[FOLLOWING A CHANCE CLEW.]

[CHAPTER I., ] [ II., ] [ III., ] [ IV., ] [ V., ] [ VI., ] [ VII., ] [ VIII., ] [ IX., ] [ X., ] [ XI., ] [ XII., ] [ XIII., ] [ XIV., ] [ XV., ] [ XVI., ] [ XVII., ] [ XVIII., ] [ XIX., ] [ XX., ] [ XXI., ] [ XXII., ] [ XXIII., ] [ XXIV., ] [ XXV., ] [ XXVI., ] [ XXVII., ] [ XXVIII.]

NICK CARTER STORIES
New Magnet Library
Not a Dull Book in This List
ALL BY NICHOLAS CARTER

Nick Carter stands for an interesting detective story. The fact that the books in this line are so uniformly good is entirely due to the work of a specialist. The man who wrote these stories produced no other type of fiction. His mind was concentrated upon the creation of new plots and situations in which his hero emerged triumphantly from all sorts of troubles and landed the criminal just where he should be—behind the bars.

The author of these stories knew more about writing detective stories than any other single person.

Following is a list of the best Nick Carter stories. They have been selected with extreme care, and we unhesitatingly recommend each of them as being fully as interesting as any detective story between cloth covers which sells at ten times the price.

If you do not know Nick Carter, buy a copy of any of the New Magnet Library books, and get acquainted. He will surprise and delight you.

ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT
850—Wanted: A Clew 851—A Tangled Skein 852—The Bullion Mystery 853—The Man of Riddles 854—A Miscarriage of Justice 855—The Gloved Hand 856—Spoilers and the Spoils 857—The Deeper Game 858—Bolts from Blue Skies 859—Unseen Foes 860—Knaves in High Places 861—The Microbe of Crime 862—In the Toils of Fear 863—A Heritage of Trouble 864—Called to Account 865—The Just and the Unjust 866—Instinct at Fault 867—A Rogue Worth Trapping 868—A Rope of Slender Threads 869—The Last Call 870—The Spoils of Chance 871—A Struggle with Destiny 872—The Slave of Crime 873—The Crook’s Blind 874—A Rascal of Quality 875—With Shackles of Fire 876—The Man Who Changed Faces 877—The Fixed Alibi 878—Out with the Tide 879—The Soul Destroyers 880—The Wages of Rascality 881—Birds of Prey 882—When Destruction Threatens 883—The Keeper of Black Hounds 884—The Door of Doubt 885—The Wolf Within 886—A Perilous Parole 887—The Trail of the Finger Prints 888—Dodging the Law 889—A Crime in Paradise 890—On the Ragged Edge 891—The Red God of Tragedy 892—The Man Who Paid 893—The Blind Man’s Daughter 894—One Object in Life 895—As a Crook Sows 896—In Record Time 897—Held in Suspense 898—The $100,000 Kiss 899—Just One Slip 900—On a Million-dollar Trail 901—A Weird Treasure 902—The Middle Link 903—To the Ends of the Earth 904—When Honors Pall 905—The Yellow Brand 906—A New Serpent in Eden 907—When Brave Men Tremble 908—A Test of Courage 909—Where Peril Beckons 910—The Gargoni Girdle 911—Rascals & Co. 912—Too Late to Talk 913—Satan’s Apt Pupil 914—The Girl Prisoner 915—The Danger of Folly 916—One Shipwreck Too Many 917—Scourged by Fear 918—The Red Plague 919—Scoundrels Rampant 920—From Clew to Clew 921—When Rogues Conspire 922—Twelve in a Grave 923—The Great Opium Case 924—A Conspiracy of Rumors 925—A Klondike Claim 926—The Evil Formula 927—The Man of Many Faces 928—The Great Enigma 929—The Burden of Proof 930—The Stolen Brain 931—A Titled Counterfeiter 932—The Magic Necklace 933—Round the World for a Quarter 934—Over the Edge of the World 935—In the Grip of Fate 936—The Case of Many Clews 937—The Sealed Door 938—Nick Carter and the Green Goods Men 939—The Man Without a Will 940—Tracked Across the Atlantic 941—A Clew from the Unknown 942—The Crime of a Countess 943—A Mixed-up Mess 944—The Great Money-order Swindle 945—The Adder’s Brood 946—A Wall Street Haul 947—For a Pawned Crown 948—Sealed Orders 949—The Hate that Kills 950—The American Marquis 951—The Needy Nine 952—Fighting Against Millions 953—Outlaws of the Blue 954—The Old Detective’s Pupil 955—Found in the Jungle 956—The Mysterious Mall Robbery 957—Broken Bars 958—A Fair Criminal 959—Won by Magic 960—The Piano Box Mystery 961—The Man They Held Back 962—A Millionaire Partner 963—A Pressing Peril 964—An Australian Klondike 965—The Sultan’s Pearls 966—The Double Shuffle Club 967—Paying the Price 968—A Woman’s Hand 969—A Network of Crime 970—At Thompson’s Ranch 971—The Crossed Needles 972—The Diamond Mine Case 973—Blood Will Tell 974—An Accidental Password 975—The Crook’s Double 976—Two Plus Two 977—The Yellow Label 978—The Clever Celestial 979—The Amphitheater Plot 980—Gideon Drexel’s Millions 981—Death In Life 982—A Stolen Identity 983—Evidence by Telephone 984—The Twelve Tin Boxes 985—Clew Against Clew 986—Lady Velvet 987—Playing a Bold Game 988—A Dead Man’s Grip 989—Snarled Identities 990—A Deposit Vault Puzzle 991—The Crescent Brotherhood 992—The Stolen Pay Train 993—The Sea Fox 994—Wanted by Two Clients 995—The Van Alstine Case 996—Check No. 777 997—Partners in Peril 998—Nick Carter’s Clever Protégé 999—The Sign of the Crossed Knives 1000—The Man Who Vanished 1001—A Battle for the Right 1002—A Game of Craft 1003—Nick Carter’s Retainer 1004—Caught in the Tolls 1005—A Broken Bond 1006—The Crime of the French Café 1007—The Man Who Stole Millions 1008—The Twelve Wise Men 1009—Hidden Foes 1010—A Gamblers’ Syndicate 1011—A Chance Discovery 1012—Among the Counterfeiters 1013—A Threefold Disappearance 1014—At Odds with Scotland Yard 1015—A Princess of Crime 1016—Found on the Beach 1017—A Spinner of Death	1018—The Detective’s Pretty Neighbor 1019—A Bogus Clew 1020—The Puzzle of Five Pistols 1021—The Secret of the Marble Mantel 1022—A Bite of an Apple 1023—A Triple Crime 1024—The Stolen Race Horse 1025—Wildfire 1026—A Herald Personal 1027—The Finger of Suspicion 1028—The Crimson Clew 1029—Nick Carter Down East 1030—The Chain of Clews 1031—A Victim of Circumstances 1032—Brought to Bay 1033—The Dynamite Trap 1034—A Scrap of Black Lace 1035—The Woman of Evil 1036—A Legacy of Hate 1037—A Trusted Rogue 1038—Man Against Man 1039—The Demons of the Night 1040—The Brotherhood of Death 1041—At the Knife’s Point 1042—A Cry for Help 1043—A Stroke of Policy 1044—Hounded to Death 1045—A Bargain in Crime 1046—The Fatal Prescription 1047—The Man of Iron 1048—An Amazing Scoundrel 1049—The Chain of Evidence 1050—Paid with Death 1051—A Fight for a Throne 1052—The Woman of Steel 1053—The Seal of Death 1054—The Human Fiend 1055—A Desperate Chance 1056—A Chase in the Dark 1057—The Snare and the Game 1058—The Murray Hill Mystery 1059—Nick Carter’s Close Call 1060—The Missing Cotton King 1061—A Game of Plots 1062—The Prince of Liars 1063—The Man at the Window 1064—The Red League 1065—The Price of a Secret 1066—The Worst Case on Record 1067—From Peril to Peril 1068—The Seal of Silence 1069—Nick Carter’s Chinese Puzzle 1070—A Blackmailer’s Bluff 1071—Heard in the Dark 1072—A Checkmated Scoundrel 1073—The Cashier’s Secret 1074—Behind a Mask 1075—The Cloak of Guilt 1076—Two Villains in One 1077—The Hot Air Clew 1078—Run to Earth 1070—The Certified Check 1080—Weaving the Web 1081—Beyond Pursuit 1082—The Claws of the Tiger 1083—Driven from Cover 1084—A Deal in Diamonds 1085—The Wizard of the Cue 1086—A Race for Ten Thousand 1087—The Criminal Link 1088—The Red Signal 1089—The Secret Panel 1090—A Bonded Villain 1091—A Move in the Dark 1092—Against Desperate Odds 1093—The Telltale Photographs 1094—The Ruby Pin 1095—The Queen of Diamonds 1096—A Broken Trail 1097—An Ingenious Stratagem 1098—A Sharper’s Downfall 1099—A Race Track Gamble 1100—Without a Clew 1101—The Council of Death 1102—The Hole in the Vault 1103—In Death’s Grip 1104—A Great Conspiracy 1105—The Guilty Governor 1106—A Ring of Rascals 1107—A Masterpiece of Crime 1108—A Blow for Vengeance 1109—Tangled Threads 1110—The Crime of the Camera 1111—The Sign of the Dagger 1112—Nick Carter’s Promise 1113—Marked for Death 1114—The Limited Holdup 1115—When the Trap Was Sprung 1116—Through the Cellar Wall 1117—Under the Tiger’s Claws 1118—The Girl in the Case 1119—Behind a Throne 1120—The Lure of Gold 1121—Hand to Hand 1122—From a Prison Cell 1123—Dr. Quartz, Magician 1124—Into Nick Carter’s Web 1125—The Mystic Diagram 1126—The Hand that Won 1127—Playing a Lone Hand 1128—The Master Villain 1129—The False Claimant 1130—The Living Mask 1131—The Crime and the Motive 1132—A Mysterious Foe 1133—A Missing Man 1134—A Game Well Played 1135—A Cigarette Clew 1136—The Diamond Trail 1137—The Silent Guardian 1138—The Dead Stranger 1140—The Doctor’s Stratagem 1141—Following a Chance Clew 1142—The Bank Draft Puzzle 1143—The Price of Treachery 1144—The Silent Partner 1145—Ahead of the Game 1146—A Trap of Tangled Wire 1147—In the Gloom of Night 1148—The Unaccountable Crook 1149—A Bundle of Clews 1150—The Great Diamond Syndicate 1151—The Death Circle 1152—The Toss of a Penny 1153—One Step Too Far 1154—The Terrible Thirteen 1155—A Detective’s Theory 1156—Nick Carter’s Auto Trail 1157—A Triple Identity 1158—A Mysterious Graft 1159—A Carnival of Crime 1160—The Bloodstone Terror 1161—Trapped in His Own Net 1162—The Last Move in the Game 1163—A Victim of Deceit 1164—With Links of Steel 1165—A Plaything of Fate 1166—The Key King Clew 1167—Playing for a Fortune 1168—At Mystery’s Threshold 1169—Trapped by a Woman 1170—The Four Fingered Glove 1171—Nabob and Knave 1172—The Broadway Cross 1173—The Man Without a Conscience 1174—A Master of Deviltry 1175—Nick Carter’s Double Catch 1176—Doctor Quartz’s Quick Move 1177—The Vial of Death 1178—Nick Carter’s Star Pupils 1179—Nick Carter’s Girl Detective 1180—A Baffled Oath 1181—A Royal Thief 1182—Down and Out 1183—A Syndicate of Rascals 1184—Played to a Finish 1185—A Tangled Case 1186—In Letters of Fire

ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT

850—Wanted: A Clew
851—A Tangled Skein
852—The Bullion Mystery
853—The Man of Riddles
854—A Miscarriage of Justice
855—The Gloved Hand
856—Spoilers and the Spoils
857—The Deeper Game
858—Bolts from Blue Skies
859—Unseen Foes
860—Knaves in High Places
861—The Microbe of Crime
862—In the Toils of Fear
863—A Heritage of Trouble
864—Called to Account
865—The Just and the Unjust
866—Instinct at Fault
867—A Rogue Worth Trapping
868—A Rope of Slender Threads
869—The Last Call
870—The Spoils of Chance
871—A Struggle with Destiny
872—The Slave of Crime
873—The Crook’s Blind
874—A Rascal of Quality
875—With Shackles of Fire
876—The Man Who Changed Faces
877—The Fixed Alibi
878—Out with the Tide
879—The Soul Destroyers
880—The Wages of Rascality
881—Birds of Prey
882—When Destruction Threatens
883—The Keeper of Black Hounds
884—The Door of Doubt
885—The Wolf Within
886—A Perilous Parole
887—The Trail of the Finger Prints
888—Dodging the Law
889—A Crime in Paradise
890—On the Ragged Edge
891—The Red God of Tragedy
892—The Man Who Paid
893—The Blind Man’s Daughter
894—One Object in Life
895—As a Crook Sows
896—In Record Time
897—Held in Suspense
898—The $100,000 Kiss
899—Just One Slip
900—On a Million-dollar Trail
901—A Weird Treasure
902—The Middle Link
903—To the Ends of the Earth
904—When Honors Pall
905—The Yellow Brand
906—A New Serpent in Eden
907—When Brave Men Tremble
908—A Test of Courage
909—Where Peril Beckons
910—The Gargoni Girdle
911—Rascals & Co.
912—Too Late to Talk
913—Satan’s Apt Pupil
914—The Girl Prisoner
915—The Danger of Folly
916—One Shipwreck Too Many
917—Scourged by Fear
918—The Red Plague
919—Scoundrels Rampant
920—From Clew to Clew
921—When Rogues Conspire
922—Twelve in a Grave
923—The Great Opium Case
924—A Conspiracy of Rumors
925—A Klondike Claim
926—The Evil Formula
927—The Man of Many Faces
928—The Great Enigma
929—The Burden of Proof
930—The Stolen Brain
931—A Titled Counterfeiter
932—The Magic Necklace
933—Round the World for a Quarter
934—Over the Edge of the World
935—In the Grip of Fate
936—The Case of Many Clews
937—The Sealed Door
938—Nick Carter and the Green Goods Men
939—The Man Without a Will
940—Tracked Across the Atlantic
941—A Clew from the Unknown
942—The Crime of a Countess
943—A Mixed-up Mess
944—The Great Money-order Swindle
945—The Adder’s Brood
946—A Wall Street Haul
947—For a Pawned Crown
948—Sealed Orders
949—The Hate that Kills
950—The American Marquis
951—The Needy Nine
952—Fighting Against Millions
953—Outlaws of the Blue
954—The Old Detective’s Pupil
955—Found in the Jungle
956—The Mysterious Mall Robbery
957—Broken Bars
958—A Fair Criminal
959—Won by Magic
960—The Piano Box Mystery
961—The Man They Held Back
962—A Millionaire Partner
963—A Pressing Peril
964—An Australian Klondike
965—The Sultan’s Pearls
966—The Double Shuffle Club
967—Paying the Price
968—A Woman’s Hand
969—A Network of Crime
970—At Thompson’s Ranch
971—The Crossed Needles
972—The Diamond Mine Case
973—Blood Will Tell
974—An Accidental Password
975—The Crook’s Double
976—Two Plus Two
977—The Yellow Label
978—The Clever Celestial
979—The Amphitheater Plot
980—Gideon Drexel’s Millions
981—Death In Life
982—A Stolen Identity
983—Evidence by Telephone
984—The Twelve Tin Boxes
985—Clew Against Clew
986—Lady Velvet
987—Playing a Bold Game
988—A Dead Man’s Grip
989—Snarled Identities
990—A Deposit Vault Puzzle
991—The Crescent Brotherhood
992—The Stolen Pay Train
993—The Sea Fox
994—Wanted by Two Clients
995—The Van Alstine Case
996—Check No. 777
997—Partners in Peril
998—Nick Carter’s Clever Protégé
999—The Sign of the Crossed Knives
1000—The Man Who Vanished
1001—A Battle for the Right
1002—A Game of Craft
1003—Nick Carter’s Retainer
1004—Caught in the Tolls
1005—A Broken Bond
1006—The Crime of the French Café
1007—The Man Who Stole Millions
1008—The Twelve Wise Men
1009—Hidden Foes
1010—A Gamblers’ Syndicate
1011—A Chance Discovery
1012—Among the Counterfeiters
1013—A Threefold Disappearance
1014—At Odds with Scotland Yard
1015—A Princess of Crime
1016—Found on the Beach
1017—A Spinner of Death

1018—The Detective’s Pretty Neighbor
1019—A Bogus Clew
1020—The Puzzle of Five Pistols
1021—The Secret of the Marble Mantel
1022—A Bite of an Apple
1023—A Triple Crime
1024—The Stolen Race Horse
1025—Wildfire
1026—A Herald Personal
1027—The Finger of Suspicion
1028—The Crimson Clew
1029—Nick Carter Down East
1030—The Chain of Clews
1031—A Victim of Circumstances
1032—Brought to Bay
1033—The Dynamite Trap
1034—A Scrap of Black Lace
1035—The Woman of Evil
1036—A Legacy of Hate
1037—A Trusted Rogue
1038—Man Against Man
1039—The Demons of the Night
1040—The Brotherhood of Death
1041—At the Knife’s Point
1042—A Cry for Help
1043—A Stroke of Policy
1044—Hounded to Death
1045—A Bargain in Crime
1046—The Fatal Prescription
1047—The Man of Iron
1048—An Amazing Scoundrel
1049—The Chain of Evidence
1050—Paid with Death
1051—A Fight for a Throne
1052—The Woman of Steel
1053—The Seal of Death
1054—The Human Fiend
1055—A Desperate Chance
1056—A Chase in the Dark
1057—The Snare and the Game
1058—The Murray Hill Mystery
1059—Nick Carter’s Close Call
1060—The Missing Cotton King
1061—A Game of Plots
1062—The Prince of Liars
1063—The Man at the Window
1064—The Red League
1065—The Price of a Secret
1066—The Worst Case on Record
1067—From Peril to Peril
1068—The Seal of Silence
1069—Nick Carter’s Chinese Puzzle
1070—A Blackmailer’s Bluff
1071—Heard in the Dark
1072—A Checkmated Scoundrel
1073—The Cashier’s Secret
1074—Behind a Mask
1075—The Cloak of Guilt
1076—Two Villains in One
1077—The Hot Air Clew
1078—Run to Earth
1070—The Certified Check
1080—Weaving the Web
1081—Beyond Pursuit
1082—The Claws of the Tiger
1083—Driven from Cover
1084—A Deal in Diamonds
1085—The Wizard of the Cue
1086—A Race for Ten Thousand
1087—The Criminal Link
1088—The Red Signal
1089—The Secret Panel
1090—A Bonded Villain
1091—A Move in the Dark
1092—Against Desperate Odds
1093—The Telltale Photographs
1094—The Ruby Pin
1095—The Queen of Diamonds
1096—A Broken Trail
1097—An Ingenious Stratagem
1098—A Sharper’s Downfall
1099—A Race Track Gamble
1100—Without a Clew
1101—The Council of Death
1102—The Hole in the Vault
1103—In Death’s Grip
1104—A Great Conspiracy
1105—The Guilty Governor
1106—A Ring of Rascals
1107—A Masterpiece of Crime
1108—A Blow for Vengeance
1109—Tangled Threads
1110—The Crime of the Camera
1111—The Sign of the Dagger
1112—Nick Carter’s Promise
1113—Marked for Death
1114—The Limited Holdup
1115—When the Trap Was Sprung
1116—Through the Cellar Wall
1117—Under the Tiger’s Claws
1118—The Girl in the Case
1119—Behind a Throne
1120—The Lure of Gold
1121—Hand to Hand
1122—From a Prison Cell
1123—Dr. Quartz, Magician
1124—Into Nick Carter’s Web
1125—The Mystic Diagram
1126—The Hand that Won
1127—Playing a Lone Hand
1128—The Master Villain
1129—The False Claimant
1130—The Living Mask
1131—The Crime and the Motive
1132—A Mysterious Foe
1133—A Missing Man
1134—A Game Well Played
1135—A Cigarette Clew
1136—The Diamond Trail
1137—The Silent Guardian
1138—The Dead Stranger
1140—The Doctor’s Stratagem
1141—Following a Chance Clew
1142—The Bank Draft Puzzle
1143—The Price of Treachery
1144—The Silent Partner
1145—Ahead of the Game
1146—A Trap of Tangled Wire
1147—In the Gloom of Night
1148—The Unaccountable Crook
1149—A Bundle of Clews
1150—The Great Diamond Syndicate
1151—The Death Circle
1152—The Toss of a Penny
1153—One Step Too Far
1154—The Terrible Thirteen
1155—A Detective’s Theory
1156—Nick Carter’s Auto Trail
1157—A Triple Identity
1158—A Mysterious Graft
1159—A Carnival of Crime
1160—The Bloodstone Terror
1161—Trapped in His Own Net
1162—The Last Move in the Game
1163—A Victim of Deceit
1164—With Links of Steel
1165—A Plaything of Fate
1166—The Key King Clew
1167—Playing for a Fortune
1168—At Mystery’s Threshold
1169—Trapped by a Woman
1170—The Four Fingered Glove
1171—Nabob and Knave
1172—The Broadway Cross
1173—The Man Without a Conscience
1174—A Master of Deviltry
1175—Nick Carter’s Double Catch
1176—Doctor Quartz’s Quick Move
1177—The Vial of Death
1178—Nick Carter’s Star Pupils
1179—Nick Carter’s Girl Detective
1180—A Baffled Oath
1181—A Royal Thief
1182—Down and Out
1183—A Syndicate of Rascals
1184—Played to a Finish
1185—A Tangled Case
1186—In Letters of Fire

In order that there may be no confusion, we desire to say that the books listed below will be issued during the respective months in New York City and vicinity. They may not reach the readers at a distance promptly, on account of delays in transportation.

To be published in July, 1926.
1187—Crossed Wires	1188—A Plot Uncovered
To be published In August, 1926.
1189—The Cab Driver’s Secret	1190—Nick Carter’s Death Warrant
To be published In September, 1926.
1191—The Plot that Failed 1192—Nick Carter’s Masterpiece	1193—A Prince of Rogues
To be published in October, 1926.
1194—In the Lap of Danger	1195—The Man from London
To be published in November, 1926.
1196—Circumstantial Evidence	1197—The Pretty Stenographer Mystery
To be published in December, 1926.
1198—A Villainous Scheme	1199—A Plot Within a Plot

Following a Chance Clew

OR,
NICK CARTER’S LUCKY FIND
BY
NICHOLAS CARTER
Author of the celebrated stories of Nick Carter’s adventures,
which are published exclusively in the New Magnet Library,
conceded to be among the best detective tales ever written.

STREET & SMITH CORPORATION
PUBLISHERS
79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York

(Printed in the United States of America)
All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign
languages, including the Scandinavian.

FOLLOWING A CHANCE CLEW.

CHAPTER I.
ON A SEPTEMBER NIGHT.

“Nathan Lusker.”

Nick Carter read the sign over the jeweler’s store on Eighth Avenue and stopped to glance critically at the place.

He noticed that the “regulator” indicated midnight.

His thoughts flew back to another midnight earlier in the week, when Lusker’s store had been cleaned out by burglars.

The robbery had been charged to a mysterious crook known as Doc Helstone, who was supposed to be the leader of a clever gang of lawbreakers.

Nick had been asked to break up this gang, which had baffled some of the best men of Inspector McLaughlin’s staff. A proposition had been made to him that day, and he had promised an answer on the morrow.

Probably he would have decided to refuse the job, for he had a lot of work on hand; but, as he strolled up the avenue on that September night, an adventure was waiting for him which was to alter his purpose, and set him upon the track of a remarkable scoundrel.

Lusker’s place was nearly in the middle of a block. As Nick turned his eyes away from the window, he noticed, on the street corner beyond, a group of about a dozen men and women.

There was nothing unusual about them except that they were all looking one way. Their attention had evidently been strongly attracted by something which was taking place on the side street, to the westward.

Suddenly they all hurried in that direction. Other persons, attracted by this movement, joined in it.

All whom Nick could see were hastening toward this center of interest—all, except one man, who was walking the other way.

This man came out of the street wherein the crowd was gathering, and turned up the avenue. Nick saw him for only a moment, and at a considerable distance, but he remembered him.

When Nick came to the street corner, he saw, about forty yards from the avenue, a considerable crowd, upon the downtown side. He quickly made his way to the midst of it.

There he saw a young man kneeling on the sidewalk, and supporting upon his arm the head of a woman.

The man seemed considerably agitated. The woman’s face, indistinct in the dim light, was white and rigid.

“Do you know this woman?” asked Nick, quickly, of the young man, after he had cast a single glance upon the unconscious figure.

“No; I never saw her before.”

“Do you know a tall man with a light brown beard parted in the middle, a dark suit of——”

“Why, that’s the man who has gone to ring for an ambulance,” was the reply. “This lady was with him when she was taken sick.”

Nick did not wait to hear any more. He slipped through the crowd like an eel, and darted away.

He was on the track of the man whom he had seen walking away from the spot to which everybody else was hurrying.

The avenue was brightly lighted, but the man was not in sight. By rapid, clever work, Nick traced him to Forty-first Street, where he had entered a carriage.

A hackman, who had seen this, did not remember ever to have seen the carriage or the driver or the passenger before.

“Was the man looking about for a carriage when you first saw him?” asked Nick.

“No; he knew where to find one,” was the reply.

“Did he give any directions to the driver?”

“He held up his hand in a queer sort of way, and the driver nodded. Nothing was said.”

Evidently the carriage had been waiting, and the coachman and the passenger knew each other well. They would be harder to trace on that account.

For the moment Nick gave up the chase. He returned to the crowd around the unconscious woman.

She still lay where Nick had last seen her. A policeman had come, and had rung for an ambulance.

The young man who had been supporting the woman’s head had relinquished his burden, and just as Nick came up he was edging away through the crowd. He seemed to desire to escape further observation.

Nick touched him on the arm, and the young man faced about.

“Don’t try to get away,” said the detective. “You won’t help matters by that.”

“Why shouldn’t I go away?”

“Because,” said Nick, calmly, “you will direct suspicion toward yourself.”

“Suspicion! Suspicion of what?”

“Murder!” replied the detective, in a low, steady voice.

This sinister word produced a tremendous effect upon the young man. But he came out of it in a way which showed he had plenty of nerve.

Nick had drawn him into a doorway, and the two were almost unobserved.

“Look here,” said the young man, “I’m no fool, and I begin to see that something is wrong here. But when it comes to murder, I don’t believe you’re right. That lady isn’t very sick.”

“She isn’t sick at all,” said Nick; “she’s wounded.”

“Wounded!”

“Yes. I saw at a glance that she was suffering from a blow with a sharp-pointed instrument. She has been stabbed, probably, with a stiletto.”

“Then it was that man——”

“Either that man or yourself,” said Nick, interrupting.

“But I swear by all that I hold sacred that I never set eyes on the woman before this evening. I was passing along the street when I saw her ahead of me.

“The man whom I described to you had just overtaken her, and they were talking. At that moment a drunken man pushed violently against me. I looked around. He lurched away.

“Then I turned toward Eighth Avenue again, and at that moment I saw the woman fall into the man’s arms, with a low cry. I didn’t see him stab her, and I didn’t see any weapon. I ran up to offer assistance, and he said: ‘This lady is ill. Take her for a moment while I summon assistance. I will ring for an ambulance. It will be the quickest way to get a doctor.’

“I took the woman out of his arms because I couldn’t let her fall on the sidewalk. He hurried away. You know the rest.

“Now, then, I maintain that you have no right to detain me. I’m going home.”

“Do you suppose that you could do so, even if I consented? I tell you that a detective has his eye on you at this moment, though you do not see him. Do you think that policeman would have been stupid enough to let you get away if he hadn’t known that somebody was on hand to look out for you?”

“And who are you?”

“I’m a man who may believe in your innocence and help you to prove it, if your conduct justifies it.”

The young man looked at Nick as if he meditated making a break for liberty, but something in the detective’s glance restrained him. The stronger mind prevailed.

“What would you advise me to do?” he asked.

“Go back and stand near the policeman,” said Nick. “Be on hand when the ambulance surgeon makes his examination.

“You will be taken to the police station. When you get there tell your story as you’ve told it to me. If there’s anything else, save it till you see me again. What is your name?”

“Austin L. Reeves. I live at ninety-two West Thirty-ninth Street.”

“Very well. Here comes the ambulance.”

Though fully twenty minutes had elapsed since the woman had received the injury, her condition had not changed in the least. Nick had felt certain that the night was so warm that no harm would result from her remaining outdoors. Otherwise he would have taken her to a drug store or into one of the houses.

The others, expecting the ambulance every minute, and failing to perceive the real nature of the woman’s trouble, had not thought of doing anything.

When the ambulance surgeon bent over her, he saw at once that she was suffering from a serious stab wound.

Not a drop of blood was visible, which showed that the weapon used must have been as fine as a needle.

The surgeon whispered a word in the ear of the policeman, who instantly whistled for assistance. Then, by Nick’s order, he placed young Reeves under arrest, and took him to the station house.

The other officer who had responded to the whistle, tried to secure witnesses. He could find nobody.

Nick, a thousand times more skillful, had been engaged in that search for some minutes, but when the ambulance rolled away with the wounded woman in it, he had not succeeded in finding a single person who could throw any light upon the matter.

Apparently nobody but Reeves had seen the woman pass along the street, or had noticed the man who overtook her.

To be sure, there was the drunken man, of whom Reeves had spoken, but, accepting Reeves’ story as true, the supposed drunkard was doubtless a pal of the murderer, and was there to distract the attention of any person who might be likely to interfere.

The blinder the case the more anxious Nick was to follow it up. He saw in it one of the most fascinating murder mysteries which he had ever encountered.

It was probable that at the hospital something would be learned which would be of value, but Nick could not wait for it. There is nothing like following a trail when it is warm, and so Nick stuck to the ground.

After about an hour’s hard work, his efforts were rewarded. By this time the rumor that the case was a murder had begun to spread in the precinct.

The local detectives were out on it, and they dropped a word here and there which was taken up and borne along.

In the course of Nick’s search he worked along the cross-town street toward Ninth Avenue, finding out what every person knew.

At last, just in the doorway of one of the large apartment houses he found a man and woman talking about the case. Both of them were known to the police.

The man was a hardened young rascal, not long out of the penitentiary. The woman was known as “Crazy Mag,” though she was not really insane.

She was somewhat intoxicated, and was talking loudly. Nick entered the hall and pretended to be looking for a name on the bell rack.

“Shut up, Mag,” he heard the young tough whisper. “You’ll get yourself into trouble.”

“What’s the matter with you?” she exclaimed, roughly. “I saw the woman come out of No. 349. Why shouldn’t I say so?”

“I’ll tell you why,” said her companion. “Because that woman was put out of the way by Doc Helstone’s gang, and if you talk too much you’ll follow her.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if you were right,” said Nick to himself. “At any rate, this clew settles one thing—I take the contract to trap Doc Helstone’s gang.”

CHAPTER II.
A NOVEL TIMEKEEPER.

It was about four o’clock in the morning when Nick and the New York chief of police sat down together in the latter’s house to discuss the events of the night. What had happened in the meantime the reader will hear in Nick’s own words.

He had rapidly described the events with which the reader is familiar and had come to the scene in the hall.

“I went directly to No. 349,” Nick proceeded, “and there I found evidence which convinced me that Helstone’s gang had made the house its headquarters.

“I got no information from the people in the house. They only knew that a ‘club’ of some kind had hired one of the upper apartments.

“Of course it was empty. The gang had taken the alarm. But I saw the work of Helstone’s carpenter.

“You remember that when the central office men arrived just too late at Helstone’s place on East Tenth Street, they found the rooms full of concealed panels and secret cupboards—the cleverest things of the kind that had ever been seen in New York.

“Well, there was the same work over here, but the rooms were entirely deserted. The gang had got away. The last man hadn’t been gone an hour.”

“Can that be proved?”

“I could swear to it,” said Nick, smiling. “There is running water in one of the rooms. Under the faucet was a pewter drinking cup.

“The faucet leaked. The cup was very nearly full.

“The dropping water filled this little bottle in one minute and ten seconds. The bottle holds the hundredth part of a pint. The cup holds half a pint. Therefore, the leaking water would fill it in fifty-eight seconds. So somebody set that cup under the faucet less than an hour before I arrived.”

“Upon my word, Nick,” said the chief, “you can make a clock out of anything.”

“Dropping water is a first-rate timepiece,” Nick replied. “That’s why I had this bottle made.”

“Except the joiner work, was there anything in the rooms to show that Helstone had occupied them?”

“No, but it’s pretty well known in the district now. That’s the peculiar thing about Helstone. He always knows just when to flit.

“Before he goes, nobody knows anything about him. Ten minutes later, everybody knows.”

“But nobody has ever seen Helstone himself.”

“No; the inspector has got descriptions of some of his men, but there is no description of Helstone. He’s really only a rumor, a mysterious influence guiding the movements of those ruffians.”

“Well,” said the chief, after a pause, “what did you do next?”

“I went to the hospital.”

“Is the woman dead?”

“She lies unconscious, but will probably recover. Her clothing bears no marks by which she can be identified. She may prove to be a mystery.”

“How was she dressed?”

“A rather ordinary gray dress, with a simple hat to match. Her underclothing was unusually fine.”

“In the nature of a disguise,” said the superintendent. “A rich woman who wished to seem poor.”

“Perhaps; but here’s the great point which makes the case extraordinary and seems to connect the woman with Helstone.

“In a pocket of her dress were five loose diamonds. Four of them were ordinary stones worth about four hundred dollars apiece.

“The fifth was a splendid gem of the first water. It is worth over five thousand dollars.”

“Looks as if she was a member of the gang, and was trying to get away with some of the plunder.”

“It certainly has that appearance.”

“What did you do with the jewels?” asked the chief, after a pause.

“I sent them to headquarters, and furnished a description of them to the papers. Probably the last editions of some of them will have the description.”

The chief nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “we want the stones identified as soon as possible.”

“And also the woman,” Nick added.

“What is her description?”

“Age thirty, medium height, weighs about one hundred and thirty pounds, hazel eyes, very abundant hair, of a peculiar bronze hue; regular features, and, in general, unusual personal beauty. There are no distinguishing marks.”

“Looks like a refined woman?”

“Decidedly.”

“Where is the wound?”

“In the back. The dagger did not touch the heart, but it grazed the spine, and there are signs that paralysis will follow, ending, of course, in death.”

“You’ve decided to take charge of the case, Nick?”

“I have.”

“Good. You have informed Inspector McLaughlin?”

“Certainly.”

“There’s nothing that I can do.”

“I think not, thank you.”

“Then I’ll get back to bed. Good luck to you, Nick. Helstone is game worthy of your skill, but you’ll bag him.”

At nine o’clock on that morning Nick was in Inspector McLaughlin’s office.

He held in his hand the five diamonds which had been taken from the wounded woman’s pocket.

“These four stones,” said the inspector, “will be hard to identify. The big one should find its rightful owner easily.”

He had no sooner spoken the words than Nathan Lusker was announced. He came to see whether the diamonds were a part of his stolen stock.

Lusker failed to identify them. His description did not fit the large jewel at all. This stone was cut in a peculiar manner, so that its owner should be able to describe it in a way to settle all doubt.

When Lusker had departed, an East Side jeweler called. He had no better fortune. The stones were evidently not his.

Then a card was brought in by an officer.

“Morton H. Parks,” the inspector read. “He’s not a jeweler. Bring him in.”

Mr. Parks entered immediately. He was a fine-looking man of middle age, with the face of a scholar.

He wore neither beard nor mustache.

“I called to examine some jewels,” he said. “They were, I understand, found last night in the possession of an unfortunate woman—a thief—who was stabbed by some of her accomplices.”

“Well, as to that I wouldn’t speak positively,” said the inspector, “but we have five diamonds here, and I don’t doubt that they were stolen.”

“I have reason to think,” replied Mr. Parks, “that the larger of them was stolen from my residence.”

He proceeded at once to describe the stone, and he had not spoken a dozen words before the inspector was convinced that the owner of the diamonds had appeared.

One of the smaller stones he also described very closely, and he expressed the opinion that all of them were his.

“They were stolen on the night of August 3d,” said he. “A burglar took the entire contents of my wife’s jewel casket.”

“What else did he take?” asked Nick.

Mr. Parks seemed to be much embarrassed.

“Nothing else,” he replied, at last, “except some money which was in my pocketbook.”

“What was your total loss?”

“In excess of thirty thousand dollars.”

“Why did you not report your loss to the police?”

The visitor tried to speak, but his voice stuck in his throat. He seemed to be suffering great mental distress.

“Was it because you suspected some member of your family?”

Mr. Parks bowed his head in assent. Then, with an effort, he recovered his self-command.

“I am ashamed to confess,” he said, “that I did at first suspect my nephew, who lived with us. It is dreadful to think of it, but circumstances pointed to him. I am rejoiced to find that I was wholly wrong, and that the robbery was done by an organized gang of burglars.”

“Your identification of the large diamond,” said the inspector, “satisfies me that you are the owner. Yet, on account of its value in money, and its value to us as a clew, I wish to be doubly certain. Is there any way you can strengthen the identification?”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Parks, “my wife knows the stones as well as I. You see, the large diamond was the pendant of a necklace. The smaller ones, I believe, were in rings belonging to her, though, of course, I cannot be sure now that the settings have been removed.”

“Is Mrs. Parks at home?”

“No; she is in Stamford, Connecticut. She went there yesterday morning upon a visit. I have telegraphed her to return.”

“Have you received any answer?” asked Nick.

“I did not expect any. She would certainly come.”

At this moment there was a knock at the door.

A telegram was brought in. It was addressed to Mr. Parks, and had reached his house after he left.

The butler, knowing where he had gone, had sent it after him.

He tore it open.

“From Stamford,” he said, and then his face grew white.

“Merciful Heaven!” he cried. “Gentlemen, my wife has not been to Stamford.”

“Have you her picture?” asked Nick.

For answer Parks drew out his watch and opened the back of the case with a trembling hand. He then held the picture it contained before Nick’s eyes.

“Mr. Parks,” said Nick, “tell me the truth. Was it your nephew whom you suspected of that robbery or——”

“My wife? Yes; may Heaven pity and forgive her! It was my wife.”

“Will you go to her?”

“Can it be true?”

“She lies in Bellevue Hospital, at the point of death.”

CHAPTER III.
THE ONLY WITNESS.

Mr. Parks seemed to be greatly agitated by this intelligence, and it was some time before he regained his self-command. Then Nick asked him how it happened he had had no suspicions on reading the description of the wounded woman in the morning papers.

“Read that,” he said, thrusting a paper into Nick’s hands. “Does that describe her?”

“It is all wrong,” said Nick.

“And that picture?”

“It is a pure fake. There has been no opportunity of getting a picture of her.”

“The description and the picture caught my eye before I read about the diamonds. Therefore I never thought of my previous suspicions of my wife, except to be thankful that they had been proved groundless.”

“Why did you suspect her at first?”

“In one word, because it seemed utterly impossible that anybody else should have done it. The theory of burglars would not hold water. One of my servants had been ill, and had been about the house with a light almost all night, and had seen nothing of robbers.”

“Did you tell the servants of your loss?”

“No; I questioned them without letting them know anything unusual had happened.”

“They have been the guilty ones.”

Parks shook his head.

“I watched them all. They were honest. Then I learned that my wife speculated in stocks. There are more women stock gamblers in New York than most people could be made to believe.

“She had wasted her private fortune, and had got all the money she could from me. Heaven knows that I did not begrudge it. I only asked for her confidence, but she would not give it to me.”

“How about the nephew?”

“Out of the question entirely. He was not in the house. He was in a sleeping car bound for Boston. I only mentioned him to you because I could think of no other way to avoid mentioning my wife.

“And now, gentlemen, do not detain me longer. I have recovered from the first shock of this dreadful news. I must go to her. Guilty or innocent, she is my wife, and I will protect and help her so long as she has need of me.”

All three went at once to Bellevue Hospital.

When they stood beside the motionless and deathlike figure, the grief of the husband was pitiful to see.

He knelt by the bed, and taking his wife’s hand gently in his, he kissed it.

The patient occupied a cot in the accident ward. Several other injured persons were there.

Parks turned to ask Nick whether his wife could be removed from the hospital, but Nick had vanished.

Inspector McLaughlin could not tell where he had gone.

“He seems to be directing everything,” said Parks, “and I wished to ask whether I might take my wife to my house.”

“The surgeon can answer you,” said the inspector, pointing to a white-bearded and venerable man, who at that moment approached the cot.

“Then the police will offer no objection?” said Parks.

“Certainly not.”

Parks at once turned to the surgeon and besought permission to take his wife home at once.

“It is impossible,” said the surgeon.

“Why?”

“Because the patient could not endure the removal.”

“Is there any hope?”

“There is a faint hope.”

“Thank God for that.”

“In a few moments we shall make another examination of the wound. An operation may be necessary to remove a splinter of bone. After that she must be kept perfectly quiet.”

“Will you not allow me to see her?”

“We cannot prevent you, but it would endanger her life.”

Parks bowed his head.

“At least I can secure her a separate room,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And I can send a nurse to assist the regular hospital attendants.”

“You may.”

“You will send for me if she becomes conscious?”

“Yes; and now I must ask you to withdraw. I think it much better that you should do so.”

Without making any protest against this decree, Parks again knelt beside his wife and kissed her. Then he slowly walked out of the ward.

The surgeon beckoned to a nurse. Then he and Inspector McLaughlin went into a small adjoining room.

“Why did you do that, Nick?” asked the inspector, when they were alone.

Nick was removing the disguise in which he had appeared as the surgeon.

“For two reasons,” he replied. “The first is that Mrs. Parks really ought not to be removed. But if Parks had been told so less firmly he might have insisted.

“My second reason for keeping her here is that while she will almost certainly die, she will, perhaps, have a few minutes of consciousness. We must know what she says.”

“That is true.”

“And Parks would naturally conceal it.”

“He would, since it would be a confession tending to degrade her.”

Nick said nothing.

“You can’t blame him for wanting to keep this affair quiet,” continued the inspector.

“It is only natural; but we must hear what she has to say if ever able to speak rationally. We must do it in common justice.”

“Justice to her?”

“No; to the young man whom we hold under arrest.”

“Reeves?”

“The same.”

“He ought easily to be able to clear himself, if he is innocent.”

“On the contrary, he will find it very hard.”

“Well, you know best, Nick. Of course I have not had a chance to study the case you have. What will be the difficulty?”

“Lack of witnesses.”

“That seems incredible.”

“It is true. By chance that scene upon the street seems to have been wholly unobserved.

“Reeves is found with this wounded woman in his arms. We have only his word to explain how he came by her. A coroner’s jury would certainly hold him.”

“What do you think?”

“It is possible that he is in the plot. He may have expected to escape. In fact, he came near succeeding.”

“You saw the other man—the fellow with the brown beard.”

“I had a glimpse of him, but I know nothing that connects him with the crime.”

“You’re right, Nick. Reeves is in a tighter place than I had supposed.”

“But one word from this woman can certainly save him. I propose that we shall hear that word.”

“Well, Nick, take your own course. What I want is to see this crime fastened upon Helstone, and then to see you run that villain to earth.”

“As to the connection of this crime with that gang—— Ah, here is Chick.”

The door opened at that moment and Nick’s famous assistant entered. Even the inspector, who had seen him in many disguises, would not have known him but for Nick’s words.

“Well, Chick,” said his chief.

“Crazy Mag is our only direct witness, so far,” said Chick. “She is the only person who can testify that the woman came out of that house.”

“Did anybody see her go in?”

“No; that was where I had trouble. It seemed impossible that she should have got in without being seen.

“I found a lot of people who ought to have seen her, but not one of them remembered her. At last, however, I struck the clew.

“Helstone’s gang had a secret entrance. They had rooms also in a rear building. To get into that house they passed through an alley from the street above.

“No. 349 and this rear building are connected by an iron bridge intended as a fire escape for the latter.

“Their use of this bridge had begun to be noticed, and this was probably one of the reasons why they had to skip.

“At any rate, I’m convinced that the woman entered that way. She could have done it all right, whereas the other entrance was under somebody’s observation almost all the evening.”

“Do you feel sure that she went to the rooms of the Helstone gang?”

“Yes. The house is tenanted by respectable people. They all say that they did not see her, and I believe them.”

“Is there any trace of the man with the brown beard?”

“He has been seen in the neighborhood, but nobody remembers anything about him. It is going to be nearly impossible to trace him.”

“I don’t mean to trace him,” said Nick.

“What!” exclaimed the inspector.

“That’s the state of the case,” Nick rejoined. “You won’t find me camping on the trail of that fellow any more.”

“What will you do?”

“Look here, inspector, your men have been after Helstone for some time, haven’t they?”

“Certainly.”

“And they haven’t caught him?”

“Equally true, I’m sorry to say.”

“Well, then, I think it is time to quit going after him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going ahead of him.”

“You are.”

“Yes; no detective can go to him, it’s time to make him come to the detective.”

“How’ll you do that?”

“I’ll set a trap.”

“A trap?”

“Yes, a mouse trap.”

“For Doc Helstone?”

“For his whole gang.”

CHAPTER IV.
THE DISPLACED BANDAGE.

Nick and Chick left the hospital together, but they soon separated. Chick resumed his search for clews in the neighborhood of the Helstone gang’s last haunt, and Nick, presumably, went to prepare his mouse trap.

Not long after they left the hospital Dr. Reginald Morris, the well-known expert in the surgery of wounds, called to offer his services in the Parks case. He had been engaged by Mr. Parks.

About three o’clock in the afternoon a pale, dark-haired woman of middle age arrived and announced herself as the trained nurse engaged by Mr. Parks.

She presented his card, on which was written the request that she be allowed to attend the wounded woman.

She was permitted to do so, and showed at once to the surgeon’s experienced eye that she understood most thoroughly the care of the sick.

An operation, to clear the wound, had just been performed, and the bandages had just been replaced. Surgery could do no more. The work of the trained nurse began.

For about an hour she remained almost motionless by the bedside of the patient. During this interval one of the hospital nurses entered the room several times.

There was no change in the condition of the patient. But a change was to come.

The regular attendant had gone out after her fourth visit. The nurse suddenly rose and listened at the door. All was quiet.

She approached the patient stealthily, then paused and listened again. Not a sound broke the solemn quiet of this abode of the suffering.

The nurse drew back the bedclothing and looked intently at the bandage. Then she stretched out her hand, made a rapid motion and replaced the clothing.

Seating herself again beside the bed, the nurse waited quietly. Presently there was a change in the appearance of the white face on the pillow.

A flush tinged the cheeks and crept up toward the brow.

The patient, who had hitherto lain quiet as a statue, began to move restlessly and murmured in her swoon.

“Fever,” muttered the nurse. “Will she speak?”

Rising gently, the nurse laid her ear closely to the lips of the moaning woman. She could hear no articulate words.

The delirium increased. Now the words began to come, but they were wild and wandering.

“Will she answer me?” whispered the nurse. “Not yet.”

She waited some minutes longer. Then again she bent over the sufferer.

“Who did this? who did this?” the nurse repeated over and over.

“Helstone, Helstone,” murmured the patient.

“Tell me, quick. What is his real name, his real name?”

There was no answer. With a gesture of impatience, the nurse turned away for an instant from the patient whom she was so barbarously torturing.

Then she screamed. It was not a loud cry, but a scream stifled by suddenly closed lips.

She had turned to meet the gaze of sharp eyes which, for some minutes, had rested upon her, though she was far from suspecting that she was observed.

Nick Carter had crept quietly into the room.

As the faithless nurse fell back before him, he quickly lifted the patient and gently replaced the bandages. Then, by the touch of a bell, he summoned a surgeon.

“The patient seems worse,” said Nick. “I discovered that her bandage had become displaced.”

“Didn’t you notice it?” asked the surgeon, sharply, of the nurse.

“No, I didn’t,” replied the woman.

She had recovered a part of her self-command upon finding that Nick did not intend to expose her immediately.

“I can’t trust her with you again,” said the surgeon.

He summoned a nurse from the adjacent ward.

As he passed Nick he whispered:

“Is there anything wrong here?”

“I’m afraid that there is,” Nick replied.

The detective turned to the unfaithful nurse.

“Come with me,” he said.

She obeyed him without a word.

He led her to the private room of one of the surgeons which had been placed at his disposal.

“Now, murderess,” said he, sternly, “tell me who sent you to do this work?”

“What work?”

“Don’t trifle with me. There is a noose around your neck.”

“No, there isn’t,” said the woman, coolly. “I was employed to come here and attend that patient. I did it as well as I knew how.”

Nick could not deny to himself the force of her words. He had not seen her remove the bandage. He could not swear that she had done so. It might have been done by the sick woman herself.

A nurse cannot be prosecuted for an error of judgment unless it amounts to criminal carelessness.

It might be doubtful whether in this case Nick could prove to the satisfaction of a jury that this woman intended to kill the patient left in her charge.

He was far too skillful, however, to show the weakness of his position.

“Somebody stabbed that woman. That same person hired you to come here.

“When I lay my hand upon the man who struck the blow, I will prove you to be his accomplice, for I will show that he hired you to come here.”

The woman grew a shade paler, but she answered firmly:

“I was engaged by Mr. Parks himself. He came to my apartment about two o’clock this afternoon. I brought his card with a note written upon it to the hospital.”

“Did you have any acquaintance with him?”

“No.”

“Why did he come to you?”

“He was advised to come.”

“By whom?”

“Several physicians, he said.”

“Their names?”

“I have forgotten.”

“Did he not say that he knew you for a woman who would do what was required of you, and make no fuss about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you not recommended to him by crooks, as a murderess?”

“You insult me.”

The woman said this in a firm voice, but not with the air of innocence.

Nick, of course, had no doubt of her guilt. In these questions he was simply trying to test the strength of her position.

“What did he agree to pay you?”

“The usual fee.”

“How much money have you at the present moment in your possession?”

This question staggered her. Nick saw at once by her manner that the enormous fee she had exacted for this murderous work was then in her pocket or concealed somewhere about her clothing.

She hesitated to reply.

“Don’t go to the trouble of lying,” said Nick. “I shall have you searched anyway.

“Now, madam, let me lay the case before you. You believe that that woman was stabbed by the notorious criminal, Doc Helstone, or by his order.

“You think that she possesses the secrets of Helstone’s real identity. You tried to extort his real name from her, in her delirium and agony, fiend that you are!

“You believe that the person who hired you was Doc Helstone himself, and you wish to get a new hold upon him, or rather to be able to find him when you wish to. That’s your case in a nutshell.”

Hardened as this creature was, she shook with fear while the secrets of her heart were being read by Nick’s unerring eye.

What reply she would have made cannot be told, but her demeanor was enough for Nick. He saw that he had penetrated the secret.

But what was the effect of it upon the case?

As he revolved this question in his mind, and the wretched woman strove to frame some suitable reply to his accusation, there was a knock at the door.

Morton Parks entered, and with him was a woman who seemed to be a nurse.

When the eyes of the murderous creature, with whom Nick had been talking, fell upon Parks, they were barren of recognition.

Nick saw at once that she did not know him.

“What do I hear?” cried Parks. “An impostor has appeared claiming to be the nurse sent by me to my wife!”

“It is true,” said Nick.

The murderess scowled at these words. She pointed to Parks.

“Who is he?” she asked. “Is he the real Parks?”

“He is,” said Nick.

“Then I have been imposed upon,” said the woman, sullenly.

It required some minutes for Nick to explain the case fully to Parks. Then he asked to see the card bearing his name and the note.

Nick showed it.

“This is really one of my cards,” said Parks, “but the writing bears no resemblance to mine.”

He sat down by the table and rapidly wrote the words of the message upon a card which he took from his pocket.

There was no similarity between the two hands.

“Here is the nurse whom I really engaged,” said Parks, indicating the woman who had accompanied him. “She is well known in the hospital. As for you, murderess——”

His emotion, which he had hitherto repressed, broke out in violent reproaches as he turned upon the creature who had so nearly crushed out his wife’s last chance of life.

She bore the storm firmly and repeated her story that she had come in good faith, and had done the best she could.

Nick, however, put her under arrest, and took her to police headquarters.

There, under his rigid cross-examination, her pretenses melted away. She practically admitted what was charged against her.

Most important of all was the description which she gave of the man who had hired her.

It tallied exactly with the appearance of the man whom Nick had seen walking away from the spot where the crime had been committed.

CHAPTER V.
BENTON, THE ENGLISHMAN.

After Nick’s cross-examination of the nurse he had an interview with Inspector McLaughlin.

He was still conversing with the inspector when Chick appeared.

“Benton is your man,” said Chick.

“Not Ellis Benton?” asked the inspector, quickly.

“That’s he.”

“Has that crook set up in business again?”

“No doubt of it. I have been in his place this afternoon,” said Chick.

Perhaps the reader does not know Ellis Benton so well as the three persons who were present on the occasion described.

Therefore, it may be necessary to explain that Benton is an Englishman, about fifty years old, who has been notorious at various times, as a receiver of stolen goods.

He is undoubtedly one of the sharpest rascals in his line of business, and has made a great deal of money dishonestly. It does not do him much good, however, for he plays faro and never wins.

His enormous losses at the game make him all the more daring and grasping. His success in disposing of stolen jewels is especially remarkable.

“I’ve been in his place,” said Chick, “and I’ve learned that he has important business for to-night.”

“How did you find that out?”

“I offered to bring him a lot of stuff at midnight. He wouldn’t hear of it. His answers to my questions made me sure that he has something big on hand.

“What do you suspect?” asked the inspector.

“I’ll tell you my opinion and my plan,” said Nick. “You know that Helstone’s gang holds its plunder till it shifts its quarters. Then it turns loose upon some ‘fence.’

“When the gang was driven out of East Tenth Street, you remember, its plunder was turned over to old man Abrahams.”

“Yes,” said the inspector, “my men got a tremendous lot of it.”

“The stuff, you will remember,” said Nick, “was all turned in the night before Abrahams’ place was raided.”

“True.”

“And Abrahams maintained that at least a dozen persons had brought it.”

“Yes.”

“Well, I conclude from that that Helstone’s gang does not intrust its plunder to any one person. When it is to be disposed of the whole gang is present.

“There’s no other way of understanding Abrahams’ story which was as near the truth as anything he ever said. It was all right except his descriptions of the men. They were drawn from his imagination.”

“Yes,” assented the inspector, “he was too shrewd to put his customers in quod. He may need them when he gets out himself.”

“Just so,” said Nick, “and now for my plan. I believe that Helstone’s gang is just on the point of disposing of its plunder.

“None of Lusker’s stuff has shown up anywhere yet, nor Alterberg’s either. The gang still holds it.

“But now that attention is directed to them they’ll want to turn their swag into cash. Greenbacks are the things to have if sudden flight is necessary. Yes; some ‘fence’ is going to get Helstone’s stuff very soon.

“Now, in my opinion, Benton is the man they’ll go to. He is just the man for them. I’ve had Chick look over the field, and he agrees with me that there are ten chances to one that Benton will get their plunder.

“What I propose to do, therefore, is to capture Benton’s place on the quiet. Not a whisper must be heard on the outside.

“When that is done I’ll wait in the old thief’s place. I’ll disguise myself as Benton, and receive his customers.”

“Very pretty,” said the inspector. “You’ll bag a lot of game.”

“We ought to get a good part of the gang.”

“I think so, but you won’t get Helstone himself.”

“Why not?”

“He’s too shrewd to put his head into the trap.”

“I don’t agree with you.”

“Well, Nick, I have perfect confidence in your skill. Go ahead. I hope Helstone will be among our mice, but I can’t think so.”

“Inspector,” said Nick, quietly, “when my trap is sprung, Doc Helstone’s neck will be pinched harder than that of any other mouse in it.”

“Good. Do you want any men?”

“No; Chick and I will do the job.”

“Where is Benton located?”

“At No.—Sixth Avenue.”

“In the rear?”

“Yes.”

“I know the building. It runs back so far that it cuts into the cross-town lots.”

“That’s it. There’s a little square yard just back of it. An alley runs from the yard to the street below, and there are other near entrances.”

“With a sentry guarding each.”

“No doubt of it.”

“And you’ve got to get in without alarming any one of them.”

Nick nodded.

“Well, if it was anybody but you, Nick, I’d say it couldn’t be done. Of course we have sprung traps of that kind, but not when men like Benton were inside. Take care of yourselves, and if there’s any cutting or shooting, let the other fellows get it. The community can spare Benton or any of his crew better than it can spare you two.”

With this piece of good advice, the inspector wished Nick and Chick success, and they left the office.

They walked along in the direction of the Bowery. Suddenly Chick said:

“We are followed.”

He spoke without moving his lips and his voice was like a ventriloquist’s. The whisper seemed to be at Nick’s ear, perfectly distinct. And yet a person on the other side of Chick could not have heard it.

“So I perceive,” responded Nick, in the same tone.

Neither gave the faintest sign of having discovered the pursuer.

He was an ordinary-looking young man whom neither of the detectives remembered.

“He does it pretty well,” said Chick, after an instant’s pause.

“Which of us is he after?” said Nick.

“We must find out.”

They paused on the corner of Houston Street and the Bowery and exchanged a few words.

Then Chick went up the stairs to the elevated station, and Nick walked along the Bowery, northward.

The shadow followed Nick.

The detective was dressed on this occasion in a dark blue sack suit. He wore a soft hat, and carried over his arm a light-brown fall overcoat.

Keeping fifty feet or more behind Nick, the shadow walked up the Bowery. Suddenly Nick turned sharply to the left and entered the swinging door of a saloon.

As it closed behind him, and before he passed the main door, he passed his hand over his soft hat, and it took a wholly different shape.

Then he turned the overcoat wrong side out, and slipped it on. Instead of a handsome brown overcoat on his arm he now had a shabby black one on his back.

This was done in less time than it takes to read about it, and without attracting the notice of the bartender or the two or three people in the saloon.

At the same time Nick’s shoulders seemed to grow narrower by about six inches. His figure changed utterly, lost its erectness, and its athletic appearance.

And his face—— Well, Nick Carter can do anything with his face.

When the shadow entered the saloon Nick was partaking of the free lunch. He seemed to stand in great need of it.

The shadow looked at each of the people in the saloon, and then hurried out by a side door.

The positions were now reversed. Nick followed the shadow.

On the street, the trailer tried desperately hard to get upon the scent again. Nick lounged on a corner and watched him.

The detective knew that for a little time the shadow would stick to the place where he had lost the trail.

When at last the hopelessness of it dawned upon the young man, he struck off at a rapid pace up the Bowery.

Nick kept him in sight. Thus the chase continued up to Eighth Street.

Here the shadow—now shadowed in his turn—walked up to a carriage that was standing beside the curb, and spoke a few words to somebody within.

Then the shadow passed along, and Nick followed for a little distance. As soon, however, as he could shield himself from the observation of the driver on that carriage, he dodged into a dark corner and came out transformed.

Nick wore now the semblance of the young man who had attempted to follow him. The likeness might not have deceived the young man’s mother, but in the evening and upon the street it seemed good enough to answer Nick’s purpose.

Thus disguised, Nick returned hurriedly to the carriage. He was determined to get a sight of the person within.

The coachman made no sign of suspecting anything was wrong. He sat like a statue on the box.

There was a deep shadow on the side of the carriage which Nick approached, for an electric lamp was on the opposite side of the street near the corner.

Nick went straight to the door and looked into the carriage. It was empty.

He put his head in to make sure.

As he withdrew it again, the driver, with a sudden movement, leaned over from the box and struck Nick a tremendous blow on top of the head with a blackjack.

The detective fell like a log, and the coachman, whipping up his horses, drove away rapidly.

CHAPTER VI.
A POINT GAINED.

The man who first came to Nick’s assistance was Chick.

It may as well be said at once that Nick was not badly hurt. His hat was not exactly what it seemed to be.

One would have taken it to be soft felt. In reality, it was a better helmet than those which the knights of the Middle Ages wore.

He had fallen under the blow because he believed that course to be the best policy.

Somebody had planned to kill or at least disable him, and he thought it wise to let that person suppose that he had succeeded.

Chick carried him to a drug store with the aid of a policeman.

An ambulance was summoned; Nick was put into it.

But when the ambulance reached the hospital there was nobody inside it except the surgeon, who winked to the driver and went to his room.

Nick and Chick presently met again.

“Did you see the person who got out of that carriage?” asked Nick.

“I caught a glimpse of him,” Chick replied. “He was a tall man with a light-brown beard. I have no doubt he is the same man whom you saw last night.”

“Then we’ve gained a point. We have worked down to the man who is directing all these operations. Three times he has appeared. This settles it.”

“In other words,” said Chick, “we have seen Doc Helstone.”

“Exactly.”

“He is a slippery rascal.”

“What became of him?”

“He executed one of the finest disappearances that I ever saw. It was just at the moment when the coachman’s club was over your head. I had to keep the coachman covered, and when I took my eyes off him, the other man had vanished.”

“It’s of no consequence,” said Nick. “At present we want him to be at large. We want to take his gang with him in order to secure the evidence we need.”

They walked a short distance in silence. Then Nick said:

“I must go home to receive Ida’s report. At eleven o’clock I will meet you at Twenty-eighth Street and Sixth Avenue. Then we will descend upon the ‘fence.’”

Nick heard the report of his clever young assistant, Ida Jones, and then proceeded at once to his rendezvous with Chick.

It was eleven o’clock exactly when they met. They had assumed the characters of well-known thieves.

Chick was the exact image of “Kid” Leary. Nick was Al Hardy, the notorious second-story thief.

“Pat Powers wanted to take me in,” said Chick, indicating a policeman who stood on the opposite corner. “He says that if I tell any of the boys at the station about it he’ll commit suicide.”

“He doesn’t need to be ashamed of it,” said Nick, surveying the perfect make-up of his friend.

They walked over Twenty-eighth Street to Seventh Avenue, and then downtown until they were nearly opposite the “fence” on Sixth Avenue.

Then Nick took one of the cross streets and Chick the other. Nick was to enter by the alley, and Chick from the front.

At the mouth of the alley Nick encountered a negro whose face was as black as the darkness behind him.

“Heah, you! Whar you goin’?” cried the negro, as Nick tried to pass him.

“Shut up, Pete,” said Nick, in a voice exactly like Hardy’s. “Don’t you know me?”

“That you, Al Hardy? When did you get out?”

“I haven’t been in, you black rascal.”

“Yer oughter be.”

“Look here, Pete, I can’t stand here chinning with you all night. I want to see old man Benton.”

“Yer can’t see him.”

“Why not?”

“He’s got pertic’lar business to transact.”

“Come off, you coon.”

“Well, to tell ye the troof, Mr. Hardy, Mr. Benton ain’t in this evenin’.”

“You can’t give me any such steer as that. I know that he’s in.”

“Go ahead then, if ye know so much,” said the negro. “Ye’ll find I’ve been givin’ it to yer straight. Everything is locked up.”

Nick had known that he could get by the sentinel. Benton could not keep people away by force.

That would make too much noise and attract too much attention.

But Nick knew equally well that it would do him no good to get by unless he was welcome. The negro unquestionably had some means of signaling to Benton.

He was, of course, instructed to pass only those who had the countersign or whose names had been given in advance.

For these Pete was to make a favorable signal, and they would get in all right.

In the case of others he would signal unfavorably and they would find “everything locked up.”

Understanding this perfectly well, Nick kept a watchful eye on the negro while passing him. He saw Pete back against the wall of the alley.

Certainly there was some signaling apparatus there—probably an electric bell.

In an instant Nick had the burly negro by the throat.

“Signal right,” he said, in a voice which showed that he meant it. “Signal right or this goes through your heart.”

Pete could feel a sharp point pressed against his breast. It pricked him, and a few drops of blood began to flow.

He dared not struggle. He was in mortal terror. The grip on his throat was choking him, and the knife was at his heart.

“Fo’ de lub er Heaven, Mr. Hardy,” he gasped, as the pressure on his windpipe relaxed, “don’t cut me an’ I’ll do what you say.”

“Wait a minute, Pete. Hear what I’ve got to say, before you do anything.”

Nick’s hand left Pete’s throat; the dagger point was withdrawn, but before the trembling negro could take advantage of his improved condition, he found himself worse off than before.

He was handcuffed, and a pistol was thrust into his face.

“Now, Pete, look here. There’s a bell behind you.

“Yes; I thought so. Here it is in the space where this brick has been removed.

“If you ring that bell the right way I shall be admitted when I knock at Benton’s door. If you don’t I shall have to break it down.

“I prefer to get in quietly. I’m going to gag you and take you up to the head of the alley. If the door is open, I shall go in. If it isn’t I’ll come back and blow your head off.”

“Who are you?” gasped Pete, for Nick at the last had spoken in his usual voice.

“Don’t bother about that. Ring the bell.”

Nick brought Pete’s fingers in contact with the button, and the signal was made.

“Four times is all right. Very well. Now come with me.”

Seizing the negro by the shoulder, he ran him out into the deserted street, and about a third of the way to Seventh Avenue.

Then he whistled in a peculiar manner. A form appeared out of the darkness.

“Patsy,” said Nick, “bring up the carriage.”

It was brought. Peter, gagged as well as bound, was bundled into it.

“Take him home,” said Nick to the driver. “Now, Patsy, follow me.”

He darted off in the direction of the alley.

“Stand here, as if on guard,” he whispered to Patsy. “When anybody who may by any possibility be one of Helstone’s gang comes along, press this bell four times. Don’t shut anybody out unless you’re perfectly sure we don’t want him.”

Having spoken these words, Nick ran up the alley. He feared that Benton, having heard the favorable signal, would be impatient for his customer.

In the little yard behind the house in which was the “fence,” there was no light whatever.

Nick found two or three steps leading up to a door which, by daylight, seemed to be frail, but was in reality strengthened by iron bands.

On this door he knocked cautiously four times. It was opened, disclosing a perfectly dark hall.

Nick entered. He could not see the person who admitted him, but he supposed that it must be Benton.

When the door had been closed a light was suddenly flashed in his face.

Then a voice said:

“Al Hardy! When did they let you in?”

“Never mind, old man Benton, I’m in the ranks now,” said Nick.

“Well, it’s none of my business. Come this way.”

Nick might have seized the rascal there, and he meditated doing it. But he desired to see all the formalities of the place.

He wished to know how the thieves were received, because it would soon be his turn to receive them.

Moreover, the hall was so dark that he might easily make a mistake in his calculations. If he fell upon Benton and failed to shut off his wind instantly, the outcry would ruin his plans.

Then, too, for all he knew there might be somebody else in the hall. He could see nothing. Half a dozen men might have been standing there without his knowing it.

The flash of light had come so suddenly and been so speedily withdrawn that it had dazzled him without disclosing anything.

Nick decided to bide his time.

“Come this way,” said Benton, and he took Nick by the arm.

A door opened. Nick knew this by the current of air, though he could not see the door, nor did he hear it move upon its hinges.

The hand upon his arm guided him into a perfectly dark room, where he was presently told to sit down. He found a bench behind him, and he sat upon it because there did not seem to be anything else to do.

Ten minutes passed and absolutely nothing happened.

Nick heard nothing of Benton. He could not be sure that the old man was still in the room.

By close listening, however, Nick satisfied himself that he was not alone.

There was a sound of suppressed breathing, the faint noise made by persons who are trying to keep still.

Whether there were two or a dozen men in the room, Nick could not say.

Presently there was a ring at the bell. The faint sound made itself audible, but it was impossible to say from what direction it came.

Nick would have guessed that the bell was under the floor.

It rang four times.

Then came a faint sound which Nick took to be the departure of Benton to let in his visitor.

Presently there was another faint sound. The visitor had been admitted.

How long was this thing going to last?

Was Chick the last arrival?

How could Benton be captured secretly in this dense darkness?

Would it be possible to make a light without stirring up such a tumult as would alarm the whole city?

These were the questions which ran through Nick’s mind.

CHAPTER VII.
IN THE GLOOM.

All this darkness and mystery did not surprise Nick. He knew that Benton was a great man for hocus-pocus.

He had signs and passwords, and surrounded himself with precautions which looked childish.

There was a purpose in all this, however. By keeping a good many silly mysteries in motion he managed very often to cover up the real mystery and direct attention elsewhere.

Nick knew Benton for a desperate man at heart. Was he playing a deep game here?

It was just like him to collect the whole Helstone gang in the dark for no other purpose than to show them what a mysterious character he was. By and by he might bring a lamp, and then the business would proceed in the most ordinary way in the world.

But, on the other hand, he might have a deadly trap concealed in this gloom.

Nick wondered whether it was possible that he had been recognized. If so, he knew that Benton would never let him get out of the place alive, unless he couldn’t help it.

Presently the bell rang again. This time, by listening with the deepest attention, Nick made sure that Benton went to the rear door—the one by which Nick himself had been admitted.

Then Nick was sure that something out of the common course had happened. It would be hard to say just how he knew it. Only his great experience enabled him to interpret the faint sounds which he heard.

The caller, whoever he was, was not ushered into the room in which Nick sat. Of that Nick felt certain.

Benton, however, returned. By straining every nerve in the most rigid attention, Nick ascertained that.

Afterward it seemed to him that Benton had touched some other person in the room and was leading him out.

A second time this occurred, and then a third.

Nick began to be anxious. He made a sign which should have elicited a response from Chick if he had been present, but only silence ensued.

For the fourth time Benton entered the room.

Nick could not see him, of course. The darkness was as profound as ever. But by this time he had learned to recognize the old man’s stealthy tread.

Then dead silence ensued.

Nick listened intently. He seemed to know by instinct that Benton was listening also.

“Something has gone wrong, sure,” said Nick to himself. “I must act quickly or all is lost.”

He stirred his foot upon the floor so as to make a faint noise.

Then, for a second, he listened.

Surely Benton was creeping up toward him.

And another sound now began to be audible. It was the faint noise of impeded breathing.

Nick knew that sound. In the midst of that perfect darkness he recognized the person who was breathing as plainly as if he had seen the man by the light of day.

It was Pete, the negro.

Nick had known Pete for some years. The negro had a slight asthmatic affection, which made his breathing just the least bit more difficult than a healthy man’s.

He also had a peculiar habit of drawing in his breath with a faint rattling sound once in about two minutes.

These noises Nick recognized, and he grasped the whole situation instantly.

Pete had escaped. He had returned and had probably disabled Patsy.

Then he had informed Benton that Nick Carter had got inside the house disguised as Al Hardy.

The wily old man, on receiving this information, had quietly removed the other persons from the room in which Nick was, and had then come in with the negro to take vengeance upon the detective.

There was no time for delay. The two murderers were creeping down upon him.

Again Nick made a slight movement to attract their attention.

He set down his pocket lamp on the bench beside him.

This lamp was arranged to be used as a bull’s-eye or by removing the coverings from the sides it could be made to throw its light about as an ordinary lamp does.

Nick removed the side coverings. At that moment he could hear the two assassins very close to him.

Suddenly he pressed the spring of the lamp, and leaped to one side as agile as a cat.

The flame flashed up in the faces of his assailants.

It revealed the evil countenance of Benton, with his thin, cruel lips, and habitual sneer. It shone upon the brutal face of the negro.

Each of them held a knife in his hand. They were bending forward, and were just ready to strike.

The bright flame dazzled and confused them for an instant.

Then they turned toward the spot to which Nick had sprung.

The sight which met their gaze was not reassuring.

In each hand Nick held a revolver. There was death in the glance of his eye.

Neither Benton nor the negro could summon up the courage to stir.

Every crook in New York—not to go further—knows Nick Carter’s reputation as a pistol shot.

Probably there is not a criminal in the whole city who would dream of making any resistance if he found himself covered by a revolver in Nick’s hands.

It would be suicide and nothing else.

Ellis Benton ground his teeth, but he dared not move.

“Lay those knives down on the floor carefully,” said Nick. “Don’t make any noise or I’ll make a louder one.”

The two villains obeyed, Benton with hatred and chagrin visible in every movement, the negro with the alacrity of perfect submission.

Of Pete, at least, Nick felt sure. The man was an arrant coward, and Nick’s only wonder was that he had been induced to assist in murder.

Doubtless he had intended to leave the real work to Benton.

“Now hold up your hands,” said Nick.

These directions he gave in a low voice, which could not be heard beyond the limits of the apartment.

“Pete,” he continued, “face round.”

The negro obeyed, turning his back to Nick.

“Now walk straight to the wall and put your face against it. If you look round, you’re a dead man.”

“I’ll do it,” whined the negro, whose terror was doubled when his back was turned to the object of his alarm; “don’t you go for to shoot, an’ I won’t make no trouble.”

“Benton, come here,” said Nick.

The old man advanced, grinding his teeth.

Meanwhile Nick put one of the revolvers into his pocket, and drew out a pair of handcuffs.

As Benton held out his hands, Nick, for an instant, removed the pistol’s muzzle from a direct line with the other’s head.

Benton’s eye was quick to see this. Instantly he leaped forward to seize Nick’s hand, at the same time calling upon Pete to help him.

But the first word barely escaped his lips.

The hand in which Nick held the fetters leaped out and struck Benton on the point of his jaw, and he fell like a rag baby.

Pete turned at the sound of his name, but his head spun round again without any delay.

He saw Nick holding Benton’s unconscious form across his arm, as one might hold an old coat.

And Nick’s free hand leveled the revolver straight at Pete’s head.

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’,” protested the negro. “Don’t trouble ’bout pointin’ that gun at me.”

“You behave yourself and you’ll be all right,” said Nick. “Keep those hands up.”

Assuring himself that Pete was thoroughly intimidated, Nick bent over the form of the “receiver” and fettered him securely. He added a gag, which would keep him quiet in case he should regain consciousness before he could be put in a safe place.

It was Pete’s turn next, and he was bound in a way which made a second escape impossible. He, too, was gagged.

“I believe, Mr. Benton,” said Nick, addressing the “fence,” who, however, had not sufficiently recovered to hear him, “that there is a cellar under this apartment.”

With little trouble Nick found a trapdoor which could be raised. He lifted it and discovered a ladder leading down into the darkness.

He lowered Benton down into this place with a piece of rope, and then steadied Pete so that the negro made the descent, although his hands were tied behind him.

Nick followed with the light.

The cellar was a damp and unwholesome dungeon, but it extended a long way in the direction of Sixth Avenue.

This was what Nick had hoped, for it gave him an opportunity to dispose of his two captives at such distance from the rooms which Benton occupied that their cries, muffled by the gags, could not be heard.

A partition divided the cellar, and there was a door in it. Nick made his prisoners secure on the other side of this door, and then he returned to the room in which he had captured them.

Here he speedily, but very carefully, disguised himself as Ellis Benton.

Then, extinguishing his light, he put it into his pocket, and made his way along the hall toward the rear door.

He passed out into the little yard, and thence to the alley where he had left Patsy.

The fate of his young assistant was a black problem in Nick’s mind. He greatly feared that Patsy had been murdered.

Therefore his satisfaction was great when, in the mouth of the alley, he found Patsy leaning against the wall.

Nick disclosed himself.

“They pretty nearly did me up, Nick,” said Patsy. “I guess they left me for dead. But I’m worth half a dozen dead men.”

“How did it happen, my boy?”

“I don’t exactly know. The negro must have crept up along the wall. The first thing I knew he was on top of me, and he got in a chance blow with a sandbag.

“Why it didn’t kill me I can’t understand. It lit fair enough. Is the game up, Nick?”

“I don’t think so. How do you feel?”

“Dizzy; but it will pass away.”

Nick examined Patsy carefully.

“You’ve had a narrow escape, my boy,” he said, “but you don’t seem to be much hurt. Do you feel well enough to go on guard again?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I’ll let you do it, since the case is so desperate, but if your head troubles you too much, just push the bell six times as a signal to me and then drop into a carriage on the avenue and go to see Dr. Allen.”

“Don’t you worry about me, Nick,” replied the boy. “I’m only ashamed to have him get the best of me.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got him safe.”

CHAPTER VIII.
A SEMICIRCLE OF CRIME.

Nick returned to the house. In the dark hall he paused.

Voices could be heard. Men were talking in subdued tones in a room on his left.

The room where he had met with the adventures already narrated was on his right.

A moment’s thought convinced Nick that the voices were those of the men who had been in the room with him, and had been led out by Benton.

He resolved to join them. Therefore he threw open the door on his left and entered a room.

It was not perfectly dark, as the other had been. A small bead of gas flame struggled with the shadows.

In its light Nick saw three men, whom he instantly knew to be crooks. One of them, Reddy Miller, had been suspected of belonging to Helstone’s gang.

Nick, it will be remembered, was disguised as Ellis Benton.

“Come, Ellis,” said Miller, the instant Nick appeared, “we’ve had enough fiddling round. Tell us what’s the object of all this mystery.”

These words delighted Nick’s heart. He saw the lay of the land at once.

Benton had evidently given no alarm to these fellows when Pete had brought the news of Nick’s presence.

He had been confident that he could put the detective out of the way, and he had reasoned that if he did it without letting the thieves know, they would stay, and he could do a good stroke of business with them. On the other hand, if he let them know that a detective had got in, they would clear out at once.

If Benton had seen any signs of a police trap, he would not have tried this game, but he was shrewd enough to infer from the circumstances that Nick was not the forerunner of a squad of police.

All these thoughts passed through Nick’s brain in a flash as Reddy Miller spoke.

Counterfeiting Benton’s voice and manner exactly, Nick replied:

“Mystery? Well, why not? This isn’t the sort of business to be proclaimed from the housetops.”

“Rats!” replied Miller, in a tone of disgust; “you go through all these monkey tricks because you’re a cussed old crank. Now come down to business.”

“But we can’t come down to business yet,” said Nick. “Our friends are not all here.”

“What I want to know,” said Miller, “is whether you’re ready to make the big deal. Can you take all of the stuff off our hands?”

“Don’t be so fast, Reddy,” said one of the other crooks. “Wait till the others get here. The Doc himself is coming.”

“Don’t you believe it,” said Miller. “The Doc is going to lay mighty low for a while. Things are pretty warm for him.”

“Shut up, Reddy,” said the third crook, and they all relapsed into silence.

The bell rang again. Nick had learned to distinguish the alley bell from the other. This time he was summoned to the front of the house.

The person whom he ushered in was Chick.

“I’ve had a fearful time getting in,” said Chick. “Sixth Avenue seems to be plastered with Benton’s lookouts.

“I tried to get by the sentry, but he wanted a password. I said ‘Helstone,’ at a venture, and it didn’t go.

“My game was to pretend that I was too drunk to remember the password. Finally I went around to the alley where I met Patsy, who had learned the password from a crook whom he had let in.

“Of course I might have gone in that way, but I thought it best to pass the other sentry, convince him that I was all right, and thus quiet any suspicion which I might have aroused.”

In reply Nick rapidly sketched his own adventures.

“I’ve got three of them in the room at the rear. I think we’d better secure them now, and then take the others singly, as they drop in.”

Chick signified his readiness.

The two detectives went at once to the rear room, and before the three crooks had time to suspect any danger, they found themselves covered by revolvers in the hands of Nick and Chick.

They were secured without trouble.

It was now a little after midnight. For half an hour the members of Doc Helstone’s gang arrived rapidly.

Each man was secured as he came in.

While Nick answered the bell, Chick stood guard over the captives, revolver in hand.

A strange spectacle was presented in that room.

Eleven criminals, every one a specialist in some line of theft, sat in a semicircle, facing a sort of desk which Benton ordinarily used when he had business on hand.

Nick had found a lot of heavy wooden chairs in one of the rooms, and in these the crooks sat, every one handcuffed and fastened to his chair.

The infernal regions could hardly furnish such a row of scowling faces. The crooks saw themselves trapped, and their rage was boundless.

On the desk and around it was spread out the plunder which they had brought. Its value went up well into the tens of thousands.

A richer haul had not been made in New York in many a day.

It had been arranged that Inspector McLaughlin should come at three o’clock. He wished to see the mice in the trap.

Exactly at that hour he arrived. Chick met him on the outside.

The crooks had stopped coming by that time, and so Benton’s sentries were gathered in and sent to the station.

Inspector McLaughlin smiled when he viewed the semicircle of fettered crooks.

Several of them were men whom he had long desired to have in exactly this position.

“Your mouse trap was a great success, Nick,” said he.

“It has caught a fair lot of vermin.”

“Shall we take them to headquarters?”

“Not yet, inspector. I wish them to remain here.”

The inspector drew Nick into a corner.

“Is Doc Helstone among them?” he asked. “There are two or three of these fellows whom I don’t know. Is he one of them?”

“No; Helstone is not here, but he is coming.”

“Coming?”

“Yes; but before that I have something to do.”

“What?”

“I am going to call on Morton Parks.”

“Right; he should be here to look over this plunder. And more than that, he has a right to see the capture of his wife’s murderer.”

“I am going to him,” said Nick.

A light was burning in the library of the residence on Madison Avenue when Nick rang the door bell.

Parks himself came to the door. He had sent his servants to bed.

“Mr. Parks,” said Nick, “I have something of great importance to say to you—so great that I would have roused you at this hour, but I see that you have not retired.”

“No; I am in no mood to sleep.”

These words were spoken while Parks led the way to the library.

“In the first place,” Nick said, when they were seated in that apartment, “let me ask what you have heard regarding your wife’s condition?”

“I have secured hourly reports,” Parks replied. “There has been no change.”

“You can hardly wish, believing what you do of her, that she should recover. Her fate might be worse than death.”

Parks pressed his hands to his forehead.

“Nevertheless,” Nick continued, “you cannot be indifferent to the arrest of the assassin.”

Parks sprang to his feet.

“Has he been taken?” he cried.

“Not yet; but he will be in custody to-night.”

“Who is he?”

The question was asked in a voice that was like a groan. The man’s eyes blazed.

“I will not answer that question now,” said Nick, “but come with me and in an hour at the furthest I will set you face to face with the cowardly villain who struck that blow.”

CHAPTER IX.
PARKS IN DISGUISE.

The two men left the house immediately.

A carriage was in waiting, and it conveyed them rapidly to the “fence” on Sixth Avenue.

Nick guided Parks through the dark halls, but he did not take him to the room where the crooks sat chafing in their fetters.

Instead, the two went into the room on the other side of the hall. Nick struck a light, and they took chairs.

“I am simply following you,” said Parks. “I do not understand what we have come here for.”

“To meet the assassin,” said Nick; “but before we do that I wish to impose one condition on you.”

“Name it.”

“I wish you to be disguised.”

“For what reason?”

“I do not wish you to appear as Morton Parks.”

“That is only saying the same thing in other words.”

“True; I had not finished. It is important that when you face the assassin you should not do it in your own character.”

“That is hardly more definite. But why should I argue the point? It is immaterial. I am willing to assume a disguise.”

“I will disguise you now. You have heard, perhaps, that I have skill in such matters.”

“Do as you wish.”

It was wonderful to see the change which Nick produced in Parks’ appearance. It was not done so quickly as would have been the case with the detective’s own face, but it was done with amazing skill and care.

At last Nick held up a looking-glass before the other’s gaze.

Looking into it Parks beheld a dark, bearded countenance. Paints, cleverly applied, threw such shadows upon the eyes that though they were really gray they looked black.

The hair was black; the beard was black; it was indeed a swarthy face.

“Do you think that anybody would recognize you?” asked Nick.

“Never,” said Parks, and there was something of relief in his tone.

Nick replaced the mirror and resumed his seat.

“We were speaking, some minutes ago,” he said, “of the character of your wife, as these tragic events have disclosed it.”

“Is it necessary to speak further on that subject?”

“It is, as I believe.”

“You must be aware that it is very painful to me.”

“It should not be.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Parks, your wife is a pure and innocent woman, the victim of brutal wretches.”

Parks sprang to his feet.

“Mr. Carter,” he cried, “in Heaven’s name, present the proof quickly, if you have any.”

“You believe that your wife stole her own jewels in order to pawn or sell them.”

Parks bowed in assent.

“She must have had a motive,” said Nick.

“I have already told you that she gambled in stocks.”

“With what brokers did she deal?”

“I cannot tell.”

“How do you know that she gambled in stocks?”

“She confessed to me when she had wasted her own fortune. She promised to reform.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Over a year.”

“And she did not reform?”

“No; she continued to speculate.”

“How do you know?”

“The theft of the jewels proves it.”

“That was on August 3d?”

“Yes.”

“She obtained money as well as jewels?”

“Yes.”

“A considerable sum?”

“Twenty-four hundred dollars. I happened to have an unusual amount of money in the house that night.”

“If she stole that money for speculation, it is reasonable to suppose that she used it immediately for that purpose, is it not?”

“I suppose so.”

“Well, Mr. Parks, I have traced your wife’s movements for almost every day of last August.”

“You have?”

“Yes; by means of one of my assistants, a very clever and well-taught young lady.”

“What have you learned?”

“That she did not speculate.”

“How can you be sure of that? A person does not have to go to Wall Street in order to dabble in stocks.”

“I know it; but a person whose fate is on the turn of that dreadful game does not spend her time as your wife did.”

“How?”

“In the noblest works of charity; in the homes of the poor on the East Side. It was there that she spent her days, not hanging over a stock ticker in some resort of fashionable women gamblers.”

“This seems incredible.”

“It is true. I know of one family which she visited every week day between August 3d and August 21st. I know several others where she was a regular visitor.”

“You amaze me.”

“She spent a great deal of money in these charities, too. That does not look like the work of a ruined gambler.”

“But how do you account for her association with thieves?”

“I will tell you. Let us suppose a case. You mentioned your nephew.

“Let us suppose that your wife was deeply attached to him. Let us say that after long watching, and years, perhaps, of dark suspicion, she discovered that he was a thief.

“Unwilling to believe any other evidence than that of her own eyes, she follows him. She sees him enter a den of thieves. She learns that he is their leader.”

“Is my nephew, then, the thief?” cried Parks.

“Wait. This is all supposition.

“Let us say that she enters this den of thieves. She has found their private way.

“They are thunderstruck when she appears, though only the leader knows her. She walks up to a table on which lies the plunder which they are dividing.

“She seizes some of it in her hands. She is mad with the horror of the scene, perceiving one she loves in such a place.

“They do not dare to kill her, for they have no means of disposing of the body. She does not see that she is in great danger.

“She threatens them. She urges upon this man—your nephew, let us say—to make restitution and reform.

“It is what a woman might do though a man would smile at it. He curses her. She seizes some of the jewels and rushes out saying that she will expose everything.

“The rank and file of the thieves’ gang would murder her rather than permit her to leave the room.

“But the leader is more wily. He knows that she must die, but not there.

“He follows her; stabs her in the street, and escapes.”

“In the name of God, did my nephew do this?”

“The villain who did this is called Helstone. He is the leader of a gang of thieves. His real name has been unknown to the police.”

“And my nephew——”

“Wait. That was only a supposition. Let us see if there is not somebody who was bound to her by a closer tie.”

“What!”

“Had she no near relatives?”

“None.”

“She had a husband.”

“Liar! Do you dare to say——”

“That you, Morton Parks, are Helstone. It was not your nephew, it was you she followed. Yes; I say it, and I shall ask you to test the truth of it.”

“How? I am ready, and I think I know the test.”

“In this house, at this moment, I hold the most of Helstone’s gang of thieves. Dare you face them?”

“Certainly.”

“You are disguised, it is true. I have purposely changed your appearance as much as possible. But it will not serve.”

“I will face them instantly.”

“Then come.”

Nick walked to the door, and Parks was at his side.

They passed into a room which opened into that in which sat the fettered thieves.

There they found Chick.

“Keep your eye on this man,” said Nick, but in a tone so low that it could not be heard in the other room.

“You need not be afraid that I shall run away,” muttered Parks in reply.

Nick entered the large room where Inspector McLaughlin sat with a revolver in each hand, facing the semicircle of crooks.

“Now, gentlemen,” said Nick, briskly, “you probably give me a great deal of credit for having trapped you so neatly.”

A volley of oaths was the reply.

“I am too modest, however,” he continued, “to take glory which is not my due.”

Again he paused, and this time the crooks appeared to take more serious interest in what he was saying.

“Another man has really done the work,” Nick went on. “Without him you would never be in the predicament in which you now find yourselves, with Sing Sing prison open before you.”

“We’ve been sold out,” growled Miller. “Did Benton do it?”

“I am happy to clear Mr. Benton of that imputation,” said Nick. “He did not do it.”

“Somebody did,” yelled Miller, and again the oaths broke forth.

Evidently the gang had no very cordial feeling toward its betrayer.

“Bring in Mr. Jones,” called Nick to Chick.

Parks and Chick entered on the instant. Nick could not help admiring the man’s nerve.

His one chance in the world was that the gang would not recognize him.

And he had seen his disguise—the most utterly impenetrable which ever shrouded the face of any human being.

He remembered the swarthy skin, the flashing black eyes, the beard of the color of a raven’s wing.

Yet when he appeared a cry broke from every crook’s throat in that criminal assembly.

“Helstone! Helstone!” they shouted.

Miller and one other actually burst their bonds in the frenzy of their wrath against the man whom they believed had betrayed them.

And Morton Parks stood there utterly at a loss for a defense. The recognition was too sudden and unanimous.

How had it happened? How could they have seen through that wonderful mask?

“Mr. Parks,” said Nick, stepping forward, “I promised that within the hour I would bring you face to face with the coward and villain who stabbed your wife.

“I will keep my word. Behold Doc Helstone!”

With a sudden movement Nick raised a mirror which he had held concealed behind him and thrust it before Parks’ face.

Parks leaped back as if a thunderbolt had struck him.

In that mirror he saw his face wearing the exact disguise which he had led his gang of thieves to believe was the real countenance of Doc Helstone.

There was the light-brown beard parted in the middle, there were the gray eyes and light eyebrows, and rather pale skin.

“Surprised, are you?” said Nick. “Why, it was the simplest thing in the world.

“When I made your face up half an hour ago I used a false beard colored with a substance which is black when it is moist, but light-brown when it is dry.

“Your eyebrows were colored with the same substance. It dries very quickly. Five minutes after I showed you the dark face in the glass you had begun to look like Doc Helstone. Every black line was fading into brown.

“The tint which I used on your skin acts the same way. It turns from a tan color to a pale flesh tint by simply being exposed to the air.

“It was very interesting to watch your face change into the character you so much wished to avoid. Of course you couldn’t see it yourself. It was changing almost all the time that we were talking.

“When you entered this room you fancied that you were disguised. In reality, your face was exactly as you now see it—the face of the man whom I saw walking away from the woman who had been stabbed.”

CHAPTER X.
“SPEAKING OF SELLS.”

“You have taken him on all sides at once,” exclaimed the inspector.

“The trap has been sprung and Helstone is in it. Come, my man, what have you to say?”

These last words were addressed to Parks.

“I have this to say,” said he, boldly, “that this identification is meaningless. The detective has painted my face to represent a well-known criminal, and I am mistaken for him, that’s all.”

“Don’t be foolish, Doc,” said Miller. “We all know you. Now tell us why you sold us.”

“He didn’t sell you,” said the inspector. “This gentleman sold you”—pointing to Nick—“but it was a different kind of sell.

“And, speaking of sells. I have cells for every one of you. Shall we march them away, Nick?”

“As you please. Ah! Chick, what is that?

“A message from the hospital.”

“Let me see it.”

Nick tore the envelope, glanced at the contents, and then said:

“She is fully conscious. She knows everything.”

Morton Parks’ face became ashen. Then for an instant it cleared. If his wife was conscious he was not yet a murderer, at least he could save his life out of the ruin of his fortunes.

“Do you still deny your guilt?” Nick said, addressing Parks.

“It is fate,” the man muttered. “I have never for an instant expected to escape it.”

Doc Helstone and his friends were taken to police headquarters.

Reeves, the witness, was released.

“How did you get your clew to this riddle?” asked the inspector of Nick.

“I found it in the character of Mrs. Parks,” said Nick. “She could not be a thief or willingly the associate of thieves. She was not the sort of woman who leads a double life.

“Yet she was proved to have been in a resort of thieves. What motive could have carried her there?

“I answer, only love, or what was left of it after respect had been destroyed—the love of some man.

“What man? To know her character was to answer that question. It must be her husband.”

“But, how did you learn her character so quickly?”

“For that I must thank my assistant, Ida Jones. I sent her on that part of the case as soon as the identity of the woman was known. She reported to me from time to time. It was easy enough to trace her, she had so many friends among the poor. Ida had only to get a tip from Park’s coachman and the thing was done.”

“How did you persuade him to walk into your trap?”

“I told him I would show him the murderer of his wife. He could not refuse to come.

“Once here, I asked him if he dared to meet the Helstone gang. Could he say that he did not dare? That would have been confession.

“The disguise was merely a trick to make the recognition more sure.”

“But how about the diamonds, Nick?”

“Why, I take it that when Mrs. Parks tracked her husband to the resort of his gang and entered it after him there was wild confusion.

“Very little was said that anybody understood or remembered. There was a heap of plunder on the table for the gang was ready to move.

“Mrs. Parks snatched these diamonds as a corroboration of the story she intended to tell to the police. So tremendous was the excitement that nobody noticed her action.

“When Parks followed her out and murdered her, he dared not remove the diamonds for fear somebody would see him. The horror that comes on all murderers came on him.”

“But why did Parks tell that false story about a robbery at his house?”

“In order to get hold of the gems before the rightful owner could identify them and in order to make the police believe that Mrs. Parks was a thief and a companion of thieves. It gave him a chance to tell this lie about stock gambling.”

Mrs. Parks recovered, but she declined to appear against her husband.

“I never wish to look on his face again,” she said. “He is a bad man and deserves punishment, but you must deal with him on a charge of robbery, not on a charge of assault.”

And from this position she refused to be moved.

But Nick did not press the matter.

As the leader of a gang of burglars, Parks was put on trial and sentenced to ten years.

Nick thought he had seen the last of him when he saw him go on board the train in charge of Special Detective Jones, who was to convey the criminal to Sing Sing.

But Parks was not a man to take his punishment without an effort to escape it.

He had prepared for this trip to Sing Sing.

Docilely he took his seat alongside the plain-clothes man in the smoking car, which was then empty.

Jones took out a paper and settled himself back for the long ride; glancing once or twice at the placid face of the man beside him.

Truth to tell, he had an immense respect for this criminal leader, and he appreciated the responsibility of the task that had devolved upon him in lieu of the deputy sheriff who usually escorted prisoners to Sing Sing.

The car began to fill, but no one glanced at the detective and his prisoner, for Jones was in plain clothes, and his newspaper covered the handcuffs that linked Parks’ right hand with the left hand of the detective.

Parks ventured a word or two and presently led Detective Jones into a conversation. He was a highly educated man, and he had the gift of telling a story in an interesting fashion.

“By the way,” he said; “have you any objection to my smoking?”

“No; go ahead,” said Jones, pleasantly.

With his unfettered left hand Parks drew from his pocket a cigar case, fumbled with it a minute or two, and soon had a long, black weed between his teeth.

“Can I offer you a smoke?” he asked, hesitatingly.

The cigar case stopped on its way to his pocket, while he waited for the detective’s answer.

“Thanks. Don’t mind if I do.”

“Help yourself.”

There was a peculiar gleam in his eyes as the detective struck a match and lit up.

Parks talked on pleasantly for a little while, but soon relapsed into silence as the train rushed on, carrying him nearer and nearer to Sing Sing.

The car was uncomfortably warm. There was a drowsiness about the air that made it difficult to keep the eyes open.

At any rate, that was how Detective Jones felt.

He tried to fasten his attention on a particularly thrilling newspaper story, but the letters danced before his eyes; his eyes closed; he was asleep.

Parks emitted a grunt that might mean anything, then stretching out his legs and resting his head on the back of the seat, he followed his escort’s example and closed his eyes.

The train sped on. Passengers came and went, but Detective Jones still slept.

Mr. Parks seemed to be asleep, too, but there was no one more awake than he at that moment.

“The drugged cigar has done its work.”

This was the thought that surged in his brain. He mentally repeated the phrase over and over again, then cautiously he opened his eyes.

Just across the aisle were two Italian workmen, too much engrossed in reciting their individual woes to notice anything else.

Over his shoulder he got a glimpse of a commercial man, studying his notebook. There was no danger to be apprehended from this quarter.

Under cover of the newspaper he slid his left hand over to the detective’s waistcoat.

It was a moment of horrible anxiety as his fingers touched a key.

But Detective Jones was still dead to the world.

Next moment the key snapped in the lock and Parks was free.

A swift glance around assured him that his actions had not been observed.

Emboldened by his success, he rifled the pockets of the sleeping detective.

“I’ll need a few extra dollars,” he told himself, though he despised this petty theft.

At the next stop he left his seat, and, mingling with the other travelers, passed out.

CHAPTER XI.
THE FUGITIVE.

“Now where am I to go?”

Morton Parks asked himself this question as he sat down on a fallen tree to rest.

He had rubbed the dust of the road on his face and had considerably altered his whole appearance by tearing rents in his clothing and pulling the crown out of his hat.

He looked like a tramp, and it was in this character he hoped to escape the vigilance of the police who were now scouring the country for him.

“I would like to get back to New York,” he mused, “and yet I daren’t show up as Doc Helstone, and nobody knows Morton Parks.

“Stop! I had forgotten Gilmore and Geary, the high-power burglars. They know me in both characters. But they have left New York by this time. When I saw them last they were making arrangements for a big bank robbery in Chicago, and I remember they said they were going to bore into the vault with an electric drill.

“I laughed at the scheme, but I hadn’t any intention of joining them then. Why shouldn’t I get to Chicago and give Gilmore and Geary a hand? Yes, by jingo, that’s my plan.

“I’ll have to beg or steal my way there, but I ought to know how to do that.”

* * * * * * *

“Talk about nerve!”

“What is it now, Mr. Smith?”

Following a Chance Clew; Or, Nick Carter's Lucky Find

Following a Chance Clew

FOLLOWING A CHANCE CLEW.

CHAPTER I.ON A SEPTEMBER NIGHT.

CHAPTER II.A NOVEL TIMEKEEPER.

CHAPTER III.THE ONLY WITNESS.

CHAPTER IV.THE DISPLACED BANDAGE.

CHAPTER V.BENTON, THE ENGLISHMAN.

CHAPTER VI.A POINT GAINED.

CHAPTER VII.IN THE GLOOM.

CHAPTER VIII.A SEMICIRCLE OF CRIME.

CHAPTER IX.PARKS IN DISGUISE.

CHAPTER X.“SPEAKING OF SELLS.”

CHAPTER XI.THE FUGITIVE.

CHAPTER I.
ON A SEPTEMBER NIGHT.

CHAPTER II.
A NOVEL TIMEKEEPER.

CHAPTER III.
THE ONLY WITNESS.

CHAPTER IV.
THE DISPLACED BANDAGE.

CHAPTER V.
BENTON, THE ENGLISHMAN.

CHAPTER VI.
A POINT GAINED.

CHAPTER VII.
IN THE GLOOM.

CHAPTER VIII.
A SEMICIRCLE OF CRIME.

CHAPTER IX.
PARKS IN DISGUISE.

CHAPTER X.
“SPEAKING OF SELLS.”

CHAPTER XI.
THE FUGITIVE.