NICK’S ASSISTANT DECAMPS.
Chick knew all about Doctor Follansbee’s tendencies, and had assisted
his chief in an attempt to scrape up sufficient evidence against the
man to warrant some definite action.
They had failed to build up a case that would amount to anything
if brought to trial. To be sure, they could have brought charges
against the head of St. Swithin’s, and placed him before the medical
association, but there was more than one reason for refraining from
that. For one thing, Carter hesitated to stir up a scandal which
would be bound to follow the publication of such charges. Owing to
Follansbee’s great prominence, and the very responsible character of
his position as head of a big hospital, the accusation would tend to
discredit the whole profession more or less, and to shake the public’s
faith in such institutions.
Finally, the detective had always been a firm believer in the right of
a man to have a second chance, especially when he had much to lose.
Follansbee had had his warning, and nothing had happened since to give
the detective and his assistants any particular reason for believing
that he had failed to profit by it. They were by no means sure that he
had, however, and had continued to look out for further trouble in that
direction; consequently, Chick was more than commonly interested in
this chance glimpse of Follansbee.
As for his action in hiding himself behind the newspaper, that was
merely a mechanical sort of routine precaution. There was always
a certain possibility that Follansbee might be up to something
questionable, and if he were in this instance the detective did not
wish to be recognized. That would scare the game away, and his hunter’s
instinct shrank from the possibility of such a catastrophe.
Half a minute later he had cause to congratulate himself on his
presence of mind.
He was not more than twenty feet from the clerk’s desk, which
Follansbee had approached.
“Is Mr. James Stone in?”
The question was put in the doctor’s thin, piping voice, which hardly
carried to Chick, and wrenched a little gasp of amazement from him.
“Stone!” he thought. “That can’t be anybody but Crawford’s partner. The
Buzzard is asking for Stone. What does it mean?”
He strained his ears to catch the reply, but the clerk’s voice was low
and indistinct. A moment later, however, Follansbee remarked audibly:
“All right, I’ll wait for him here in this first sitting room for a few
minutes.”
Manipulating his paper cautiously, so that Follansbee could not see his
entire face, even in the glass, Chick glanced at the latter with one
eye. He was just in time to see the doctor move off and pass into one
of the rooms which opened off from the lobby, the one nearest to the
clerk’s desk.
Chick felt instinctively that the discovery he had made was of
considerable importance. He had come to look upon Follansbee with
suspicion, and he was aware of Stone’s attempts upon Crawford’s life.
To be sure, he also knew that Stone had been advised to consult
a specialist in New York. It might well be, of course, that the
specialist in question was Stephen Follansbee, and that the miner
had gone to him in good faith. The connection between them, however,
whatever it was, seemed to deserve a little more attention. At any
rate, he felt that he ought to inform his chief at once of the fact
that Follansbee had been inquiring for James Stone.
“I’ll have to clear out of this,” he thought, “and I mustn’t let the
Buzzard see me, either. If Crawford should come down and speak to me,
Follansbee might be put on his guard—supposing there’s anything fishy
about his call on Stone. It’s up to me to make tracks before Crawford
comes back.”
He rose to his feet, and as he did so the elevator bell gave a subdued
buzz. The man in charge closed the gate, and the elevator shot upward.
Chick felt morally certain that it was Crawford who had rung the bell,
and was waiting to descend. Another might have laughed at him for the
thought, when the big hotel was well filled with guests, but Chick put
enough faith in it to cause his heart to give a startled bound. Without
a look toward the elevator, he strode along the lobby in the direction
of the door, and hurried out. He had barely disappeared when the car
sank to the level of the ground floor, and Winthrop Crawford emerged.
The miner looked expectantly toward the corner where he had left Nick
Carter’s assistant, and stopped short when he found it vacant. His
bewildered gaze traveled over the whole room, and then he approached a
bell boy who was standing in a near-by doorway.
“Do you happen to know what’s become of the young man I left in that
corner less than five minutes ago?” he asked, pointing to the chair
Chick had occupied.
“He’s just gone out, sir,” was the reply. “He hurried past me just
before you came down, and shot out of the door as if he had been sent
for.”
“Did any one speak to him?”
“No, sir, not that I know. Maybe he just thought of something he had to
do.”
“That’s queer!” Crawford muttered. “I don’t understand it.”
Then he suddenly made up his mind. “See if you can catch him,” he said
to the boy. “Hurry! There’s a dollar in it if you do.”
The bell boy broke into a run, and Crawford hastily followed. When
he reached the street he saw the uniformed boy in full flight after
a slender, well-dressed man who was walking swiftly down the street
to the left. It looked like Chick, but in order to make no mistake,
Crawford halted where he was and looked to the right, then crossed the
street. He saw no one else whose appearance tempted him to follow;
consequently, he strode in the wake of the boy. The latter soon caught
up with his man and spoke to him. Crawford saw the pedestrian halt and
turn about.
“Confound it!” the miner ejaculated under his breath, when he caught
sight of the man’s face. “That isn’t my man. That fool boy has gone off
on a wild-goose chase!”
He remained where he was and waited for the return of the bell boy, who
came back sheepishly.
“It was the wrong man, sir,” the boy explained.
“So I saw,” was the answer. “Well, here’s something for your trouble,
anyway. I can’t imagine how my friend got away so quickly.”
“Thank you, sir!” said the boy, as he possessed himself of a coin.
“Maybe he caught a car.”
“That’s probably what he did,” agreed Crawford.
The boy left him and walked swiftly back to the hotel, but the miner
followed much more slowly. He had been very favorably impressed by
Chick and could not account for his sudden disappearance.
“Did I bore him as much as that?” he wondered. “He might at least have
left some excuse, I should think, even if I had taken up too much of
his time. If he had stayed he could have advised me about Jimmy.”
He had failed to find Stone in his room, and the place seemed to
indicate that his partner had not been there since morning. Yet,
despite his anxiety, he was very reluctant to do anything, since he
knew that if Stone were all right, he would greatly resent anything
which looked like meddling with his affairs. When Crawford returned to
the lobby of the Windermere, however, he found that his brief absence
had brought developments.
These developments were to have considerable bearing on his affairs,
although he was not to know of that for the present. While he was out
of the building, Stone had returned, and had met Doctor Follansbee.
When Crawford reappeared, the clerk beckoned to him.
“Mr. Stone has just come in, Mr. Crawford, and has gone to his room
with a friend,” he was informed.