THE GIRL WHO WAS DOWN.
Suspicions were mingled with Nick Carter’s surprise at seeing Nancy
Nordeck. They were perfectly natural, too, under the circumstances, and
in view of the disclosures to which he had just listened. The presence
of a girl with a criminal record in the home of a man whose death was
shrouded in mystery, much more of a mystery than Mrs. Darling even
imagined, though already keenly appreciated by the detective, might
indeed be significant.
Months had passed since Nick last saw Nancy Nordeck. She had so improved
in looks that he hardly recognized her. She bore little likeness to the
frail girl with pinched and haggard face, who was so deeply affected by
the violent death of her crook father that she had resolved to reform, a
moral awakening that Nick had by no means felt sure would be lasting.
His first thought, therefore, was that she might be up to her old tricks
and in league with rascals to have killed Cyrus Darling to get
possession of his fortune. It was not in Nick’s nature to expose the
girl, nevertheless, if her reformation was genuine, for he never put a
block in the way of any one who was down and striving to rise.
He felt for a moment that his position might be a delicate one, but
though no signs of them appeared in his face, his impressions evidently
were suspected by the girl. For she approached him quickly, saying
respectfully, yet with characteristic assurance:
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Carter, and no one could blame you.
But there’s nothing in it, sir. I’ve been as straight as a string from
the time you set me right and shook hands with me, wishing me all kinds
of good luck, and you couldn’t think if you tried how much I now care
for you and your good opinion. I have hid nothing here, sir. Mrs.
Darling knows all about me and what I was, and she’s been as good to me
as you, sir. I’d bite a finger off before I’d go crooked again in any
way.”
“I think you can safely depend upon that, Mr. Carter,” said Mrs.
Darling, smiling faintly. “Nancy has confided her entire past to me, and
in overlooking it and lending her a helping hand, I now know positively
that I made no mistake. She is a good girl and a capable one.”
There was a suspicious moisture in Nancy’s brown eyes, then fixed upon
the strong, kindly face of her mistress. She colored deeply, too, when
Nick extended his hand and said heartily:
“Come here, Nancy. Let’s shake again. I’m more than glad to hear this
and to know you are on the right track. Stick to it, my girl, as I now
feel sure you will.”
“You may be sure that I will, Mr. Carter,” said Nancy, eagerly shaking
his hand.
“Now let’s proceed with this matter,” Nick said, more seriously. “Mrs.
Darling tells me that you advised her to appeal to me?”
“So I did, Mr. Carter,” Nancy replied.
“She will answer any questions you care to ask her,” Mrs. Darling put
in.
“To begin with, then, what do you know about the case?” said Nick. “Was
it you who last saw Mr. Darling alive?”
“Yes, sir. I saw him leaving the house and going down back of the
stable.”
“Did you notice anything unusual? Did he appear excited, or----”
“No, sir; not in the least,” put in Nancy. “I didn’t reckon anything
wrong was coming off. I didn’t get wise at all until the mistress told
me that most of the master’s money is missing.”
“Wise to what, Nancy?”
“That he was killed and robbed, mebbe, instead of putting out his own
light.”
“Why did you suspect that?”
“Only because of two guys he has been friendly with lately. They have
been here to see him, one of them quite a number of times.”
“Two men?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know them?” Nick inquired, turning to Mrs. Darling.
“Hardly more than by name,” she replied. “My husband introduced me to
one of them, named Philip Floyd, who has called several times to see
him. I have met the other only once.”
“What is his name?” asked Nick, proceeding to write them in his
notebook.
“Ralph Sheldon. He called here a few days ago with Mr. Floyd, who
introduced me to him. My husband was absent at the time and they
remained only a few minutes. That is the only time I ever saw Mr.
Sheldon, though my husband had frequently mentioned him.”
“Are they old friends of his?”
“Quite the contrary. I never heard of them until about a month ago.”
“Had they any business relations with your husband?”
“I cannot say.”
“Do you know anything about them?”
“No more than I have told you,” said Mrs. Darling. “My husband referred
to them only as friends, and he appeared to think well of them.”
“Do you know where they live?”
“I do not.”
“Both were here, you say, a few days before he died.”
“The day before, Mr. Carter, and both attended his funeral.”
“Did they say why they wanted to see him on the day preceding his
death?”
“They did not. I inferred from their remarks, however, that it was only
a friendly call.”
“Are they men of his own age?”
“I would say that Mr. Sheldon is nearly as old. He appears to be in the
forties. Mr. Floyd, however, is not over thirty.”
“Are they prepossessing men?”
“Yes, in a way, though I did not quite fancy them,” said Mrs. Darling.
“As for Nancy--well, she may speak for herself. It was partly her
impression of them that led me to take her advice and appeal to you.”
“On the dead, Mr. Carter, I would not trust either of them as far as I
could throw a bull by the tail,” Nancy bluntly declared, in
characteristic terms. “You know me, sir. I am not easily fooled. I can
read a man dead right nine times out of ten, Mr. Carter, the minute I
set my eyes on him.”
“You did not fancy them, then?”
“Not so you’d notice it,” said Nancy. “I wouldn’t say too much against
the Sheldon man, Mr. Carter, for I’ve seen him only twice. I saw him at
the funeral, and I let him in with Mr. Floyd a few days before. He’s all
right, mebbe, though I’d hate to bank much on it.”
“What about Mr. Floyd? Why do you distrust him so seriously?”
“I have more than one reason for that hunch,” said Nancy inelegantly.
“For a starter, Mr. Carter, I’ve seen that guy before.”
“Floyd?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When and where, Nancy?”
“Give it up. On the dead, sir, I can’t tell.”
“But you feel sure of it?”
“Surest thing you know,” said Nancy confidently. “I’d stake my bundle on
it, Mr. Carter, and you know what that means, knowing what I was. Any
man I knew in the past was most likely a crook.”
Nick did not contradict her.
“Besides, he knew me, sir, the first time. I let him in here,” Nancy
went on. “I was wise to that, all right, but it wasn’t for me to meddle
with the master’s affairs. So I kept my trap closed.”
“Why did you think Floyd recognized you?”
“I saw his lamps light up the instant they lit on me,” Nancy explained,
in characteristic terms. “He looked at me like he saw a ghost.”
“Did he say anything to you?”
“No, not a word, Mr. Carter. But no man with eyes like his is on the
level. I know what I’m saying. It’s like breaking sticks for me to pick
out a crook from a bunch of men. Floyd is one, Mr. Carter, if ever there
was one, and that’s why I got the mistress to send for you. I don’t
forget what you did in that Maybrick case--and what you did for me, sir,
never!”
“I’m quite sure of it, Nancy,” Nick replied. “You can tell me no more
about the two men, I infer.”
“No, sir.”
“That is all, then. I will look deeper into this matter, Mrs. Darling,
if you wish me to do so, under one condition.”
“Any conditions you see fit to impose, Mr. Carter,” she replied
gratefully.
“You must leave the case entirely to me, aside from the instructions you
already have given your lawyer and Doctor Lyons. I will see and inform
both of them of our arrangements.”
“Very well. I leave it all to you.”
“And say nothing about it to others,” Nick added. “There must be no
publicity at present.”
“I am more than anxious to avoid it,” Mrs. Darling assured him.
Nick arose and took his hat from the table.
“I am going to have a look at the ruins of the boathouse,” he said. “If
you will show me the way----”
“I will send Nancy with you.”
“I prefer to go alone,” Nick objected. “I will return in a very few
minutes.”
He left the house by the rear door, passing around the stable and down
the river bank. All that remained at the boathouse and its contents was
a heap of charred, black ruins. The ground near by was covered with
footprints of many persons who had visited the tragic scene, but none of
them were of material significance.
Nick wanted only to view the surroundings, however, and he saw with a
glance that the spot was so shut in by the hill in the rear and the
trees on either side, that knaves selecting it for the murder of
Darling, if such was his fate, would have incurred only chance
observation by persons on the river, against which effective precautions
could easily have been taken.
Scarce ten minutes had passed when Nick returned and rejoined Mrs.
Darling in the library. He then obtained from her a description of Floyd
and Sheldon, the only two persons then seeming to invite suspicion, and
he also asked to see a photograph of her husband.
“I know of only one in existence, Mr. Carter,” she replied. “That was
taken the year after our marriage. It is still a very good likeness of
him. It is in our album. I will get it for you.”
She brought the volume and opened it on the library table--only to
search it vainly.
The photograph of Mr. Cyrus Darling had disappeared.