Chapter XXVII: The Padded Secret Prison

Abbott and Nick Carter remained locked up together in earnest conversation nearly all that night. A train left Elmwood for New York at a few minutes after five o’clock in the morning, and it carried away the famous detective on his return to the city.

He went at once to his own house, where he was fortunate in finding his two assistants, Chick and Patsy.

His first move, after having dispatched a hearty breakfast, was to take Chick up to his “den” and remove his disguise as Wylie Ketchum, the lawyer. Then he proceeded to assist Chick in assuming the same character, until another Wylie Ketchum stood forth.

Nick looked critically at Chick thus disguised, and then remarked:

“You’ll do. Mrs. Mackenzie saw me only by lamplight, and through her crape veil, and you are so nearly like I was, that the difference is not discernible to an unpracticed eye.”

“I guess there’ll be no trouble in deceiving her, Nick. The man never saw you?”

“No. Now, remember you are to be at the Scotia Insurance Company’s office at two o’clock prompt.

“Patsy will be on hand to shadow them when they leave the office, and never lose sight of the couple till I return, to-morrow morning.”

About noon Nick went to the Scotia office, and received the following telegram, which had just arrived:

“ELMWOOD, PA., July 9, 18--.

“TO WYLIE KETCHUM, care Scotia Life Insurance Company, New York
City: Impossible for me to accompany Mr. and Mrs. Mackenzie to-day.
Have sent certificates of cause of death and identification of
widow. If necessary, I can come down to-morrow. They leave at ten
o’clock.

ABBOTT.”

“It’s all right,” said Nick, as he handed the telegram to the president. “My assistant will represent me here as Mr. Ketchum, and I’ll be off to Elmwood again.”

Fifteen minutes after Mrs. Mackenzie and her pretended stepson had reached New York, Nick, in the new disguise of a farmer, was once more on his way to Elmwood, carrying with him a huge carpetbag.

His train left directly after the Elmwood express arrived, and he had the satisfaction of seeing his party disembark, and start toward the ferry before he stumbled up the steps into the smoking car of his train.

When he was once more in the presence of Dr. Abbott it was necessary to introduce himself anew.

But when Abbott realized that in the old farmer who stood before him he saw the great New York detective, he was not slow in posting Nick on the way the case lay at Elmwood.

“When I pleaded my duty to a sudden very dangerous case, wherein my services were demanded for this afternoon, Mrs. Mackenzie and her pretended stepson were very much disturbed. But when I assured them that you were a personal friend of the president of the insurance company, and had promised me to be on hand for the purpose of proof and identification, they agreed to go on and try it without me.”

“Well, now that the coast is clear, let us lose no time. Are you ready?”

“At your service.”

“Then come on.”

They went straight to the Mackenzie residence.

The stout servant, Emma, met them at the door, and there was a scowl on her face.

“Why, Dr. Abbott, I thought you had such a serious case on hand this afternoon,” she said, placing her large body in the doorway, and thus barring their entrance.

“So I had, Emma--so serious that death has already resulted.”

“Who was it?”

“An old man with a long, white beard; a man who looked as much like your late employer, Mr. Mackenzie, as if they had been brothers.”

The woman’s face grew deadly white, and for a moment Nick believed she was going to faint.

But Emma was not of the fainting kind. By a great effort, she regained some of her courage, and attempting a laugh, which was a dismal failure, she said:

“Do you expect me to believe that? Where does your important patient live?”

“We think he did live in this house, and have come to investigate a little, to satisfy ourselves.”

Emma had slowly thrust one hand into the folds of her dress skirt. Suddenly, and with a movement as quick as thought, she stepped back, raised her arm and flashed a pistol in Abbott’s face.

She was not quick enough for the detective, however. His large carpetbag swung through the air and hit the weapon just as she pulled the trigger.

There was a report, but the bullet went wide of the mark. In another minute, Emma was securely bound and gagged.

“Now, for a search of the house,” said Nick. “First, I want to see if any changes have been made in the building since Mackenzie moved in.”

“There have been none made on this floor, as I told you, for I’ve been all over it dozens of times,” replied Abbott.

“But you’ve not been upstairs since they took possession?”

“No.”

“Then let us go up and take a look around.”

He led the way first to the front room over the parlor. They no sooner entered than the doctor walked across to the dividing wall opposite the front windows.

“Here is something, Mr. Carter,” exclaimed Abbott, staring at the blank wall.

“What is it?”

“There was a large clothes closet at this place when I rented the house to Mackenzie.”

“And now it is a solid, blank wall?”

“Looks that way.”

Nick tapped against the place indicated.

“Brick!” was his decision.

“Brick!” exclaimed Abbott. “Why, the whole house is wood.”

“Not this part, surely. It is brick, covered with plaster, and neatly papered. Did Mackenzie buy any brick after he came here?”

“No. But I now remember he asked permission to remove a small outbuilding, and that was built of brick.”

“That is where he got them, then. Was there a corresponding closet on the other side?”

“Yes.”

“Let us go around and look at it.”

They went into the apartment over the sitting room, and there, too, the closet had been sealed up by a solid, brick wall.

“Now, we’ll go below and take a look into the closet where Rover’s investigations were so rudely interrupted by the toe of Emma’s shoe,” remarked Nick.

The closet was dark, but Abbott produced a lamp, lighted it, and brought it to Nick’s assistance.

A long stepladder leaned against the wall of the closet.

Nick’s eyes made a careful examination of the ceiling.

Then he moved the ladder to a place about the center of the closet, and mounted the steps until he could place both hands against the board surface over his head, which he did.

He pushed against it without avail.

Meanwhile, Abbott stood below holding the lamp, an interested spectator.

“There is a trapdoor here, I am sure,” said Nick, “but it is somehow secured by---- Ah! Let’s try this.”

He pressed his thumb against the head of a nail, which had a slightly different appearance from the rest; at the same time he maintained the upward pressure of the other hand.

There was the noise of a sharp click, and then a section of the ceiling, about four feet square, began to rise from one side.

Nick had found the secret trapdoor.

Pushing the trap open as he went, the detective continued to ascend the ladder until his head protruded through the opening.

For a moment he stopped to look around. Then he drew himself up to the floor above.

A few moments later he called down:

“Leave your lamp below, doctor, and come up. There is plenty of light.”

Abbott obeyed.

The two men found themselves standing in an apartment about ten feet square, inclosed by four solid walls. The roof of the house, twelve feet above, opened into the glass-inclosed cupola, which surmounted the building, and thus, as Nick and Abbott saw, in an instant, was furnished the medium for light and ventilation.

The floor and walls were deeply padded, and covered with white muslin.

The only furniture in the small room was a single bed, of iron, a chair and a small, rough table.

Indeed, there was little, if any, room, for anything more; though a hole in the side next to the chimney showed plainly that some kind of a stove had been used during the winter.

A hand glass, a pair of scissors, shaving utensils, a basin of water, and two or three bottles lay promiscuously on the table, and scattered over the floor was a mass of white hair.

“Behold all that remains of your friend’s venerable whiskers,” said Nick, pointing to the telltale material at their feet.

“He came up here to renew his youth,” exclaimed Abbott.

“Yes, and was so sure of the security of this hiding place that he didn’t lose any time in destroying the proofs of his villainous plot. See! there are the bottles from Madame Reclaire’s laboratory, whose contents bleached his beard and hair. He even used the wash here right in the presence of the helpless man who was so terribly wronged.”

“This was his prison?”

“Evidently. Have you any idea how they got Templin here without arousing suspicion?”

Dr. Abbott remained in thought a few moments before he replied.

“During the first few months of their residence in the house,” he finally said, “there was a man of all work about the place who, from what you tell me, I believe was the fellow with the sandy beard and hair Madame Reclaire described as a partnership patron with Mackenzie. Maybe he had something to do with smuggling the old man in.”

“I have no doubt of it,” said Nick. “It was probably he who constructed this chamber while Elmwood slept; and helped Mackenzie, or Greene, to bring the victim from some other hiding place to this padded prison. I wish I knew where that sandy-bearded man is at this moment.”

If Nick only had known what he expressed the wish to know, it would have saved him from great danger.

For at the very moment the wish was expressed on his lips, the sandy-bearded man was cautiously crawling up the stepladder, in the closet below.

A few moments later his burly form straightened, his arm went up through the opening, his hand caught hold of the trapdoor, and before Nick or Abbott realized their peril, the door fell, with a muffled sound, and the click of the spring lock was plainly heard.

Abbott turned a startled look upon Nick.

“The trap has fallen,” he exclaimed.

“Yes, but not of its own force.”

“You mean----”

“I mean somebody reached up and closed it. Hist!”

Nick had bent his head toward the floor, and was listening for any sound which might come up from below.

For half a minute everything was silent. Then was heard what seemed to be the sound of crashing glass.

“Abbott, we must get out of this, if we can, without delay,” said Nick, in tones which were full of intense meaning. “They have crashed the lamp among the clothing in the closet beneath us, and thus fired the house.”

“They? Who?”

“I don’t know. But the woman has had help, for she could never have escaped from her bonds unassisted; of that I am sure.”

“Good heavens, Carter! There is no chance for us. The roof is too far beyond our reach, and that is now our only way out,” cried Abbott.