DOWN TO CASES.
Nick Carter had a way of making himself felt under such circumstances.
His impressive remarks were immediately effective. The Englishman turned
even more pale and grave, gazing apprehensively at the detective, while
he replied, with agitated voice:
“You’re deucedly well right. I’d be a blooming idiot, Mr. Carter, if I
couldn’t see that. Come into the house, sir, and I’ll tell you the whole
beastly business. Your word is as good as a Bank of England note, sir,
and I’ll keep nothing from you.”
“You have decided wisely,” said Nick, while they mounted the steps. “In
so far as the circumstances permit, I shall consider your disclosure
strictly confidential.”
“That’s mighty kind, sir, and I’ll pay you handsomely.”
“Payment is an afterconsideration. I will accept no more than my
services warrant.”
“You’re deucedly clever, old top, and I’m proud to know you. Some jolly
good fairy must have sent you my way in an hour of need. Come up to my
room, sir.”
The Englishman had opened the door with a latchkey, and he now led the
way to an attractively furnished room on the second floor.
Among the first articles to catch Nick’s eye, amid other evidence of
feminine taste and sentiment, were two artistic photographs on the
mantel. One was a likeness of his companion.
The other was that of a very beautiful girl still under twenty, a face
that reflected culture and vivacity, and the winsome features and
expression of which, with the finely poised head and shapely shoulders,
might have been the ideal of a Raphael or Correggio.
Nick at once inferred rightly that this was the girl who apparently had
been spirited away so boldly, as well as mysteriously, in so far as a
motive had yet appeared.
The young Englishman looked disappointed when Nick’s prediction was
verified, his wife not being found there, and he at once waved the
detective to a chair, saying with nervous haste and in his own peculiar
fashion, which was much less frivolous than appears:
“You were jolly well right, Mr. Carter, and I’m confoundedly upset. What
the devil can a poor chap do? I’m going to tell you all about it. How
the dickens did you know, old top, that my name isn’t Archie Waldron?”
“Because you hesitated when I questioned you,” said Nick. “No man would
shrink from stating his true name under such circumstances.”
“Dash it! that was blasted clever, don’t you know? I was a fall guy not
to think of that. But you hit the bally nail on the nob. My name is not
Waldron, ’pon my honor. I’m the fifth son of the Earl of Eggleston, and
an only son by his second wife, the late Countess of Waldmere, from whom
I got my title and a bally bit of a fortune. She died when I was born,
and I became Lord Waldmere.”
“I suspected something of the kind,” Nick replied. “I find that I sized
you up correctly.”
“Did you really, now? Well, that’s deuced kind and clever, ’pon my word.
What’s to be done, my dear fellow? We can’t stay here, old top, while
Mollie----”
“Now, Lord Waldmere, you’re talking,” Nick interrupted. “We must get
down to rock-bottom as quickly as possible. You must leave me to
determine what shall be done. I know more about New York and its
deviltry than you could possibly imagine.”
“That’s jolly well right, sir, of course.”
“All I require of you, Waldmere, is to tell me a straight story, as
briefly as possible,” Nick added familiarly. “What are you doing over
here? Who was your American wife? Why are you living under an assumed
name in a New York boarding house? Tell me all about it with as few
words as possible.”
Nick then obtained a straight story, in so far as the essential facts
were concerned, but not without comments and digressions, from which
Lord Waldmere appeared utterly unable to refrain, and which divested his
story of anything like desirable brevity.
Briefly stated, however, it appeared that his young lordship, who in
most respects was a worthy representative of one of the wealthy and most
conservative families of the English aristocracy, had fallen deeply in
love with a beautiful American chorus girl about three months before,
who then was one of an American opera company singing in London.
In spite of the violent opposition and threats of his father, Lord
Waldmere had married the girl, one Mary Royal, then only nineteen, but a
girl of remarkable beauty and many accomplishments, and of unblemished
and enviable reputation.
What followed was in line with the old, old story. His lordship was
promptly disowned and disinherited. He at once left England and came to
America with his bride, already having small interests in several
Colorado mines, and bent upon investing in others a part of his personal
fortune, which amounted to something like fifty thousand pounds, then
tied up in English securities and mortgages.
Lord Waldmere had remained only ten days in New York after his arrival.
He then went to Colorado with his wife to investigate various mining
properties, concerning which he already was partly informed, and in
which he anticipated investing quite heavily.
Lack of ready money, however, and his inability to realize immediately
upon his home investments, had led him to take an unusual step, one
taken upon the suggestion and advice of his wife, pending receipt of
funds from a London agent.
Lord Waldmere had, in fact, raised ten thousand dollars by placing in
pawn with the Imperial Loan Company his wife’s valuable jewels, given to
her before her marriage, and valued at about thirty thousand dollars.
This not only had been done upon his wife’s suggestion, but she also had
made the deal and conducted the entire transaction, having had far more
experience and being of a much more practical business mind than her
husband himself. All of this money had since been invested in Colorado.
Returning to New a week before, Waldmere then communicated by cable with
his London agent, who, during the interval, had converted some of his
lordship’s property into cash, and drafts were immediately sent him
more than doubly sufficient to redeem the pledged jewels.
These funds had arrived that afternoon and were immediately placed on
deposit. A little later Waldmere went with his wife to the office of the
Imperial Loan Company to redeem the jewels, arriving there soon after
five o’clock.
They were told, however, that the jewels were in a time-lock vault that
had just been closed for the day, and which could not be opened until
nine o’clock the following morning, when the jewels could be redeemed
and the transaction ended.
This was perfectly satisfactory under the circumstances, of course, and
Lady Waldmere promised to call with her husband the following morning.
It was while they were returning to the boarding house, however, that
they were separated in the extraordinary manner described.
Such was his lordship’s story, told in his own peculiar way, and to
which Nick Carter very attentively listened. It revealed the truth in so
far as Waldmere could reveal it--but it by no means explained the
disappearance of her ladyship, the beautiful American chorus girl for
whom Waldmere had lost his heart and sacrificed his prestige.
Nick smiled somewhat significantly when the Englishman had finished. He
glanced at the photograph on the mantel, remarking agreeably:
“Well, well, Waldmere, you were hard hit indeed by the pretty American
girl. In view of the incentive to many of our international marriages,
your conduct is really quite refreshing. I rather like you for it. That
is a photograph of Lady Waldmere, I infer.”
“Yes, taken in London,” bowed Waldmere, evidently deeply pleased with
the detective’s comments.
“A very beautiful girl, indeed.”
“She jolly well is, Mr. Carter, and worthy of----”
“Of all your devotion, Waldmere, no doubt,” Nick familiarly interrupted.
“But we must not drift away from the matter. We must get onto our job
and stick to it, or valuable time may be lost.”
“I agree with you.”
“None of the circumstances you have stated seem to present, on the
surface at least, any reasonable explanation of what has occurred, nor
any consistent motive for felonious designs upon her,” Nick added.
“Unless she soon returns, nevertheless, there can be no doubt that she
is a victim of knavery of some kind, that does not appear on the
surface. Let me ask you a few questions. I then may hit upon some theory
to fit the case.”
“That’s a ripping good idea, old top,” Lord Waldmere nodded. “Come on
with them.”
“To begin with, then, has your wife many acquaintances here in town?”
“Hardly any, sir, ’pon my word. She is a Kentucky girl, and has spent
but little time in this bally city. We have met none during either of
our visits. We live very privately.”
“It is quite improbable, then, that the occupant of the taxicab was a
friend, or even an acquaintance,” Nick pointed out. “Deception having
been employed, therefore, we must assume that she was forcibly carried
away. That also appears in the fact that you think the driver thrust
her into the cab.”
“I’m deuced well sure of that, Mr. Carter,” Waldmere again declared.
“The bally bounder placed his hand squarely on her shoulder, sir, and
gave her a push. I can almost swear to that. If she----”
“Let me do most of the talking, Waldmere,” Nick interrupted. “I wish to
get at the salient points as quickly as possible. Answer me with merely
an affirmative, or negative, when you can.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Has your father, or any of your family, ever threatened the girl
because of your marriage?” Nick then inquired. “In other words,
Waldmere, do you believe any of them capable of a conspiracy against
her?”
“No, sir,” protested the Englishman quickly. “They are above anything of
that kind. Besides, Mr. Carter, they have jolly well cast us both out.
No one knows where to find us.”
“You think, then, that they may be safely eliminated from any connection
with this affair?”
“Yes, absolutely.”
“We must seek nearer home, then, for a motive,” said Nick. “Had Miss
Royal any former admirer who might----”
“No, no; nothing of the kind.” Lord Waldmere quickly shook his head.
“Her sweet heart has been an open book for me to read at will. There is
nothing in that, sir.”
“And you recall no incentive, or circumstance, that might have a bearing
upon this matter?”
“No, none, Mr. Carter.”
“Let’s consider, then, the one nearest to it--your visit to the Imperial
Loan Company,” said Nick. “I think you said that Lady Waldmere did most
of the business.”
“She did the whole blooming business,” Lord Waldmere quickly assured
him. “She’s jolly well fitted for it, is Mollie, while I’m a doughhead
and----”
“I understand,” Nick cut in. “You went with her to redeem the jewels,
which had been pledged for ten thousand dollars. Did she have the money
on her person? That may have been the incentive for the crime, if such
it turns out to be.”
“But that can’t be, don’t you know?” Waldmere at once protested. “Mollie
had the bally ticket for the pledge, but she had no money. I had a
certified bank check for the amount. Here it is, sir. See for yourself.”
Nick merely glanced at the check, which Lord Waldmere hastily drew from
his pocketbook. It bore the current date and corroborated the
Englishman’s statements.
“It seems to knock that theory on the head,” Nick said thoughtfully,
after a moment. “Nevertheless, by Jove, it may be that the jewels----”
Nick broke off abruptly, not stating what he had in mind. Instead,
drawing forward in his chair, he said, more earnestly:
“By the way, Lord Waldmere, did your wife transact this business under
her own name, or a fictitious one?”
“An assumed name, of course.”
“The one by which you are known here?”
“No. She used another.”
“What was it?”
Lord Waldmere scratched his head, staring desperately at the carpet for
several moments.
“Dash it, sir! I’ve jolly well forgotten,” he cried dubiously. “’Pon my
honor, Mr. Carter, I can’t remember.”
“Rack your brains for a moment,” Nick suggested, though he had no great
hope of any desirable result.
“Hang it, sir! I’m giving them a ripping racking. But Mollie always kept
the bally ticket, you see, and I had no hand in the blooming business.
She has a head for it, don’t you know, and I always let her run things
for me. Blast it, sir, I can’t remember!”
“Well, well, never mind,” Nick said, a bit bluntly. “Whom did you see in
the loan office?”
“The jolly manager, I think.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“’Pon my word, sir, I don’t,” said Waldmere, with a groan over his
inability to be of any material aid. “I don’t know that I heard his
bally name, sir, as far as that goes. Molly did all of the talking.”
“What was said, or done?”
“Very little, sir, ’pon my word. Mollie turned in the ticket to a dinky
clerk in a window. He took it to a back room, as I remember, and in
about five minutes the bally manager came out.”
“What did he say?” Nick inquired.
“He said as how the jewels were in the vault, which had been closed
about five o’clock for the day, and that it couldn’t be opened until
to-morrow morning.”
“He stated that it had a time lock, didn’t he?”
“Exactly. That’s just what he said.”
“And that your wife could redeem the jewels if she were to call
to-morrow morning?”
“Precisely,” Lord Waldmere nodded. “That’s all there was to the blooming
business.”
Nick did not feel so sure of it. He saw plainly, however, that there was
nothing more to be learned from the titled Englishman, who obviously
knew as little of business as a lad in knickerbockers.
More than an hour had passed since the episode on the avenue. There was
no indication of Lady Waldmere’s return, nor did Nick really expect it.
He glanced at his watch and found that it was nearly seven o’clock.
“Dash it! I’m deucedly upset,” Waldmere remarked, and he really looked
so. “What the dickens am I to do? What----”
Nick interrupted him kindly, but impressively.
“There is only one wise thing for you to do, Lord Waldmere,” said he.
“You must leave this matter to me and do precisely what I direct. If
your wife has been abducted, or is a victim of other knavery, I will
leave no stone unturned to find her and punish the crooks. I can
accomplish both, perhaps, while you would surely fail.”
“You’re jolly well right, Mr. Carter, as far as that goes,” Waldmere
frankly admitted.
“You must see, then, that my advice is sound,” said Nick. “I will take
the case, if you wish, but you must promise to follow my instructions.”
“That’s deucedly kind, sir, and I’ll do so. I will, sir, ’pon my honor.”
“Very good,” said Nick. Give the matter no publicity, then, at present.
Remain here quietly until to-morrow morning, stating to others in the
house merely that your wife is away for a short time. I don’t want the
matter to reach the newspapers.”
“Dear me, no!”
“Be silent, then, and discreet. Here is a card with my address and
telephone number. Is there a telephone in this house?”
“There is, sir,” Waldmere nodded.
“If your wife returns before morning, then, call up my office and inform
whomever answers you,” Nick directed. “That would probably end the
matter. If she does not return, however, which now seems more probable,
you may expect me here at half past eight to-morrow morning. I then will
begin a thorough investigation. In other words, Lord Waldmere, I’m going
at this like a bull at a gate.”
The last was added chiefly to encourage the down-hearted Englishman,
who, strange to say, appeared to detect it. For he pulled himself
together with a manly effort, then adjusted his monocle to gaze more
intently at the detective, whose hand he warmly grasped with both of
his.
“’Pon my honor, old top, I can’t find words to thank you,” he said
gratefully. “I really can’t, don’t you know.”
“Don’t try, Lord Waldmere,” Nick replied, pressing his hand. “Merely do
only what I have directed. Keep a stiff upper lip and leave this matter
to me. I’ll call the turn, all right, as sure as you’re a foot high.”