BLACKMAIL.
Mignon Field, fortunately, was not badly injured. It was only a flesh
wound, after all, the doctor said, and she would soon be herself again.
Nick Carter was rejoiced to hear this at the Field’s residence, to
which he had taken Mignon, for he felt a sincere interest in the
beautiful young girl.
When Nick Carter left the banker’s mansion he did not notice a nice,
gentlemanly-looking fellow who followed him.
For many blocks he dodged the detective’s footsteps, and when the
latter took a car he also boarded it.
Nick went to his home, and the other still kept at his heels.
The detective had but reached his room when his servant announced a
visitor.
He supposed that it was some one from headquarters, and he was
surprised when the gentleman, who had been following him, was ushered
in.
“You will pardon the intrusion of a stranger, I am sure,” said the
visitor, giving the detective his card, “when you have heard what I
have to say.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Furman,” said Nick, glancing at his visitor’s card.
“I will take my own way, and I hope I may not give offense.”
Nick Carter surveyed the cheeky fellow from head to foot, and were
he to express his thoughts the gentleman would have heard little
complimentary.
Furman sat down on a lounge and threw one leg over the other.
The fellow was cool, decidedly cool.
“You would like to be rich?” he said. “But that is a foolish question;
we all want money, and the more we get the better appetite we have for
more. It never surfeits a fellow.”
“Come to the point at once,” said Nick, who seriously contemplated
throwing his visitor downstairs. “What do you want? I have no time to
listen to your impertinence.”
“Do you want to make a cool hundred thousand dollars?” asked Mr. Furman.
“No,” was the reply; “I certainly could not make it honestly.”
“That is a matter of choice, whether what I propose is honest or not,”
said the visitor. “I should say it was not dishonest.”
“What is it that you propose?” asked the detective.
“That you will give up the search for Hilton Field.”
“Oh, that’s your little game, is it?” said Nick. “It is evident that
you don’t know me, or you would not have made such a proposition. Who
do you represent in this matter?”
“It does not signify.”
“Elmer Greer has no such sum of money to pay,” remarked the detective.
“I am quite aware of that,” said Mr. Furman.
“Then, it is Thomas Smith, the curbstone broker,” remarked Nick.
“Well, we’ll suppose it is Tom Smith,” said the visitor. “It will make
no difference to you who puts up the stuff, if you get it.”
“I told you I would have nothing to do with you.”
“Better think it over,” suggested Furman.
Nick did think for a moment, and his visitor eagerly watched his
features the while, but he could see nothing there.
“I will accept your offer,” said the detective, hastily, “but when am I
to receive this money?”
“You will be paid twenty thousand dollars to-day and the rest in thirty
days’ time,” replied Mr. Furman, smiling at his success. “I knew you
would come around, after a bit.”
“What man wouldn’t?” said Nick, with great earnestness. “Why, you offer
me a fortune. But suppose some other detective finds the old banker,
what then?”
“We have no fear of the others,” answered the visitor. “You are the
only one we are afraid of. Of course you will not give any of them a
clew to work on?”
“Not I.”
“Then we will go down to Wall Street and get your first installment.”
In a dark room, in the rear of the fourth story of a Pine Street
building, into which Nick was ushered, sat the broker friend of Elmer
Greer.
“You have succeeded, Sam, I see,” said Tom Smith to Mr. Furman.
Turning to the detective, Smith put out his hand, saying:
“I guess we can come to terms. I felt very sorry for that affair at the
hotel the other night.”
“I have no doubt you did, sir,” remarked Nick.
“Sam has explained my proposition, I trust,” said the smiling broker.
“Oh, yes. I understand the matter thoroughly,” replied the detective.
“I am to receive twenty thousand to-day.”
“Just so, and at the end of a month, eighty thousand more.”
“It is a heap of money,” said Nick, evidently carried away by the
magnitude of the sum.
“Oh, I can afford it; and--let me whisper--perhaps you may get more
than you bargain for,” remarked the broker. “The disappearance of this
old fossil, Field, has been a great thing for me, and you may be sure I
am feathering my nest.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said the detective.
Smith went to a large safe and took from it a package of bills.
They were all of large denominations, and the twenty thousand dollars
he handed his visitor did not make a very thick bundle.
Nick Carter shoved the money into an inside pocket and buttoned his
coat.
“Mr. Smith,” he said, “you must give me your note for the balance, and
state on its face what service the money is paid for.”
The broker hemmed and hawed; this proposition was not at all to his
liking.
“If you do not,” continued Nick, “our bargain is off.”
There was no resisting this threat, and Smith hastened to satisfy the
officer’s demand.
Nick placed the note with the bills and rebuttoned his coat.
“Of course,” said Smith, “you will forget about that business at the
hotel. I mean, you won’t ‘pinch’ Greer and the girl?”
The detective smiled in spite of his efforts to refrain from doing so.
“I suppose you have business to attend to?” said the broker, extending
his hand.
He had accomplished what he wished and was anxious to bring the
interview to an end.
“Y-e-s,” drawled Nick. “I have some business to attend to.”
“Then don’t let me detain you,” said Tom Smith.
The pair of handcuffs that the detective drew from his pocket were
neat ones, and the pistol that he brought to light with them was
gold-mounted, but their beauty did not strike the broker.
“What do you mean?” he cried, aghast, as he retreated to the furthest
end of the room.
“That you will accompany me to police headquarters,” said Nick Carter.
“You won’t be lonesome; our friend, Mr. Furman, here, will go along.”
“Will he?” Sam cried, discharging a pistol full at the officer.
The bullet whistled past Nick’s ear and imbedded itself in the wall.
Before Furman could again fire, the detective snatched the weapon from
his hand.
Then Nick Carter locked the door and put the key in his pocket.
“Give me back my money,” said Smith.
The detective laughed at the trembling culprit, whom he had so easily
taken in.
The broker was very pale, and his knees were so weak that it was with
difficulty he managed to stand.
Furman, on the other hand, seemed cool.
“Come, give me your hand.” Nick opened the iron cuff as he approached
Tom.
At that moment Furman, who was behind him, sprang forward.
The detective was prepared for this, and turning around, he dealt Sam
a blow between the eyes with his pistol Butt, that stretched that
gentleman upon the floor.
Nick Carter placed the iron bracelet upon the broker’s wrist without
much difficulty, although Smith struggled with all his strength to
prevent him from doing so.
Furman arose to his feet, and, before he had time to look around him,
the other handcuff was slipped on him.
“Well, you are a lovely pair, ain’t you?” said Nick, surveying his
captives.
“Let me go,” said Smith, “and I will give you all that is in the
safe--nearly a quarter of a million in government bonds. Give me enough
to take me out of the country, and you can have the rest.”
Nick Carter laughed at him.
The safe door was open, and the broker asked permission to close it.
“I will attend to that,” said the detective; “you chaps can amuse
yourselves in any manner you choose, while I am at work.”
With an ordinary penknife Nick removed the screws holding the
compartment containing the tumblers in place.
It took him but a few minutes to set the lock on a new combination and
replace it; then he closed the safe.
Tom Smith was a most interested spectator.
The broker felt that all was up with him.
Had he reasoned, Tom would have known that his money could not be taken
away from him.
He had not stolen it, and, although he had made it by dishonest means,
it was nevertheless his.
When they reached the street a crowd gathered around the detective and
his prisoners.
Nick hailed a passing hack, and the party were driven to police
headquarters.
The detective explained fully to his chief the details of the case,
and handed over to him the twenty thousand dollars; also the note he
had received from Smith.
The precious pair were brought before a police magistrate, and by him
committed to the Tombs for attempted bribery.