Nick Carter Detective Library, No. 1 - Nicholas Carter (the best electronic book reader txt) 📗

or not, if I ever have another opportunity such as I once had, he shall die. I will not wait to make terms with him.”

“How do you know that he is onto this place?” asked Morgan.

“I do not know it, but I fear it. If he is, we will all be captured like so many rats in a trap.”

“Sure!”

“At all events it is safer to leave.”

“This is a hard place to get to.”

“Yes, and it would be an easy matter to shadow any of us for the greater part of the distance. The house in Forty-seventh street is the safest place for us now.”

Nick became more interested.

“Isn’t that house watched?”

“Bah, no.”

“I should think it would be.”

“They gave up looking for the murderer long ago, and the house is as deserted as the grave.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Fancy a detective smart enough to run that crime down,” he said.

Then both men laughed.

“I think its funnier to fancy him getting his handcuffs on to the murderer.”

The thought evidently struck them as very funny, for they laughed uproariously.

“I’d like to see him try it,” said Morgan when his mirth had subsided, “particularly that fellow Nick Carter.”

“Yes, I think we’d be well rid of him. His fists and his strength would not count for so much-I say’, where do you suppose Tony was to-night?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps Carter downed him and took him in.”

“Cobra and all?”

“That would make it difficult. Still, that fellow can do anything.”

“No, cap, there’s one thing he can’t do.”

“What’s that?”

“Capture the murderer of Eugenie La Verde.”

“He may.”

“Why, I thought you settled his hash.”

“No, Tony didn’t want me to, and I let him have his way.”

“He’s a queer fish.”

“Rather. He takes food there every week!”

“The devil! Feeding the murderer of his own sister!”

“Exactly!”

“Say, cap!”

“What?”

“I think you’ll have to count me out on living in that house.”

“Nonsense!”

“I mean it. I’ve no relish for the place, since we would not be alone.”

The captain laughed.

“You are afraid of Eugenie’s slayer, eh?”

“Frankly, I am.”

“Well, I don’t know that I blame you, Morgan. Yet there is no danger.”

To say that Nick was interested in the conversation that he had heard would be a feeble expression of his sensations.

He had learned many surprising things almost in one breath.

First, neither Tony, nor Morgan, nor Sindahr, was the murderer of Eugenie La Verde, although they all seemed to know who was.

Second, the murderer was in hiding in the very house where the crime had been committed.

Third, Tony was Eugenie La Verde’s brother, and he was not only protecting the murderer of his sister, but carrying food to him from time to time.

Nick realized that he had not yet seen the real murderer, although he had once stood within a few feet of him in the dark, when he crossed the threshold of Eugenie La Verde’s room and heard the rustle made by someone escaping from the place.

“If he is as dangerous as Morgan’s fear of him would imply, why in the world didn’t he try to choke me just as he did Eugenie?” muttered the detective.

The captain abruptly changed the subject.

He looked at his watch.

“Come,” he said, “it is nearly midnight, and we must go.”

The negress left the room to obey an order from the captain, and so left the three villains alone together.

“Morgan,” said the captain, “you had better go first and Sindahr and I will follow with the other horse. Drive right on to the ferry boat and thence to the house in Forty-seventh street. Go slowly after you get to New York, so that Sindahr and I can get to the house first.”

“Sindahr not going,” said the Arabian, calmly.

“What!” cried the captain.

“Sindahr will not go there.”

“You will have to, my friend.”

“Sindahr never enter that house while he is alive.”

“So you refuse to obey me?”

“Sindahr has spoken.”

“Curse you! take that.”

Like a flash the captain drew a revolver and discharged it almost in the Arabian’s face.

The man sank back dead without a single groan.

“Shove him under the table; I was tired of him, anyhow,” said the captain, coolly, replacing his revolver in his pocket, “and between you and me, Morgan, I am getting tired of Tony also.”

“Let him kill the detective and then we can give him away. It will save the trouble of killing him,” said Morgan.

“So that we get rid of him, I don’t care how it’s done.”

“What shall we do with this body?”

“Let it lie there under the table and rot. We leave this house to-night, forever.”

“Now, a word about other matters before Sal returns. Is everything ready for our scheme?”

“Everything.”

“When do we spring it?”

“This is Wednesday. The time is fixed for Friday at midnight.”

“And we get–”

“One hundred thousand.”

“Good! One more question.”

“Well?”

“Why need we share that with John and Tony?”

“Because John and Tony are alive.”

“Exactly; but if they were dead?”

“I suppose it would be all ours.”

“Would that please you, Phil?”

“I won’t ask any questions if they don’t show up for their share.”

“Good! here comes Sal.”

The next moment Sal entered the room.

Morgan presently, at a sign from the captain, rose, and left the house.

“Don’t go until I come out,” said the captain, and then he was alone with the negress.

“Well, Sal,” he said, “we won’t require your services any longer, and I’ll pay you now.”

“Yes, sah.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Twenty-fo’ dollars, sah.”

“No more? Why, that is cheap. Come here and get it.”

The negress went around the table toward the captain unsuspiciously. Even Nick had no idea what was coming.

“Here is your pay!” exclaimed the villain, when Sal was close enough, and at the same instant he plunged a knife into her heart.

She uttered one loud gasp, and sank back lifeless.

Captain Philip had committed two deliberate murders in one night.

CHAPTER XII.

BRINGING THREADS TOGETHER.

It would have been an easy matter for Nick to have captured the two men then and there, but from his standpoint it was not good judgment to do so.

Eugenie La Verde’s murderer was still unknown, and these men would be very valuable, at large, in helping him to solve the mystery.

They were going directly to the house in Forty-seventh street, and he could arrest them there at any time, when he had used them all he cared to.

As soon as the negress expired, the captain walked calmly from the room, leaving the corpses of his two victims there without an atom of remorse.

Nick followed, not by leaving the house the way he had entered it, but by going directly in the path of Captain Philip.

Morgan had the horse and buggy nearly ready, and his companion helped him to finish the task.

“Climb in,” said the captain.

“What are you going to do with the other horse since we don’t need him?”

“Leave him. He is worthless, anyway.”

“But he will starve.”

“Let him.”

“At least set him loose.”

“Bah! Chicken! Climb in, I tell you. I have no time for trifles.”

Morgan obeyed, and Nick shuddered at the wanton cruelty of the two men.

Nevertheless they had unwittingly done him a service, for he was now provided with a means of returning to the city without walking.

He had no thought of following them, for he knew where to find them when he wanted them.

In the meantime he had something else to do.

After waiting long enough to give them a good start, he brought the other horse out of the stable.

There was an old harness in the barn, which he adjusted after some trouble.

In his pocket was the missing nut for the open buggy, and he was soon bowling along the road at a rapid pace.

He did not stop at Weehawken, but continued on to Hoboken.

There he gave the horse in charge of a liveryman with instructions to keep it until called for, and hurried to New York.

He went straight to the house of Inspector Byrnes.

“Inspector,” he said, when the chief had admitted him, “there were two murders committed to-night by the men I have been pursuing. They are also the ones who know all about the killing of Eugenie La Verde! The bodies of their victims are now lying where they left them in a house not far from the Palisades.”

“You’re a marvel, Nick. Tell me where the house is and I’ll wire the Jersey police.”

Nick did so, but added:

“Don’t make the case too hot till I say the word. Tell Chief Murphy, in Jersey, that you know who the murderer is, and that you will hand him over before the week is out. In the meantime I don’t want to scare my man.”

“Good.”

“Two more things.”

“Well?”

“Will you go with me in person to arrest the murderer of Eugenie La Verde?”

“I will; when?”

“Tomorrow night. Come to my house at eight.”

“I’ll be there. Now the other thing.”

“An order from you to let me see the prisoner I took to headquarters. I want to talk with him.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

The order was quickly filled out, and Nick lost no time in reaching headquarters in Mulberry street.

He was shown at once to Tony’s cell.

“Do you know me, Tony?” he asked.

“No. I don’t know niggers.”

“Don’t, eh? Well, I know you, and I want to ask you some questions.”

“Ask ‘em.”

“Why do you feed your sister’s murderer?”

“To keep him alive.”

“I should think you would rather kill him.”

“Bah! Why? I would rather strangle the man who killed my pet cobra.”

“You would, eh? What would you do if I brought you face to face with that man?”

“Anything you ask.”

“Let me see you feed the murderer of your sister, Eugenie and I will do it.”

“How do you know she was my sister?”

“Never mind. I do know it.”

“He must be fed soon, or he will starve, or else leave the house.”

“Will to-morrow night do?”

“Yes, but he will be cross.”

“Are you afraid of him?”

“I? No. He dare not hurt me.”

“Very well. Tomorrow night I will take you there, and I promise you that you shall be brought face to face with the man who shot your cobra.”

“With my hands free?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you?”

“Does that matter, if I keep my word?”

“No.”

“Good-by then till to-morrow night.”

Promptly at eight o’clock on the following night Inspector Byrnes was at the house of Nick Carter.

In a few words Nick related the entire story of his adventures from first to last.

Then, while the chief waited, Nick hurried to headquarters and got Tony.

The strangler was kept securely handcuffed on the street, but Nick, who had again assumed the guise of the negro, assured him that he would be set free when once the house in Forty-seventh street was reached.

When the house was reached, Nick, much to Tony’s astonishment, entered by the secret passageway under the steps.

He had asked Tony what food he should provide for the murderer, and the strangler had assured him that he had some concealed in the house.

So they entered.

Leaving the others in the, cellar, Nick went silently up stairs and found that the captain was there alone. He was sitting calmly in the back parlor, reading a paper, as unconcerned as though he owned the house.

Nick made a slight noise to attract his attention, and the captain looked up quickly.

Then, pistol in hand, he rose and went toward the hallway, where Nick was waiting