NICK FINDS A CLEW.
Nick Carter did not receive the expected telephone communication from
Chick the following morning. Bent upon learning why, and apprehending
that something of a sensational nature had occurred the previous night,
Nick called at the Lexington Avenue boarding house about half past eight
and asked to see the landlady.
Mrs. Hardy joined him in her parlor a few moments later, drying her
hands and arms with her apron.
“I have called to inquire about Mr. Lamont,” said Nick, after closing
the door. “I understand----”
“Dear me!” Mrs. Hardy interrupted, gazing. “That’s more than I can say.
I’m very glad if any one understands and will explain Mr. Lamont’s
conduct.”
“Ah!” Nick replied, smiling. “I thought something had occurred. I
probably can explain to your entire satisfaction. What about Mr. Lamont?
What mystifies you?”
“Well, sir, he engaged a room here last night and left his suit case,
saying he would return in about an hour. He did not do so, nor have I
heard from him. I have telephoned to a gentleman to whom he referred me,
and who stated that he is entirely reliable.”
“You probably refer to Mr. Calvin Page, his uncle.”
“Yes, sir, I do. But I cannot account for Mr. Lamont’s disappearance. Do
you know anything about him?”
“I know all about him, madam,” said Nick. “Did any thing occur here last
night that might have occasioned his absence?”
“Well, no, sir; nothing occurred in the house.”
“Outside, perhaps?”
“I know only that one of my boarders, Helen Bailey, was assaulted by a
man about eleven o’clock as she was approaching the door. A stranger ran
across the avenue and drove the miscreant away, then pursued him around
the corner. Neither of them returned. I don’t think the stranger was Mr.
Lamont, however, for he don’t answer Miss Bailey’s description of her
protector.”
“Chick in another disguise,” thought Nick. “The game opened even more
quickly than I expected.”
Mrs. Hardy then was gazing at him quite suspiciously, and Nick decided
to take her into his confidence. He briefly explained the situation and
the probable circumstances, much to the woman’s relief and increasing
interest in her visitor, whom she now regarded in an entirely different
light.
“Dear me!” she exclaimed. “I did not even dream, Mr. Carter, that you
were the famous detective. I don’t think Miss Bailey even suspected that
her protector was one of your assistants.”
“Did she say anything more about the matter than you have stated?” Nick
inquired.
“No, sir; only what I have told you.”
“You must not do so, then, nor mention what I have told you,” Nick
directed, more impressively. “Say nothing whatever about the matter to
any one.”
“But, Mr. Carter, your instructions come too late.”
“Too late?”
“Yes, sir. I already have told one man.”
“Whom have you told?”
“Mr. Gaston Goulard.”
“How did you happen to inform him?” asked Nick, both surprised and
suspicious.
“He called here this morning. He frequently stops with his automobile
when on his way to business to take Miss Bailey to the telephone
exchange. She had gone before he arrived, however, and I then told him
about Mr. Lamont, thinking he might know the man, or suggest some
explanation for his absence.”
“Is Mr. Goulard friendly with Miss Bailey?” Nick inquired, with brows
knitting slightly.
“Yes, sir, but only in a paternal way, I think. He is much older than
she, and I imagine that he is interested in her only because of young
Mr. Mantell, the son of his business partner. Mr. Mantell is deeply in
love with Helen.”
“What did you tell Mr. Goulard about the assault?” Nick inquired.
“Only what I have stated to you.”
“That her assailant was pursued by the stranger?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you tell him that the stranger did not return?”
“I did, sir.”
“What did Mr. Goulard say about that?”
“He appeared quite disturbed.”
“What did he say?” Nick repeated.
“Well, I don’t think I remember,” Mrs. Hardy faltered. “He said nothing
that made any impression on me. He asked whether Helen recognized the
man, or gave me a description of him. When I had told him all I knew
about the matter, he rushed out to his automobile and rode rapidly away
with his chauffeur.”
“More rapidly than usual?”
“Yes, sir; much more. To tell the truth, Mr. Carter, I felt almost sure
that he suspected the man’s identity.”
Nick thought so, too, but he did not say so. He at once suspected, also,
that Goulard had hastened to the telephone exchange to question Helen
Bailey, and ten minutes later he entered in disguise and confirmed his
suspicions. Revealing his identity, of course, he learned from Helen
that Goulard had questioned her very closely about the man who had
pursued her brother, and that he then had hurriedly departed.
“Does he know that you were arrested yesterday morning, Miss Bailey, and
for what?” Nick then inquired.
“Yes, sir; he does,” said Helen.
“Who informed him?”
“He read about it in one of the newspapers.”
“Did he question you about it?”
“Yes, in a general way, Mr. Carter,” Helen readily admitted; then added
more earnestly: “But he appeared much interested in what occurred last
evening.”
“Quite likely,” said Nick, a bit dryly.
He decided not to reveal any of his increasing suspicions, however, but
returned immediately to his business office, where he found Patsy Garvan
awaiting him, and told him what he had learned.
“That listens good to me, chief,” declared Patsy, with some enthusiasm.
“It’s dead open and shut, now, that Chick has a line on Bart Bailey.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“But why haven’t we heard from him?”
“Circumstances may have prevented him from communicating with us, or he
may be seeking additional evidence before doing so,” Nick rightly
reasoned.
“Mebbe so,” Patsy agreed. “But what’s eating Goulard? Why was he so
haired up over it? Is he in love with Helen Bailey?”
“That evidently is one reason,” said Nick. “She denies that she has
given him any encouragement, however, beyond accepting a ride to and
from her place of business occasionally. She states that he has always
treated her respectfully. I would not care to trust Goulard with such a
girl, nevertheless, much farther than I could throw him.”
“Nor I, chief, as far as that goes,” said Patsy. “I don’t half like his
looks.”
“There may be a more serious cause for his being haired up, as you term
it,” Nick added.
“You refer to the robberies?”
“Exactly.”
“You think he may be the man behind the gun?”
“I begin to think so,” said Nick. “It is quite possible that he is
engaged in a big scheme to defraud his own partner. You observed last
evening, no doubt, that he was quite anxious to know what investigations
I intended to make, and he insisted that I must keep him informed of my
progress.”
“You bet I noticed that,” said Patsy. “It is significant, too, as far as
it goes.”
“Very true. Even if my suspicions are correct, however, it may not prove
easy to fix such treachery upon one of the firm and to round up his
confederates.”
“That’s right, too.”
“But there is one fact on which we can depend, and of which we can take
advantage.”
“What is that, chief?”
“Only four persons are supposed to know that we are engaged on the
case,” said Nick. “They are the two members of the firm, also Frank
Mantell, and the assistant general manager, Mr. Lombard. I directed that
no one else should be informed.”
“I remember,” nodded Patsy.
“Now, if either of them has a hand in these robberies, he will evidently
reason that the thefts must not abruptly cease, or we would immediately
attribute it to the fact that we are making an investigation and the
crooks have become alarmed. That would, of course, involve one or more
of the four men who know we are looking into the matter.”
“Sure thing,” agreed Patsy. “That’s as plain as twice two.”
“Undoubtedly, therefore, the thefts will continue,” Nick confidently
predicted. “It is up to us, then, to catch the thieves in the act, or at
least discover who is doing the work and how the goods are removed from
the store.
“Gee, we ought to be able to accomplish that,” said Patsy.
“We will undertake it, at all events, while Chick is following up Bart
Bailey. Slip two or three changes of disguise into your pocket, Patsy,
and go to the department store. Find Goulard, and keep an eye on him
till otherwise directed.”
“I’ll do that, all right, but what are your own plans?”
“I’m not sure what turn they will take,” said Nick. “I shall follow you
to the store in disguise and look over the ground. What I observe may
determine what more I shall do.”
“I see.”
“Be that as it may, I shall run across you and then may have other
instructions to give you.”
“I’ve got you, chief,” said Patsy, hastening to make ready. “May I act
on my own judgment, in case I detect anything suspicious?”
“Certainly,” Nick nodded. “Do nothing, however, that would expose our
hand.”
“I’ll guard against that, chief.”
“Go ahead when you are ready, then, and keep a sharp eye on Gaston
Goulard.”
It was nearly noon when Patsy entered the vast department store, where
the morning business then was in full swing, all of the several floors
being thronged with customers.
“I’ll probably find Goulard in the business office, or in that
locality,” he said to himself, then bent only upon locating his man.
“I’ll have a look in that direction.”
Though familiar with the store in a general way, Patsy knew but little
about its numerous departments. Fortune favored him, however, in that he
sauntered toward the rear of the store and unexpectedly discovered the
man he was seeking.
Goulard was hurrying up from one of the basement rooms in company with a
clean-cut, florid man of nearly fifty. Both appeared disturbed. Goulard
was talking excitedly and flourishing several foreign invoices, the
character of which Patsy readily detected.
“Gee, I’m playing lucky,” he said to himself. “There is something doing
already.”
He followed the two men to the second floor, on which the extensive
offices were located, including the private offices of the firm and
assistant managers. All were in the rear of the vast building, but
adjoined the extensive salesroom, which enabled Patsy to follow the two
men without attracting attention.
He saw them enter the nearest of the several private offices, which were
divided by a corridor from the large general office, and a moment later
Goulard’s hard, aggressive voice could be plainly heard through the
partly open door.
“There is no question about it, none whatever,” he declared. “Lombard is
right, Mr. Mantell. Two of the Persian shawls are missing. I have
checked off every article found in the packing cases, and Tenney, the
receiving clerk, is positive that none was mislaid. The invoice is
correct in every particular, save that two of the Persian shawls are
missing. There goes another two hundred dollars to the dogs. By Heaven,
I’ll close the store, or sell my interest in it, if this kind of thing
continues.”
“Another theft,” thought Patsy, pausing at the entrance to the corridor.
“The chief was right, by Jove, in that the robberies will continue in
spite of us. That must be the senior partner’s private office.”
The last was confirmed by the reply to Goulard’s heated declarations.
“Don’t lose your head, Gaston. You suffer no more than I over these
depredations. We are equal partners in the business. Bear in mind that
we now have Nick Carter on the case, and he----”
“Carter be hanged!” Goulard interrupted bluntly. “Why hasn’t he showed
up this morning? If he----”
“Give him time,” put in another voice, which Patsy recognized to be that
of Frank Mantell. “You know, Goulard, what he stated last evening.”
“Stated!” snapped Goulard. “He didn’t state anything. He said only that
he would look into the matter. Why isn’t he doing it? Close that door,
Lombard. We may be heard in the salesroom.”
Patsy heard the door closed, and the voices of the men within no longer
reached his ears. It was obvious to him, however, that they were
discussing a robbery committed that morning, evidently from a package of
imported merchandise that had been opened in the receiving room.
Bent only upon watching Goulard, as Nick had directed, Patsy waited
briefly within view of the office door, toward which he presently
sauntered, noting that the corridor ran toward the rear of the building
and to a narrow, diverging corridor and stairway leading down to a court
making in from the side street.
“I’ll wait and see where he goes after leaving Mantell’s office,” he
said to himself, not venturing to play the eavesdropper at the closed
door. “He probably will return to the salesroom, or some other part of
the store. Ah, this must be his private office.”
It was the last in the corridor, and a plate on the door bore Goulard’s
name. The door was partly open, and Patsy glanced in, pausing for a
moment. He saw a handsomely equipped office with a large roll-top desk,
then open and covered with accumulated letters, bills, and invoices.
Turning into the diverging back corridor, which afforded him a corner
for concealment, Patsy then observed that another door led from
Goulard’s office into the rear corridor, a fact which did not then
impress him seriously.
He scarce had turned the corner, however, when he heard the steps of the
two men in the other corridor. They were coming in his direction, and
discretion at first impelled him to dart toward the back stairway, as he
could not plausibly explain his presence in this rear corridor, which
was but little used and only by persons employed in the store.
Lingering for a moment, nevertheless, Patsy heard the men suddenly stop
at the door of Goulard’s office. They remained in whispered conversation
for several minutes, inaudible to Patsy, though he then heard one of
them walk quickly away through the main corridor, while the other
entered Goulard’s private office.
Patsy heard the door closed and the steps of the man within, and he
still lingered and listened.
“Is it Goulard himself?” he questioned mentally. “Who else would be in
his office? I must find a concealment from which I can watch the other
door.”
Patsy found it under the rise of stairs to the third floor, a dusty
corner from which he could see a portion of both corridors.
He had been waiting about ten minutes, when, much to his surprise,
another man emerged from Goulard’s office and appeared in the back
corridor.
He was a bowed, round-shouldered man in a gray suit, and entirely unlike
the fashionable garments worn by the junior member of the firm. He
appeared to be about sixty, a man with grizzled hair, a full beard, and
wearing steel-bowed spectacles. He paused for a moment, glancing sharply
toward the stairs, and then he closed the rear door from which he had
come and hastened toward the stairway.
“That beats me,” thought Patsy. “I’m sure there was no one in that
office when I looked into it, and who but Goulard would have entered it?
Who the dickens is this fellow, then, and why----”
Patsy did not continue his train of thought. He decided that the matter
needed immediate investigation. He darted to the rear door of the office
again and listened.
Not a sound came from within.
Stepping around to the other door, bent upon knocking and learning
positively whether Goulard was within, Patsy now found on the door a
written card:
“Will return at two o’clock.”
“Great Scott!” thought Patsy, startled. “That wasn’t here when I passed
this door. Can it be----”
He did not end the thought. He turned abruptly, darting through the rear
corridor and down the back stairway, now in hot pursuit of the bearded
man in gray.