NICK CALLS THE TURN.
“You throw up your hands, Carter, and listen to me!”
This was the command that came from Harry Royal as he leveled his
revolver at the detective’s head.
Nick promptly obeyed.
The shrewd detective, however, was laughing in his sleeve. He had
learned from long experience that there is little to be feared from a
man who pulls a gun and does not instantly fire. In nine cases out of
ten the act is only a bluff.
“I’ll not be arrested, Carter, I’ve made up my mind to that,” Royal
hoarsely cried. “Death is preferable to the disgrace and horror of a
prison cell. I don’t intend to harm you, but I swear I’ll shoot myself
if you attempt to arrest me.”
Nick was smiling now.
“You evidently take me for a foe, Royal,” said he genially. “Instead, my
boy, I am as good a friend as you have in the world. Put up that toy,
Royal, and prepare to go with me.”
“Not——”
“Oh, no, not to the Tombs,” interrupted Nick heartily. “I know that you
are innocent of any crime, and I am here only to serve you to the best
advantage, as well as others who are dear to you. I want you to go to my
residence with me, and for the present remain concealed there.”
“For what reason?” demanded Royal, struck with surprise and gradually
dropping his weapon.
“Oh, I cannot delay to explain,” laughed Nick, in friendly fashion.
“I’ll do so later, however. What I most fear, just now, Royal, is that
Detective Gerry, of the central office, may show up here at any moment.
Take my word for it, my boy, he’ll land you in the Tombs in short order,
and that’s what I wish to prevent.”
“Do you mean this, Carter, that you are really my friend?”
“Try me and see,” laughed Nick. “They who know me well will tell you
that I never lie like this.”
Royal sprang to his feet and held out his hand.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he impulsively cried, with his boyish
countenance fairly transfigured.
“Good for you,” nodded Nick, shaking him warmly by the hand. “You’ll
never regret it.”
“I will go with you when and where you please.”
“Good again.”
“Yet I’m infernally mystified——”
“Oh, I’ll explain all a little later, my boy.”
“Then we’ll dust from here at once, sir, for Gerry——”
“Stop a bit,” said Nick. “Not too fast. I wish it to appear that you
have fled, as you very likely would have done if you were guilty of
Kendall’s murder. No, no, don’t stop to question me. I’ll make it clear
enough to you by and by.”
“Very well, sir,” cried Royal, now glad enough to comply. “You just tell
me what to do, Detective Carter, and I’ll do it.”
“First put things in shape here, as if you had hurriedly departed,” said
Nick. “It will be very easy for Gerry and the police to assume that you
had some hand in the crime, and that you have now jumped the country.
I’ll loan you this disguise, that you may not be recognized as we go
out, and then we’ll make a bee-line for my residence. Once there, my
boy, we may discuss the situation without fear of intruders. Come, come,
look lively. The sooner we are away, lad, the better.”
Not much time was required for preparing the indications of hurried
flight which Nick wished the room to present, and at the end of a
quarter of an hour the two men left the Carleton Chambers building,
Royal in the disguise with which Nick had provided him, and together
they at once proceeded to the detective’s residence.
Upon entering his office with Royal, Nick met with a slight surprise,
not entirely unexpected, yet not anticipated quite so soon.
With a significant wink, Chick received him with the remark:
“There’s a man in the library, Nick, waiting to see you.”
Nick took the cue given him, saying inquiringly:
“Not——”
“Exactly!”
With a smile of genuine satisfaction, Nick turned to Royal and said:
“Take off that disguise, my boy, and conceal yourself back of yonder
door.”
“For what, sir?” asked Royal, perplexed and surprised.
“I expect something to be said here that I wish you to overhear.”
“Very well, then.”
“Not a word, mind you, nor a move of any kind, until I give you
permission.”
“Trust me, sir, I’ll be silent.”
“Conceal yourself at once, then,” said Nick. “Now, Chick, bring in the
caller.”
Chick departed to the library, returning at the end of a minute.
He was accompanied by—Moses Flood.
Nick had discarded his black coat, having put on an office jacket, and
he was found seated at his desk.
“Ah, Moses, how are you?” said he, looking up with an innocent smile
when the noted gambler entered.
Flood was as carefully dressed as usual, and appeared remarkably
dignified and composed. Yet his face was very pale and his mouth
noticeably firm.
“Fairly well, Nick,” he gravely replied, accepting the chair to which
Nick graciously waved him. “I am glad you have returned. I have been
waiting to see you.”
“Waiting long, Mose?”
“About ten minutes. No, don’t go, Chick. My business is not private. I
prefer, in fact, that you also should hear what I have to say.”
“All right, Mose,” laughed Chick, taking a chair. “Just as you wish.”
“What can I do for you, Flood?” inquired Nick.
The gambler cleared his throat before he replied, then said, with grave
feeling:
“To begin with, Nick, despite that our vocations in life have been
decidedly opposed, and mine not one to be proud of, we have never had
any conflict that I can recall, and I feel rather justified in saying
that we are fairly good friends.”
“Quite so, I’m sure,” said Nick simply.
“Well, I wish to state, Nick, that I have played my last card. Whatever
the morrow has in store for me, whether good or ill, fortune or
misfortune, I never again will gamble in any way as long as I live. I am
done with it forever.”
Nick promptly extended his hand and took that of the speaker, giving it
a grip that made Flood wince.
“I’m a thousand times more than glad to hear you say this, Mose,” he
cried; “and I know that your word, when you give it thus, is as good as
any government bond. I’m rejoiced to be the first to take your hand upon
it; and, as far as friendship goes, Mose, you have no better friend in
the world than Nick Carter.”
Flood’s outward composure, which was absolutely marvelous at times,
remained as marked as when he sat dealing cards which made him nearly a
hundred thousand dollars loser, for the sake of a girl’s happiness whose
hand had been denied him, and to whose love he believed he had no
earthly hope.
“I believe you, Nick,” said he gravely. “And I thank you.”
“Such a man as you, Mose, can make his mark in any path in life, and a
brilliant mark, too,” added Nick. “I see a grand future for you now, and
I say heartily, God speed it.”
Flood shrugged his broad shoulders and smiled faintly.
“Don’t be too sure of the future, Nick,” said he. “At all events,
however, free me from one thought.”
“Namely?”
“That I am led to this renunciation of my business by any fear or
thought of the future,” said Flood, with profound feeling. “Now, Nick,
having declared my better resolutions, I will come to the chief point
and tell you why I am here.”
“I am all attention.”
“I presume you have heard the news, Nick?”
“You refer to that murder out in Fordham?”
“Precisely.”
“Yes, Mose, I have heard of it.”
“Well, Nick, I have come here to give myself into custody,” said Flood,
with unaltered quietude. “You being a good friend, and a man I have
always admired, I preferred to have you take me in rather than one of
those infernally meddlesome sleuths of the central office. Nick, I yield
myself your prisoner.”
To say that Chick Carter was startled and surprised is putting it
tamely.
Nick, however, was not in the least surprised. He had, with
extraordinary shrewdness, and for reasons presently to appear, expected
nothing less.
“My prisoner, eh?” said he, smiling, with a curious twinkle in his eye.
“For what, Mose?”
“For the murder of Cecil Kendall,” said Flood quietly. “I confess to
having committed the crime, Nick, and you may run me in as soon as you
please. The sooner the better.”
Nick sat back in his chair, elevated his heels to the edge of his desk,
then said complacently, still oddly smiling:
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Flood, but I really cannot accept your
magnanimous offer.”
“Not accept it!”
“No, Mose.”
“Why not?”
“Because, Mose,” laughed Nick, “my reputation as a detective is
involved. When I run a man in for committing a crime I always make it a
point to run in—the right man!”
Flood half started from his chair, then controlled himself with a
violent mental effort.
“What do you mean by that, Nick?” he demanded, frowning darkly.
“Just what I say, Mose.”
“You think I am not the right man?”
“I know you are not.”
“But my confession——”
“Your confession has no weight with me, Mose,” interrupted Nick
decidedly.
“No weight! Why not?”
“Because you are making it to shield another.”
“Another?”
“Harry Royal.”
“Why do you say this?”
“Because you are in love with his sister, Mose, and you went to Fordham
last evening to see her,” cried Nick. “Instead, you saw Harry Royal near
Kendall’s dead body, and you now believe that he committed the murder.
So you are taking his supposed crime upon your own shoulders, for the
sake of Medora Royal and her father, with even greater sacrifice than
when you purposely dealt cards which made you a loser to the amount of
ninety thousand dollars, to set Kendall on his feet, merely because you
thought Dora Royal loved him.”
Before this was half uttered Moses Flood was upon his feet, as white as
the collar at his pulsing throat and with eyes burning like living fire.
“Are you man or devil, Nick Carter, that you know these things?” he
cried, with lips convulsively twitching.
Nick laughed aloud.
“Man, Mose,” he replied; “and I’m sometimes known by the name
of—Badger.”
Flood drew back with a start.
“Badger—you’re not Joe Badger!”
“Rather!”
“Whom I saw this morning?”
“None other.”
“Who was at my place last night?”
“Precisely.”
“Oh, my God, I see it all now!”
“Steady, Mose!” cried Nick. “Not too fast. Not quite all. You fail to
see what you yourself have once declared—that it was not in young Royal
to have killed his friend.”
Flood caught his breath as he comprehended the significance of the last
remark, and he sprang toward Nick like a man electrified.
“You don’t mean—you don’t mean, Nick, that he is guiltless?” he cried,
as if in a frenzy of suspense.
“Exactly.”
“Can you prove it? Can you prove it? I’ll give you my fortune, Nick, if
you can prove that.”
“We shall see.”
“But——”
“Come forth there, from behind the door,” shouted Nick.
And Harry Royal, deeply moved by what he had heard, with tears in his
eyes and sobs shaking him, strode out from his concealment.
Flood reeled a little, staring, gasping for breath, then raised his
hands and pointed to the young man he had so unselfishly served.
“But I saw him—I saw him above the body!” he cried wildly.
“I discovered it only by chance, Mose, on my word.”
“But the satchel—you had in your hand the satchel with the money——”
“No, no, on my life, no!” screamed Royal. “It was my own, the satchel I
had brought from Boston. I had it when I left your house. I know no more
than you of the killing of Cecil Kendall.”
Flood threw back his head with a cry of relief too great for words, and
Nick Carter laughed deeply and sprang up to grasp him by the hand.
“You are one man in ten million, Mose, who would thus lay down his life
for the love of another,” he cried warmly. “Calm yourself, old chap. I
told you I was a friend on whom you could rely.”
Flood gazed at him with glistening eyes.
“Before Heaven, Nick, I owe you a debt I can never repay,” said he, with
much emotion.
“Pshaw,” laughed Nick heartily. “As you men say who writhe under the
tiger’s claws, as you lately have been writhing, Mose, I have merely
called the turn for you. Run you in, eh? No, no, my man, not I. When I
make a move of that kind I want the right man. To get the bracelets on
him—that’s the work that still lies before me. It may prove to be the
most difficult and dangerous of all. The relations of you two men—humph!
the adjustment of them was easy.”
Even thus indifferently could the great detective regard the clever work
by which he had verified many of his suspicions through bringing these
two men together.
The explanations that presently followed served to greatly clear the
situation, despite that they offered no clue to Kendall’s assassin.
Harry Royal’s story, as previously told to Nick, was entirely true.
As regarded Flood, it appeared that he had driven to Fordham in a buggy,
in the body of which he had placed his cane. Wishing to secretly have a
last interview with Dora Royal, he had hitched his team at the rear
gate, then crossed the rectory grounds to try to see her. As he
approached the house, however, he saw Royal by the light from the
library windows, crouching above the body of Kendall, who must have been
slain but a brief time before.
Before Flood could accost him, Royal leaped up and fled at the top of
his speed. After the threats the latter had made, Flood felt sure he had
committed the murder. Overwhelmed by the discovery, he had at once
driven back to town and put up his team, entirely forgetting the cane
which he had when starting out.
During the night he resolved upon the magnanimous course he would adopt,
just as Nick had suspected. Next morning, however, when confronted by
Badger, he discovered that the latter knew far too much and must be
silenced. Hence the interruption of Gerry during their interview led
Flood to escape by a secret door, with the intention of afterward
seeking Badger, to buy his silence. Not knowing where to find him,
however, Flood finally decided to clinch matters by giving himself up to
Nick Carter and flatly asserting that he had committed the crime.
While simple enough in a way, Nick’s deductions from the conflicting
circumstances were exceedingly clever. The passionate indignation of
Flood, when Nick intimated that Royal might be the guilty party, at once
convinced the detective that that was Flood’s own opinion. Nick
instantly decided, therefore, that Flood must have been at Fordham that
night, and very likely had seen Royal in some incriminating situation.
Believing that Royal would lie about the matter if questioned by a
detective, Nick decided that he could learn the exact truth by
personating Flood for that purpose. Hence the curious and effective ruse
he had adopted.
Such, in brief, were the explanations which greatly cleared matters, and
the gratitude of Royal for the heroic part assumed by Moses Flood may be
easily imagined.
Added to this, moreover, when Nick quietly disclosed to Flood the true
sentiments of Medora Royal, and the misleading statement made by her
father, along with the probability that the past would be forgiven and
Flood’s suit favorably considered, the situation, at least in so far as
Flood was concerned, became changed indeed.
“But,” Nick emphatically declared a little later, “there is one fact not
to be ignored. The murderer of Kendall still is at large, and he must be
found.”
“I should say so,” cried Chick. “By Jove! I don’t see that we are any
nearer that than at the outset.”
“Possibly not,” admitted Nick, smiling oddly. “But I have an idea that
we shall finally land him.”
“Have you any suspicion, Carter, or formed any plans?” inquired Flood,
with countenance evincing the happiness Nick had brought him.
Nick looked a bit grim and threatening when he replied.
“Suspicions, no,” said he. “Plans, yes.”
“Namely?” inquired Chick.
“This work is for you and me alone, Chick,” said Nick decidedly. “For
the present, both Flood and Harry Royal must remain concealed here.”
“What’s that for?”
“I wish to have it appear that they have fled, as if both of them were
parties to the murder. This will serve us in two ways.”
“How so?”
“First, it will set Gerry and the police on a wild-goose chase, and
leave the way open to our work and investigations.”
“That’s true, Nick,” nodded Chick. “A good scheme, too.”
“Second,” added Nick, “it will tend to relieve the real criminal of
immediate apprehensions, and convince him that he is not suspected. That
will make his detection all the easier for us.”
“No doubt of it, Nick.”
“Now draw up your chairs, all of you, and I will outline my plans. The
most important work, and undoubtedly the most hazardous, still remains
to be done.”