HOW NICK SIZED IT UP.
Nick Carter entered his Madison Avenue residence at four o’clock that
afternoon and hurried into his library, in which Chick Carter and Patsy
Garvan were awaiting him.
Their investigations in the Hotel Westgate had ended abruptly
temporarily some time before. They had been productive of no more than
has appeared. No additional clews were discovered. No trace of the
stolen jewel cases had been found, nor any evidence or testimony
obtained pointing to the identity of the thief, aside from that
involving Chester Clayton, the one most important man in the house, and
the only one, in fact, or a perfect counterfeit of him, could so have
obtained the jewel cases from the hotel vault.
Numerous persons had been found who had seen him in the hotel office and
corridor, nevertheless, or positively testified thereto; but none who
had seen the stranger he described, and on whom alone he could depend to
corroborate his statements and establish his innocence.
As a result of all this, both Mademoiselle Falloni and Madame Escobar
had insisted that Clayton must be arrested, which was reluctantly done
by Detective Webber, despite the objections of Nick Carter and his
refusal to comply with the insistent demands of the famous vocalists.
The mission from which Nick was returning at four o’clock, however,
appeared in his first remark.
“Well, I got him out,” he said, while removing his coat and hat.
“On bail?” Chick tersely questioned.
“Yes. I had to put up some argument, however, and his bondsmen a cool
thirty thousand dollars,” said Nick, laughing a bit grimly. “I promised
Judge Sadler that I would find the real crooks and recover the jewels,
or, rather, I predicted it, and it now is up to us to make good.”
“Make good, chief, is right,” declared Patsy. “I’m on nettles to get at
it, for fair, if I only knew where and how to begin.”
“The way will open,” Nick replied confidently.
“What’s your big idea, chief?”
“This job was done by some one living in the hotel.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m sure of it. No outsider could have accomplished it. It was done too
quickly. The entire trick was turned in twenty minutes.”
“That’s right, too,” nodded Patsy.
“Nor could an outsider have got away with both jewel cases, taken
separately, without being seen by some one in the house. The crook is a
guest in the hotel, so are probably his confederates.”
“Do you think the stranger who talked with Clayton had a hand in the
job?” Chick asked.
“Undoubtedly. His part was to detain Clayton in his private office until
the rascal who impersonated Clayton could turn the trick.”
“But, by Jove, it seems incredible that Clayton could have been
impersonated,” Chick said doubtfully. “It’s not easy to counterfeit a
smooth-shaved man of his type. Especially under such circumstances. He
got by at least a dozen persons who are well acquainted with Clayton.
Besides, Vernon noticed his garments, his necktie, and his carbuncle
pin. By Jove, it seems incredible.”
Nick emphasized his reply by thumping his desk with his knuckles.
“Clayton either is guilty, or he is not,” said he. “I feel sure he is
not. If I am right, and I’m going to bank the limit on it, he was
impersonated by some one. You must admit that.”
“Certainly,” Chick allowed. “That goes without saying.”
“It is confirmed, moreover, by what occurred three months ago.”
“Clayton’s abduction?”
“Yes.”
“How do you now size it up?”
“It’s as plain as twice two,” said Nick. “That job was pulled off only
to pave the way for this one. Clayton was abducted to be studied, that
his voice, manner, facial expressions, every outside detail of him, in
fact, might be perfectly imitated. You remember, Chick, that he sensed
the frequent and stealthy espionage of some person whom he did not see.”
“Yes, indeed, I remember.”
“That unknown spy, take it from me, was the crook who to-day
impersonated Clayton,” Nick added.
“Well, possibly.”
“Bear in mind, too, that Clayton was deprived of his outside clothing
during the entire three days of his mysterious captivity. His pin was
duplicated in the meantime, and a suit of clothing precisely matching
his was obtained. I learned, when I questioned him privately after his
mother was revived and the circumstances explained to her, that he
to-day had on the very suit he wore at the time of his abduction.”
“By Jove, that is quite significant,” Chick admitted.
“Gee whiz! it’s more than that, Chick,” cried Patsy. “It’s almost
convincing.”
“That’s precisely what it is, Patsy,” said Nick. “Since then, no doubt,
the rascals have obtained other suits like those worn by Clayton, rather
than depend upon his wearing that particular one at the time when it was
necessary to commit the robbery. He probably wore it to-day by chance.
The coincidence, nevertheless, is no less significant on that account.”
“Not an atom less, chief, surely.”
“Do you think, then, that they had this jewel robbery in view when they
abducted Clayton?” Chick asked.
“I certainly do,” Nick replied. “Mademoiselle Falloni’s jewels have a
world-wide reputation. They have been the sensation of Europe. She
invariably wears them when singing _Cleopatra_. Her engagement in New
York at this time was announced months ago, also the fact that a suite
in the Westgate had been retained for her. All of these details were
literally handed to the crooks by the newspapers, enabling them to
definitely plan this robbery.”
“Well, all that does seem quite reasonable,” Chick nodded.
“Let’s go a step farther, then,” Nick continued. “Having thus paved the
way for the crime, what was the most natural step for the crooks to have
taken, or at least the one who was to impersonate Clayton?”
“You say.”
“Obviously, Chick, it would have been to take quarters in the hotel,
seeking apartments convenient for the job and pretending to be a
reputable person. Not only could Clayton’s daily habits in the house
then be observed, but suspicion after the crime would also be averted.”
“Why so?”
“Because old residents in a hotel are seldom suspected under such
circumstances. Recent guests are the ones who incur distrust.”
“That also is true, Nick.”
“Furthermore, no doubt, the crooks have reasoned that no connection
would be suspected between this crime and the abduction episodes of more
than three months ago.”
“Nor would it have been, Nick, if Clayton had not mentioned the strange
circumstances to us.”
“Possibly not. Nothing definite, at all events, would have been deduced
from them,” said Nick.
“Gee! it strikes me, chief, that we ought to derive some advantage from
all this,” said Patsy.
“I think that we can.”
“What’s your scheme?”
“I want you, Patsy, to return to the Westgate in disguise,” said Nick.
“Get next to Vernon, the head clerk, and confide your identity to him.”
“And then?”
“Then learn from him what persons now in the house have been permanent
guests for the past three months, or since a week or two earlier, having
arrived there about the time of Clayton’s abduction.”
“I see the point, chief,” Patsy quickly nodded.
“There probably are not many who have been there precisely that length
of time, and the books will readily supply the information. Get a list
of them from Vernon, and then proceed to look them up on the quiet. Sift
out who cannot be reasonably suspected. Well-known persons, those of
recognized integrity, any whose apartments are badly suited for such a
job--there are many ways by which you can eliminate those not reasonably
to be distrusted.”
“I’ve got you, chief, dead to rights.”
“We may discover by this eliminating process some who seriously warrant
suspicion,” Nick added. “You then may go a step farther, Patsy, and see
what you can learn about them.”
“Trust me for that, chief. I’ll get all that’s coming to me,” declared
Patsy confidently.
“You may report in person, or by telephone.”
“That will depend on what’s doing. May I act on my own judgment?”
“If sure you are right.”
“That’s good enough for me, chief. Shall I leave at once?”
“Presently.”
“By Jove, there’s one point, Nick, that I cannot get over,” insisted
Chick, who had been deep in thought for several moments. “It won’t run,
grapple it how I will.”
“What point is that, Chick?” Nick inquired.
“The extraordinary likeness of the thief and Clayton. I know of no man,
not excluding yourself, who is so clever in the art of making up as to
counterfeit a smooth-shaved, clean-cut face like that of Chester
Clayton. That one point, which is inconsistent with the theory you have
formed, is still in my crop. I can’t swallow it.”
“I admit the difficulty,” said Nick, smiling a bit oddly. “I think
there is one person, however, who could enlighten us a little on that
point, if so inclined.”
“Whom do you mean?”
“Clayton’s mother--Mrs. Julia Clayton.”
“Why do you think so?”
“For two reasons,” said Nick. “First, because of something she said when
she entered Mademoiselle Falloni’s suite immediately after learning
about the robbery. I already have told you the circumstances.”
“But not what she said, Nick.”
“In reply to an assertion by Clayton that the robbery had been committed
by some man so like him as to escape detection, she cried with a gasp,
catching up only two words--‘like you! So like you that--that’--and
there she collapsed, Chick, unable to finish the response she had in
mind, and down she crashed upon the floor in a dead faint.”
“And you deduce from that?” Chick questioned.
“Merely that Mrs. Julia Clayton knows of some man who bears a very close
likeness to her son.”
“By Jove, there may be something in that.”
“It listens good to me, all right,” put in Patsy.
“But what did she say, Nick, when she revived?”
“That is where my second reason comes in,” said Nick. “She did not
volunteer to say anything about it, nor to explain her sudden collapse.
She listened to Clayton’s statement of the circumstances, and appeared
to feel relieved, but not a word of explanation came from her.”
“That was a bit strange, indeed.”
“I think Doctor Guelpa noticed it, also, for I detected a look of
surprise in his eyes.”
“Why didn’t you question Mrs. Clayton?”
“The time was not favorable,” said Nick. “She was not in a mood to have
answered personal questions. I saw that plainly enough, Chick, and I
decided to defer interrogating her. I preferred, moreover to see her
alone.”
“You intend doing so, then?”
“Surely.”
“When?”
“This evening. I shall call at her home on Washington Heights. I think I
may find her alone.”
“In that case----”
“In that case, Chick, she will tell me what she had on her mind this
morning, or I’ll know the reason why,” Nick interrupted, with ominous
emphasis, while he arose from his swivel chair. “Go ahead, Patsy, along
the lines I have directed. We’ll start this ball rolling.”