsy, with a grin.