THE MYSTERY OF GEORGE SNELL.
Nick Carter had said good-by to his bright young assistant at about
half-past ten of an evening.
He gave little further thought to the case that night, for he knew that
it was in good hands.
“I shall probably hear from the boy in the morning,” he thought, as he
went to bed.
No message came from Patsy in the morning, because the young man had
been too much occupied in watching Snell and Leonard in the Jersey City
station to send one.
But a message came from Dinsmore that gave Nick a bit of a surprise.
It was as follows:
“Important robbery just reported. Don’t know if it is the one you
referred to last night, but it is very important and mysterious. Wish
you would come on.”
Nick took the next train for the West.
Dinsmore’s telegram was sent from Manchester, the capital of Wenonah,
and there, of course, the detective went.
The journey was without incident, and was made as rapidly as possible,
considering that there are no through trains between New York and the
distant Canadian town.
Dinsmore met him at the station.
“I’ve got a telegram for you,” he said, as soon as they had shaken
hands. “It was forwarded from New York, after you left.”
Nick opened and read it. It was the one Patsy had sent from Chicago to
say that he was going with Snell to Helena.
“All right,” said Nick. “Now, what’s the case?”
“It was reported by the lieutenant governor,” replied Dinsmore, “Gov.
Bradley being away. His absence makes the thing very peculiar, and I
don’t understand it at all. How you should know in New York that a
robbery had taken place in Manchester before anybody here suspected
such a thing, is quite a mystery.”
“I believe,” responded Nick, “that I begin to see how that happened.
But go on. Some State papers have disappeared.”
“That’s it, and that’s what makes me suppose it the same affair that
you seemed to have in mind when you telegraphed from New York.”
“Anything else?”
“Do you mean anything else stolen? Not that I am aware of, but the
papers are very important. I thought you ought to come on, as you
seemed to know something of the matter.”
“I am afraid I don’t, but I’m interested. You say there’s been no
abduction, or kidnaping?”
“I didn’t say so, but I know of no such case.”
“Well, tell me all you know about the loss of the papers.”
“That’s very little. The lieutenant governor called me up late on the
night you telegraphed me. In fact, I think it was about two hours after
I had sent my answer.
“‘Dinsmore,’ said he, ‘there’s been a very strange robbery, or
something that looks very much like it. Some papers that cannot be of
value to ordinary thieves, but for which the government would pay a
handsome reward, have disappeared.’”
“I asked him when they were taken.
“‘I’ve no idea,’ he answered. ‘I only discovered the loss this
afternoon.’
“Then I asked him why he had not called on me sooner.
“‘Because,’ he replied, ‘we’ve been hunting high and low for the
papers. We supposed they must be somewhere in the government building.
But we’ve looked everywhere. They’re gone, and that’s all there is to
it.’”
“I thought of your telegram, Nick, but said nothing. After I had asked
the usual questions about where the papers were kept, and so forth, I
inquired if he had any suspicions.
“The questions seemed to make him uneasy.
“‘I cannot suspect anybody,’ he replied.
“I remembered you, Nick, and I said:
“‘That means that you suspect everybody.’”
“What did he say to that?” asked Nick.
“Huh! he smiled in a queer way, and simply said: ‘Well?’ Of course, I
pressed him to be frank with me, but didn’t succeed at first.
“Finally, though, he let the cat out of the bag in a kind of roundabout
way.
“I saw that he actually suspected Gov. Bradley himself.”
“Well!” exclaimed Nick, “that’s rather interesting.”
“Yes—and mysterious. I’ll tell you a fact or two without stopping to
say how I squeezed them from the lieutenant governor.
“Some six or seven weeks ago a man unknown here called on Gov. Bradley.
We know his name was Leonard and that he and the governor had been in
some sort of business deal together years before.
“That much is known, because a part of their conversation was
accidentally overheard.
“Nobody thought anything of it at the time, of course, for it all
seemed natural and straight enough.
“The lieutenant governor heard Leonard asking about some papers of some
kind.
“‘They’re safe,’ Gov. Bradley told him.
“‘That’s all well enough for you to say,’ Leonard responded, ‘but I’d
rather keep them myself. Then I’d know.’”
Dinsmore paused.
“Does anybody know what the governor said to that?” asked Nick.
“He was heard to say something to the effect that that would give
Leonard the whip hand.
“The men were evidently on bad terms, and that is all that is known of
that matter.
“Now, some time later—it is rather more than three weeks ago—Gov.
Bradley left town. He hasn’t been back since.”
“Is there anything strange in that?”
“Not exactly. He went away openly enough. Told everybody that he was
tired and needed rest. That was natural. He also told the lieutenant
governor secretly that he was going to travel without letting anybody
know where he was.
“‘I don’t want to be bothered with letters,’ he said.”
“That was natural enough, too, wasn’t it?”
“I suppose so; but just now the lieutenant governor is putting two and
two together, and I can see that he is suspicious. He hasn’t said so in
so many words, you understand, but that’s what he feels, just the same.”
“You haven’t told me all, Dinsmore.”
“Not quite. Governor Bradley told the lieutenant governor that he would
manage to be within reach at all times, but that his movements and
address must be kept private.
“‘I will take the name of George Snell,’ said he, ‘and keep you
informed where you may telegraph to me, if anything of real importance
comes up.’
“So, for some days, the lieutenant governor received a telegram every
day, saying: ‘Snell, Auditorium, Chicago,’ or ‘Snell, Planter’s, St.
Louis,’ and so forth.
“Then there was a break of a few days, after which came word that
‘Snell’ was at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, New York.
“Meantime, nothing had happened that the lieutenant governor couldn’t
attend to alone.
“Then came the discovery that papers were missing.
“As soon as it was certain that the papers had disappeared, the
lieutenant governor telegraphed the fact to ‘Snell,’ and told him in
the same message that the matter would be placed in my hands.
“If the lieutenant governor had thought twice, he would have called me
up before wiring to Bradley, alias Snell, but he didn’t think quick
enough, and since that time not a word has been heard from ‘Snell.’ And
there you are.”
“I see,” said Nick; “it’s very interesting. When does the next train go
to Helena, Mont.?”
“To Helena! There’s no direct train to that point, in any case; but
what the mischief do you want to go there for?”
“Because that’s where Gov. Bradley is, or where he went. I think,
Dinsmore, that I shall have to hunt for your governor, as well as for
the thieves who stole the papers. I hope I may find the governor alive.”
“Good gracious! what——”
“Look up the trains, please. I want to catch the first that goes.”
With a wondering face, Dinsmore studied a railway guide for a few
minutes.
Presently, he looked at his watch.
“There’s a train in half an hour,” he said, “that will get you pretty
well started, and you can probably make connections that will take you
through so as to reach Helena in about thirty hours. Will that do?”
“How can I tell? I must take that train, and I think, Dinsmore, it
would be as well if you should come along, too.”
“I’ll do it, gladly.”
“Anything to do to get ready?”
“No.”
“Let’s start for the station, then.”
They went out, and on the way Nick asked:
“Dinsmore, do you know anybody in Manchester whose name is Cecil West?”
“Slightly,” replied Dinsmore. “Friend of yours?”
“No, I never saw him. What sort of a man is he?”
“Tiptop, from all I hear. Not rich, you know, but honest and
industrious. First-rate fellow, every way. By the way, he’s in love
with the governor’s daughter, Estelle.”
“So?”
“Yes, and the old man won’t have him. He’s sent the girl away, so as to
keep them from meeting.”
“The governor sent his daughter away, did he?”
“That’s what I hear. She dropped out of sight after a big party at the
governor’s house some five weeks ago, and it is understood that she was
packed off to visit a distant aunt, or something, in the hope that she
would forget young West.”
“I wonder if West hears from her?” mused Nick.
“If he does, he doesn’t say so.”
“Of course not.”
Nothing more was said on this subject, and Dinsmore did not suspect
what was in the detective’s mind.
Nick asked one other question about the case:
“I understand that nothing has been reported, except a theft of
government papers. Is that right?”
“Yes, and I have wondered a little, for in your telegram to me you
mentioned jewelry.”
“I did. I heard some was taken.”
“Nick,” said Dinsmore, “who gave you the tip about all this?”
The detective looked his old friend in the eyes for a moment, and
answered, quietly:
“Gov. Bradley.”
“The deuce you say! Why didn’t you jump on the case?”
“Because I didn’t know till I arrived in Manchester that it was the
governor who called on me. He said his name was Snell. I doubted it,
but I had no suspicion as to who he really was. I could see that he was
holding some facts back, and that made me turn him down. That was where
Bradley made a bad mistake.”
The detective and Dinsmore made good connections, and arrived in Helena
at six o’clock in the evening of the following day.
They began at once to trace the men they wanted to find.
Dinsmore made inquiries for a man answering the description of Gov.
Bradley.
Nick, knowing that Patsy must have come to Helena, hunted for some
trace of him.
He had the more difficult task, for Patsy, of course, had been
disguised when he arrived in the town, and, as Nick presumed, he
changed his disguise almost daily.
Calculating from the telegram, Nick reckoned that Patsy must have
reached Helena on a certain day and by a certain train.
He asked men employed at the station about the passengers who arrived
on that day.
From one he got a tip as to a man who might be Patsy who left his grip
at the station and walked away.
The grip was sent for later, the man said, and was taken to a street
that he named.
Nick went to that street.
He walked the length of it twice.
There was no good hotel on it, but several boarding houses, and any
number of saloons.
Among others was Bronco Bill’s.
Nick looked at it each time he passed.
It was not the first one he entered, but, after dropping in at two
or three other places, he entered Bronco Bill’s place just as the
proprietor was telling a customer about a shooting scrap that had taken
place there recently.
“They wanted to make the tenderfoot dance,” said Bill, grinning, “but
durn me ef he didn’t make them dance and holler afore he got through
with them. Such shootin’ I never did see! I thought ’twould be the last
of Bronco Bill’s house, but the young stranger just brought them crazy
galoots to their senses in no time. Say! he hit a dime——”
And Bill went on to tell the whole story.
“Patsy!” said Nick to himself, as he slowly put down a glass of beer at
the other end of the bar. “I wonder how long it will take Dinsmore to
follow his trail to this joint?”
Nick sat down to wait, and had supper meantime.
Shortly after nine o’clock, Dinsmore came in, looking sour and hopeless.
“Ah! there you are,” said he. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why didn’t you come here, then?” asked Nick.
“Because I didn’t expect to find you here. I seemed to trace a man who
looked like the governor to this hole several times. Plenty said they’d
seen such a man hanging around, but the governor wouldn’t put up in
such a place, not he!”
“It’s where he put up, just the same,” said Nick.
“Who told you?”
“I guessed it. My assistant has been here, and he wouldn’t stay in such
a place, either, unless there was business in it. The business that
brought Patsy here was——”
Nick did not finish.
Instead, he caught up a newspaper and held it in front of Dinsmore.
“Read it!” he whispered, “and don’t show your face!”
Four men were coming in from the street.
One of them was the man whom Nick had known as George Snell.
As the detective was now disguised, he did not hesitate to show his
face.
It looked, however, as if his disguise would have been unnecessary, for
Snell walked quickly across the room and out by a door at the back.
One of the four went with him.
The other two stepped up to the bar and called for drinks.
Snell came back in a short time with the man who had gone out with him.
“Have something?” asked a man at the bar.
“No,” replied Snell; “let’s be going.”
The four then went out at once.
“Great Scott!” whispered Dinsmore, “that was Gov. Bradley’s voice!”
“Of course it was,” replied Nick. “Come on.”
They kept on the track of the four men, and followed them to a house in
a quiet street.
There was a light in the kitchen windows.
“Crooked work here,” whispered Dinsmore.
“Sure!” replied Nick. “We must get a line on it, if possible.”
They had not gone very near the house, presuming that there might be
men on guard who would give warning to the others.
It seemed best to try to get at the kitchen windows from behind, and,
accordingly, they went around to another street, through a yard, and
over a fence.
This took some time, but the lights were still there, and all was quiet
within.
Although the curtains were down, they managed to get a glimpse inside
through a small hole.
It was just enough to show a good many tough-looking men around a
table, with Snell in the middle.
He was counting out a big roll of bills.
“Buying back the papers,” whispered Nick, “and paying the ransom for
his daughter.”
“What! you don’t mean——”
“Miss Bradley was kidnaped. That’s what I mean. Ah! if the governor had
had the sense to tell me the whole truth!”
Nick was thinking.
“There are a good many of them,” whispered Dinsmore; “shall we go to
headquarters for a squad of police?”
“No. They’ll be through in a minute. We must make a bluff, and they’ll
think they’re surrounded. You go to the front door, and I’ll tackle
them here.”