Chapter XX: An Heiress in Trouble

“And yet you have some doubts, Miss Templin, whether it really is your father’s body which lies in that vault back there?” commented Nick Carter, as the young lady indicated that her story was told.

“Yes.”

“And that Mr. Lonsdale, your guardian and affianced husband, has in some way deceived you?”

“Mr. Lonsdale was my guardian. I am now of age.”

“But you have not answered my question.”

“Well, I had rather believe that if I have been deceived about my father’s death, he has been deceived also.”

“Why not wait, then, till he arrives in New York before making this investigation?”

“No. I greatly desire that it be made before he arrives.”

“And if you find that the man you saw last week is not your father, you do not want Mr. Lonsdale to know that the investigation was made?”

“I should prefer it so.”

“She knows more than she is willing to tell me,” thought Nick.

“Where did you see the man you believed to be your father?” he asked.

“At the office of the Scotia Life Insurance Company, in this city.”

“When?”

“Wednesday of last week.”

“And this is Thursday. That was eight days ago?”

“Yes.”

“Why so much delay in beginning your search for the man?”

“It was hard for me to make up my mind to stamp my doubts of the honor of the man I love with the brand of investigation. It was only when I realized that he was on his way to claim my hand in marriage that I decided to have that doubt removed when he stood before me again.”

“Did you speak to this man whom you thought was your father?”

“No. He got away before the opportunity offered, or rather before I recovered from the shock of my surprise. When I saw him he was some distance away, and just about to go out upon the street. By the time I had turned back to follow him, he had disappeared among the crowd outside.”

“You made no attempt to find out who he was?”

“No. How could I?”

“What was he doing when you saw him? Was anyone with him?”

“He was alone, and held something in his hand which had the appearance of a note, a check or a receipt. He was looking at this paper the moment I saw him.”

“You went to the Scotia’s office on business?”

“I went there under Mr. Lonsdale’s instructions to get a remittance which he telegraphed to me from San Francisco,” explained Miss Templin.

“He expected to meet me here in New York when I landed, but was detained a week in San Francisco. He therefore telegraphed, asking me to remain till he could come on. At the same time he sent me to his friend, the president of the Scotia Life Insurance Company, for what money I needed. I was just entering the office when I saw that man leaving.”

“Did you mention the matter to your friend, the president of the Scotia?”

“No. I was not well enough acquainted with him to speak on a subject so delicate. I called at the office yesterday, but he was not in--would not be in till to-day.”

“Then we might find him there now?”

“I suppose so.”

“Can you accompany me to his office?”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“Certainly.”

“Then let us go at once.”

“What for?”

“To take up the trail of your man of mystery.”

“I scarcely see----”

“Will you leave that to me, Miss Templin?”

“Why, certainly.”

“Then, if you are ready, we will start at once.”

On the way to the office of the Scotia, Nick continued his inquisition:

“Your father was a rich man, Miss Templin, was he not?”

“Yes, sir; very.”

“You are his heiress?”

“I am, so far as I know, the only blood relative he has living.”

“Who is this Lawrence Lonsdale, the man you are going to marry?”

“A lawyer, and papa’s most trusted friend and agent.”

“How did he become your guardian?”

“By my father’s will, under which he was also made executor of the estate.”

“You were lovers before you went to Europe?”

“Yes. Mr. Lonsdale and I have been lovers since I was fifteen years old.”

“Is there any way in which Mr. Lonsdale could benefit by deceiving you about your father’s fate?”

“None that I can imagine.”

“He is anxious to make you his wife?”

“Oh, yes. He wanted to marry me before I went to Europe.”

“Ah! You refused?”

“Yes. I told him I would not marry while my father was lying in that half-dead state. After papa died, he wanted to come to Europe and marry me, but I was determined to finish my studies first.”

“You ought to easily prove your father’s death without Mr. Lonsdale’s testimony, Miss Templin.”

“Why, how? He is the only witness on that point in America.”

“This Dr. Greene?”

“He, as well as the nurses and attendant in charge of my father, went to Australia or New Zealand soon after Mr. Templin’s death.”

“Ah!”

It was only a word of two letters, but it caused the young woman to look at Nick sharply.

The detective pretended not to notice that searching look, but he was confident his little aspirate would set Miss Templin’s mind to work on a brand-new lead.

They found the president of the Scotia Life Insurance Company in his office, and Miss Templin introduced herself. She met with a warm welcome from the friend of her affianced husband.

Then she introduced Nick Carter.

“What! Not the celebrated detective!” exclaimed the insurance president. “How fortunate! I was upon the point of going to your house to consult you on a matter of considerable concern to not only our company, but to four or five other companies in this city, who have been hit equally hard.”

“Hit!” exclaimed Nick.

“Why, yes. A man who insured with us two years ago has died. There are some circumstances about the case which have aroused our suspicions that everything is not exactly straight. Before we pay the money we want the case thoroughly investigated, and we have decided you are the man to do it.”

“How much is involved?”

“Half a million. He was insured for one hundred thousand dollars in each of five companies. If you can show up fraud in the case, it will pay you well.”

“What was the man’s name?”

“Miles Mackenzie.”

“Where does he live?”

“At a town in eastern Pennsylvania named Elmwood.”

“Well, as soon as I finish Miss Templin’s business, I’ll be glad to look into this affair for you, if it can wait a few days.”

“Oh, yes, a week, if necessary. The money will not be paid till you get time to look up the Mackenzie affair. So you have a mystery to clear up, too, eh, Miss Templin?”

“Yes; and we’ve come to you to help us out.”

“I help you out? Why, how can I? What is it?”

Miss Templin explained as briefly as she could what had happened when she called the week previous.

“And you want to trace this man if you can from our office?” asked the president of Nick.

“Yes,” replied the detective.

“But how?”

“He was here on business, I suppose?”

“That seems a reasonable deduction.”

“For what purpose do men usually call?”

“To pay premiums.”

“Then let us make inquiries of your cashier first.”

“Had your man any prominent appearance by which he would be likely to impress the cashier’s memory?”

“I think so.”

“Then I’ll send for him.”

The president touched a button and summoned a messenger.

“Tell Mr. Grandin I wish to see him, and ask him to bring his accounts along for Wednesday of last week.”

The cashier shortly appeared, with an account book under his arm.

“Mr. Grandin, this gentleman”--indicating Nick Carter--“wants to make some inquiries, and I wish you would answer him to the best of your ability.”

“I shall be pleased if I can accommodate you, sir,” said the cashier, bowing to the detective.

“Well, then, Mr. Grandin, a gentleman was seen to leave this office on the day mentioned and our belief is that he was here for the purpose of paying a premium, because he had a piece of paper in his hand when he went out which looked like one of the company’s receipts.”

“And you want to learn who he was--what his name is?”

“That’s it.”

“Can you describe him?”

“Miss Templin can,” said Nick, looking at the young lady. Whereupon the latter said:

“The man was perhaps sixty years old, but looked older on account of very white hair and long white whiskers, white eyebrows and a very red face. He----”

“Wait a moment,” exclaimed the cashier, interrupting Miss Templin. “There is no need of your going any further.”

“Then you know him?” asked Nick.

“Yes. He was here on that day, as my books will show.”

“Well, what is his name?”

“His name was Miles Mackenzie.”

“What!” shouted the president, springing up from his chair. “The man who----”

“The man who died yesterday at Elmwood, in Pennsylvania, who was so heavily insured,” said the cashier.