A BOLD MOVE.
The first part of Nick’s plan involved a certain amount of risk.
It takes courage to beard a man of Doctor Grantley’s type in his own
lair, especially after a narrow escape from annihilation by acid in that
same lair. Nick Carter never allowed such considerations to weigh with
him, however, and the most he consented to do was to take his first
assistant, Chick, with him when he set out for the Bronx.
Hoff opened the door a crack, in accordance with his usual suspicious
attitude toward visitors. The detective promptly put his foot into the
opening.
“Is Doctor Grantley in, Hoff?” Nick asked.
The servant’s face was a study. Amazement at the detective’s daring and
hatred of him for the part he had played were both written there.
“I see he is,” Nick went on, without waiting for the belated reply.
“Kindly let us in and inform the doctor that I wish to see him at once
on important business.”
The German hesitated, but presently the door swung open, and they were
invited, in a surly tone, to enter. After leading the way to the
reception room, Hoff went upstairs. Five minutes later Doctor Grantley
put in an appearance.
“You’re certainly a cool one, Carter!” was his greeting. “What the devil
are you doing here? I thought you had sense enough to let me alone after
that farce of a trial. What new maggot is busy in your head now?”
“I have left you alone all these weeks, haven’t I?” Nick asked, in turn.
“And I would have continued to do so if you hadn’t taken such an
extraordinary step.”
A sneer distorted Grantley’s face.
“Ah, so you have heard of the Baldwin matter, have you?” he asked.
“Well, what about it? What business is it of yours?”
“I shall make it my business just so far as I see fit, Grantley,” was
the quiet answer. “Knowing that you are a murderer at heart, do you
suppose I am going to stand by with folded hands and let you get one of
the most valuable lives in the country under your knife, without doing
everything in my power to prevent it?”
“But it doesn’t happen to be in your power, my friend. You have no
standing at all in this affair. It is purely a matter for Mr. Baldwin to
decide, and he has chosen, after a searching investigation, to put
himself into my hands. I am confident that I can restore his sight, and
to that end I obtained an interview with him. He knows all about
me--more than you do, in all probability--and there is nothing underhand
about it. I suppose Vanderpool has run to you with the story, but I care
nothing for Vanderpool’s opinion. I violated professional etiquette, of
course, by openly offering my services; but I’ve never cared a row of
pins for such rules. They’re beneath me. Besides, I had everything to
gain and little or nothing to lose. Your confounded meddling has played
the deuce with my reputation, if it hasn’t done anything else. I saw a
chance to get on top again and make all those fools who have been
attacking me sing another tune. That’s all there is about it, and you
haven’t a leg to stand on.”
“That sounds plausible enough, as it was meant to sound,” the detective
remarked; “but--are you sure you never lost any money through Baldwin,
or on any of his stocks?”
The question came out like the snap of a whip, and Nick’s eyes bored
into the surgeon as he watched for its effect.
Apparently, however, it had none. Grantley did not drop his eyes for a
moment. He returned the detective’s glance, eye for eye, and not a
muscle of his face moved.
“Guess again, Carter!” he said, after a pause.
He shrugged his shoulders now, and a triumphant grin overspread his
face.
“You thought you had me, didn’t you?” he went on. “Well, your little
third degree went for nothing. As I’ve said before, it’s none of your
business; but I’m willing to stretch a point in order to get rid of you.
Therefore, I’ll go so far as to assure you solemnly that there is
absolutely nothing of that sort, or of anything else beyond what I have
stated, about this forthcoming operation on Mr. Baldwin’s eyes. It will
be perfectly straight, and you may be sure that I will give him the
benefit of every bit of skill and experience I possess. Does that
satisfy you?”
“It would if I had any confidence in your word, solemn or otherwise,
Grantley. As it happens, however, I did not ask you for any such
assurance in regard to the proposed operation on Baldwin’s eyes. You
couldn’t inflict much damage on them, no matter how criminal your
motive might be. But how about some other operation or experiment along
your favorite lines? Will you declare as earnestly that you have no
intention of playing any tricks of that sort?”
Again Grantley’s eyes met the detective’s without the slightest attempt
at evasion.
“Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to kick you out of this
house for suggesting such a thing, Carter,” he said, with an obvious
effort to control himself, “but I suppose I’ll have to humor you again.
Suspicion is your stock in trade, and if you can’t find a legitimate
suspicion, you’re evidently content with any old kind, no matter how
insulting or ridiculous. No, my spying friend; I swear that I have never
had any thought of conducting any experiments in vivisection on J.
Hackley Baldwin. Nobody but a lunatic would. A sane man would as soon
set fire to a sheaf of thousand-dollar bills, which represented the bulk
of his wealth. Why, man, you’re letting your silly fears run away with
you! Baldwin has promised me a quarter of a million dollars if this
operation is a success, and he would have given me twice as much--four
times as much--just as readily, if I had insisted upon it. Do you
suppose for a moment that I would try any tricks on him, as you call it,
with such a reward in prospect? Where’s all that superhuman cleverness
of yours, of which I’ve heard so much--and seen so little?”
Nick refused to take offense, however, and was not daunted in the least.
He returned again and again to the attack from different angles, but was
at last obliged to give it up.
Grantley stood his ground throughout, and none of Nick’s questions
seemed to cause him any embarrassment. If Grantley was plotting against
the financier in any way, Nick had to confess to himself that he was
about the coolest and most accomplished liar that a long experience had
brought to light.
Curiously enough, the only tangible thing which kept Nick’s suspicions
alive was the fact that Grantley returned his glances so defiantly. He
got the impression that the surgeon was forcing himself to do so by
sheer power of will. It seemed a little overdone.
At last Nick was compelled to withdraw with as good grace as he could,
none the wiser for the interview. Grantley lost no opportunity to jeer
at him, but made no hostile demonstration of any other sort.
At the first opportunity, Nick called upon the blind millionaire, by
appointment. He was not able, however, to give any definite or
compelling reasons for his attitude, and, as he had feared, all of his
arguments were in vain.
Baldwin admitted the truth of many of the detective’s points, but they
had no weight with him. He plainly showed his knowledge of Grantley’s
past unscrupulousness, but declared that he was willing to take whatever
risks might be involved.
Nothing could shake his conviction that the surgeon would not dare to
injure him in any way, and he returned repeatedly to Grantley’s own
strongest argument--namely, that the vivisectionist had, in the huge fee
at stake, the greatest possible incentive to do his best.
Finally, the millionaire thanked Nick for his interest, but announced
his intention of submitting to the operation at the time appointed.
“I’d give millions, if necessary, to any one who could give me back my
sight, Mr. Carter,” he said, as Nick rose to go; “and the character and
previous record of Doctor Grantley are matters of supreme indifference
to me. If he were guilty of all the crimes in the penal code, I should
still put myself into his hands, for every conceivable consideration of
self-interest would operate to make him hold me sacred and to give me
the utmost of which he is capable.”
As yet, Nick had nothing to show for his pains, but he did not give up.