THE MYSTERY OF ROOM M.
Not until the detective had tied Slack's hands, removed his weapons, a
pistol and knife, and propped him against the wall, did he move away.
After he had bathed his ankle with water found in the kitchen and
satisfied himself that the sprain was not a bad one, Nick opened his
batteries on his prisoner.
"Slack," he said, more in sorrow than in anger, "this is a strange part
for you to play. What has come over you? In San Francisco you were an
honest man, a defender of law and order."
"Every man for himself! that's my motto," replied Slack sullenly.
"That is dodging the question. What have I ever done to you, that you
should jump me?"
"You have stuck your nose into my concerns, that's what you have done,"
was Slack's savage outburst.
Nick looked at the man curiously.
"I think I understand," he said quietly. "You are under the thumb of
Cora Reesey, otherwise Madame Ree. She has taken you into her good
graces again. You came here to meet her. You find her gone, and you get
the notion into your head that I am responsible for her disappearance.
Well, you are wrong. I have had no dealings of any kind with Madame Ree
since her arrival in St. Louis. I had no hand in sending her away, and
I don't know where she is. It is very evident, though, that she has
given you the icy mitt."
Slack's face was a study while Nick was speaking.
"Do you mean to say that you have neither driven her, nor given a tip
to the chief of police which has caused her to be driven from St.
Louis?"
"I am not a liar," returned Nick coldly. "What I say goes with those
who know me."
"I beg your pardon," said Slack humbly. "I have been a fool. I thought
you had mixed up in my affairs--for I'm going to marry Madame Ree--and
I made up my mind to get even."
"When did you arrive in town?"
"Yesterday. Cora was expecting me; had written me to come. I found her
gone. I learned from a police officer of my acquaintance that you were
here, and I at once connected Cora's disappearance with your presence."
"You saw me quite by accident, didn't you?"
"Yes. I have been laying for you all day. I hired these rooms, and my
plan was to lure you here, jump you, and keep you a prisoner until I
had found Cora, who might deal with you as she liked."
"You were not holding out an alluring prospect for me, Slack," said
Nick dryly.
"I was mad, crazy," said Slack penitently. His manner since his fight
with the great detective had undergone a complete change. He was no
longer aggressive, vindictive. The good in his disposition was coming
uppermost. Nick saw that he was in condition for full confession, but
to obtain it he took the least offensive way.
"See here, Slack," said he, in a friendly tone, "you will have reason
to congratulate yourself over this affair of to-day. And it is due to
your good luck that you did not meet Madame Ree on your arrival. She
wrote to you to come, not because she loves you, but for the reason
that she wanted help in an unlawful undertaking. Money is her passion.
You ought to know that."
Slack winced slightly. Nick went on: "She may have revealed to you what
her plans were, and she may have held out a bait which you swallowed.
Now, without having seen her, without having interfered with her in the
slightest degree, I know what her plans were, and my knowledge has come
through events associated with the disappearance of John Dashwood and
the suicide of Luke Filbon. If you have read the newspapers, you know
something concerning these matters."
"I have read the papers, and I know what the public knows."
"Very well. Now I'll tell you something which the public does not
know." Then Nick proceeded to lay bare the blackmailing scheme which
Cora Reesey, alias Madame Ree, had concocted with Gabriel Leonard as
the victim.
"If she got fifteen thousand dollars from Leonard," said Slack, with a
black frown, "she has skipped the country."
"She got it, all right. I am entirely satisfied on that point."
"Then I'm sure in the soup," was Slack's desponding utterance. "She
wanted me to come and help her out, but she has corralled the money
without my assistance, and now she has no use for me."
"It looks that way, doesn't it? If she really meant to deal squarely
with you, she would have written a letter after she had closed the deal
with Leonard."
"That's right. I see it all now. I'm a double-distilled jackass." Then
his face hardened and his eyes gleamed cruelly. "I may meet her some
day," he said, "and if I do, I'll"--he clenched his hands--"I'll make
her wish she had never been born."
After a pause, he added: "I know enough now to send her to prison."
Nick, taking counsel with himself, stepped forward and cut the cords
which bound Slack's hand. "Now you may talk with more ease," he said.
"Thank you." Slack opened and shut his hands several times to get the
blood in proper circulation, and then resumed his story: "I know what
her hold on Leonard is, and it's partly sham."
Nick's eyes glistened.
"You assisted her in preparing it, didn't you?"
"Yes; and if you'll go easy with me on the bughouse break I made
to-day, I'll tell you all about it."
"It's a whack," said Nick instantly.
"Then here goes: The claim she pretends to have on Leonard embraces
bigamy and embezzlement. She well knew, if Leonard refused to come to
her terms and she published what she held in her hand as alleged facts,
that, though Leonard's reputation might suffer, he could never be
proceeded against criminally."
The word "bigamy" brought a shadow to Nick Carter's face, for his mind
reverted instantly to the fair, gentle daughter of Leonard, Mrs. John
Dashwood. The shadow lifted before Slack had finished his narrative.
"Leonard, whose real name is Reesey, went to California in the early
fifties," said Slack, "and while there married an Italian woman, a
widow with one child. Her name was Massona. Shortly after her marriage
with Reesey, and before the birth of her daughter, her husband
embezzled the funds of a mining company, of which he was secretary, and
skipped the State. Instead of returning to his former home in Ohio, he
went to St. Louis, assumed the name of Leonard, and engaged in business.
"Years passed, and, perhaps believing his Italian wife to be dead, he
married again. When Cora Reesey, his daughter by the Italian wife,
reached womanhood, she discovered by secret inquiry that her father was
alive and in St. Louis. But she died before she could make practical
use of her knowledge. While on her sickbed she confided what she had
discovered to her cousin and intimate friend, Lucia Massona. This
cousin is an adventuress, a woman of surpassing beauty and an evil
heart. She resolved to profit by what she had learned, and when she
left the up-country mining town where her cousin had lived and died she
took the name of the dead one, and, as Cora Reesey, appeared in San
Francisco.
"In that city she laid her plans for blackmailing Gabriel Leonard. I,
in my senseless infatuation for her, promised and gave assistance in
preparing the proofs. I soon discovered that she had no criminal case
against Leonard, for her aunt, Mrs. Reesey, had died three days prior
to her husband's second marriage. This fact did not disconcert her, for
she believed that Leonard did not know whether his Italian wife was
alive or dead when he contracted his St. Louis marriage, and that the
spurious documents which she had prepared would be accepted as genuine.
The embezzlement matter, of course, was outlawed. But the threat to
publish the facts would be sufficient, she thought, to bring him to
terms.
"Cora went on to St. Louis after correspondence with Leonard, with the
understanding that I was to follow on receipt of a letter which she
promised to write soon after arrival here. The letter reached me five
days ago, and I came on without an instant's loss of time. That is the
story, Mr. Carter."
Nick looked at his watch.
"Time I was going," he said, and moved toward the door.
"Am I free to go, too?" asked Slack, in a respectful tone.
"Certainly you are. Take care of yourself, keep out of mischief, is all
the advice I have to give."
"But," looking at the detective shyly, "I may meet Cora; she may throw
her grappling-hooks on me again, and I may put her wise about you and
what you know."
"I'll trust you," said Nick, with a smile.
"Sure you are not afraid I may fall down?"
"Not in the least, Slack. Good-by."
Nick limped out of the building, and half an hour later was in his room
on Jefferson Avenue. Chick, to his satisfaction, was there to meet him.
His face shone with excitement and pleasure. "Great news, Nick," he
said. "I've located Leonard."
"Where is he?" Nick's face was now as bright as Chick's.
"In a big brick building used as a private sanatorium, beyond the
southern limits of the city."
"Doctor Holcomb runs this sanatorium, doesn't he?"
"Yes," regarding the great detective in astonishment. "How did you
know?"
"I obtained a list of Leonard's friends to-day, and among them, as the
closest and most intimate of all, is the name of Doctor Holcomb. He was
a mining partner of Leonard in California many years ago. I have been
anxious to see you, Chick, so that I might put you on, but you have
already done the trick. You are a wonder, Chick."
The young detective blushed with pleasure.
"The building is set in the middle of spacious grounds, and is well
guarded. Its appearance excited my curiosity, and I made a few cautious
inquiries before venturing near the main gate. I was made up as a
hobo, as you know, and I was giving the guard outside the gate a fill
about experiences on the road, when a closed carriage drove up and two
men alighted. One I took to be Doctor Holcomb; the other, from your
description, I identified as Gabriel Leonard. They did not notice me,
and I slipped out of sight while the guard was opening the gate."
"I wonder where Leonard and the doctor had been?" said Nick
thoughtfully. "Perhaps Leonard had been hiding out of the city, and had
got a note to his friend, the doctor, and the doctor went to bring him
to safer quarters."
"That's it, Nick, I'll bet."
"Is this sanatorium near the river?"
"Yes; the grounds extend to the levee. And now, what's the program?
Shall we notify the chief, get a force of men, go out there, surround
the place, and catch our man?"
"No. Such a move might spoil all. Leonard at bay might commit suicide.
I want his confession. And I want something else. I have in mind a plan
which, I think, will bring us victory. About this outside man at the
sanatorium, is he an American?"
"No, a Swede, with long, fair hair, and whiskers to match."
"Are his duties confined to the outside?"
"It's turn about with the attendants. I learned this when I struck the
Swede for a dime. He refused, and told me to tackle the man whose turn
for outside duty would come to-morrow."
"'I tank he ban easy,' he said."
"Then the Swede is not easy. Therefore, he cares for money. But how to
reach him? We don't even know his name."
"I know it," said Chick. "Doctor Holcomb called him Detson."
"Ah! now I see daylight. Go down-stairs and borrow a directory, Chick."
When the directory was before him, Nick turned to the D's and found two
Detsons, one a spinster dressmaker, called Hannah, the other a hospital
attendant, called Christian.
"Hannah is probably the sister, and lives on Locust Street. My ankle
troubles me, or I would go over there myself."
"I'll go; it's only a few blocks," said Chick. "What shall I say to
her?"
"If she proves to be Christian's sister, ask her how often she sees
her brother, and when. Christian may have regular hours for visiting
his sister. Perhaps he comes every day. I hope he does. In explanation
of your questions, say a friend of yours wishes to see her brother on
important business."
Chick was gone an hour. When he returned he was whistling.
"Christian is the brother, all right," he said to Nick, "and he will be
at his sister's this evening. Hours from eight to ten o'clock."
"Good. And did you learn anything about Christian's affairs, and family
history, and so forth? I did not ask you to go into any such matters,
for I knew you would take advantage of circumstances and get all there
was coming to you."
"Say, she is a peach, Nick," returned Chick, enthusiastically. "A
pretty, plump, flaxen-haired angel. Her brother is the apple of her
eye. He is saving up money to send for the old mother in Sweden, and
she is helping all she can. I hadn't been with her ten minutes before
she was telling me the story of her life."
"Then the way is easy, Chick. Christian will jump at the chance of
securing a neat sum in a lump. But he must first be assured that
he will be doing a creditable thing. If he is on the square, as he
probably is, from your account, I think I can convince him that in
assisting me he is not only benefiting himself, but is also doing a
commendable act."
The two detectives then put their heads together, conversing together
earnestly until dinner-time came. That evening Nick had a long and
satisfactory talk with Christian Detson.
"Dey ban some man ho would yump at dat chance," he said, at the end of
the conversation, "but ay look bayfore ay do any yumpin'. Ay tank ay
see where ay ban land vurst."
Late in the afternoon of the next day Doctor Holcomb received a new
patient, a young man of powerful physique, who gave no trouble, for
his mania was not a violent one. The certificate which his conductors,
two well-known business men of St. Louis, presented set forth that he
was suffering from acute dementia. His face was drawn, his eyes were
lusterless, and his mouth gave a clicking sound, but no words came,
whenever he was spoken to.
"I don't think there is any hope for him," said Doctor Holcomb to the
men who had brought the subject, "for dementia such as he is afflicted
with is generally the last stage before death. He may live a year, he
may die in a month."
"I would ask," said one of the men, Major Haines, a lawyer, "that you
do not confine him. He is of good family, and we are willing to pay
well for his care. As you must know, from your experience with such
cases, he is perfectly harmless. But he cannot take care of himself.
He needs the attention that is given to a child. You need not give him
the run of the grounds, though you might do so with entire safety, but
I shall be pleased if he is given the run of the building, locking him
up, of course, every night."
"There is no objection to such an arrangement," said the doctor. "The
attendants about will see that he does not get into trouble."
And so the matter was arranged which installed James Winters as an
inmate of Doctor Holcomb's sanatorium.
For an hour after his entrance the demented patient sat upon the floor
of one of the corridors and played with his hands. Attendants passed
him without a glance, for they were used to such sights. At noon he was
taken into a small room intended for his future use and given some soup
and potatoes. Apparently, he did not know how to put the food into his
mouth, and had to be assisted, as a babe newly weaned would have been.
About the middle of the afternoon, while he was in a small corridor,
which, opening out of a larger one, terminated at the side wall, an
attendant marvelously like the Swede Chick had accosted outside the
gate the day before came up and spoke to him in a low voice.
"How does it go, Chick? Have you made any discoveries?"
"I know where Leonard's room is, Nick. He has been out of it twice
to-day; once to see the doctor, and once to enter Room M, a few doors
beyond his own. And how are you making out?"
"My task is harder than yours, Chick. My disguise is good. I have got
the lay of the wards and rooms, and my duties are understood, thanks to
Detson; but I have to dodge the other attendants whenever I can, for
there is the possibility that some sharp eyes may spot the imposture.
We must, if possible, finish our work here within twenty-four hours.
I'd like to have the round-up take place to-day."
"Do you anticipate any trouble?"
"No; Doctor Holcomb enjoys a good reputation, and I am satisfied
that he will not interfere with the course of justice. Leonard is an
old-time friend of his, and he has, without doubt, been imposed upon.
He does not know, of course, that Leonard is suspected of murder. He
is harboring his friend, but with the idea, I believe, that Leonard is
simply dodging his creditors."
The sound of steps along the long, wide corridor stopped Nick Carter's
talk with his assistant. Leaving Chick, the detective went forward, and
saw Doctor Holcomb in the act of ascending the stairs to the second
story. Half-way up he stopped, frowned, and then turned back. At the
foot of the stairs his eyes fell on the person of the bogus Swede.
"Detson," he called out sharply, "I wish you would keep in sight. I
have forgotten my instrument-case. Go to the office, tell my assistant
to give it to you, and when you get it bring it to Room M."
"Ay tank ay ban go queeck," said Nick, and away he hurried to the
office. Soon, with the case in his hand, he went up the stairs, found
the room, knocked at the door with an impatience which he had much
difficulty in repressing. Doctor Holcomb opened the door, and the
detective tried to peer into the room. To his disappointment, he was
unable to see more than the foot of a bed, upon which some person was
lying. The doctor received the instrument-case, uttered a curt "Thank
you," and quickly closed the door.
Nick would have remained by the door, but a moment after it closed
Gabriel Leonard opened the door of a room opposite the head of the
stairs and came toward him. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were
marks of suffering on his face. The detective passed him half-way to
the stairs, but Leonard did not look at the pseudo Detson. With his
head bent, he walked quickly to Room M, and entered without knocking.
Nick hastened down-stairs, saw Chick, and, seizing an opportunity when
the corridor was clear, whispered a few rapid words. Chick nodded his
head in comprehension, and, leaving the great detective, slouched
along the corridor, mounted the stairs, and walked toward Room M. Once
there, he sat down with his back against the door. He had been in that
position about fifteen minutes, when conversation inside caused him
to prick up his ears. He waited with every sense alert, and his heart
beating at an unusual rate for ten minutes more; then, rising to his
feet, flew, rather than ran, until he reached Nick.
"Well," said the great detective quickly, his curiosity on edge.
"You were right, then, Nick," said Chick, in a gasp. "The mystery will
be solved in Room M. I have heard them talk. The last words of Leonard
were: 'The hour has come. Now, good-by to St. Louis.'"