Chapter II: The Cuban Girl

When Nick had attended to Chick’s messages he sent a long letter to Ida, in which he instructed her to find out the private address of James Rogers; to go there; try to ascertain whether or not Aimee Rogers really loved Dr. Lord, and to telegraph to him the moment she got the required information.

Darkness was now setting in, and Nick Carter strolled along Washington street. As he went by the passage that leads to Parke’s restaurant, he decided to take his dinner there, and accordingly, five minutes later, he was seated at a corner table, waiting for his order.

At a large table, close to him, four fashionably dressed young men were dining. The dishes had all been removed, and they were now enjoying their cigars over some black coffee and brandy.

Nick Carter soon disposed of the plain course which he had ordered, and was about to leave the restaurant when he heard one of the young fellows say:

"Sad about Sam Rogers’ governor, wasn’t it?"

"Waiter! Bring me a cup of coffee!" said Nick.

He then took a newspaper from his pocket and pretended to read it.

While listening attentively to the conversation of the four young fellows, he heard one of them say:

"I dare say old Rogers’ death will postpone Sam’s marriage with Miss Bland."

"I shouldn’t be surprised," said another.

"Lucky dog," said the first speaker. "They say that Lucy Bland is worth fully half a million."

"At least," rejoined his friend. "But look here, Porter, when did you see Sam’s other girl, the olive-tinted loved one? That girl will give him some trouble, if he is not more careful."

"See her? My dear fellow, I saw her last night."

"Where?"

"At the Providence depot, just as the snow stopped falling."

Nick Carter took a deep drink of his coffee and listened very intently now.

"What was she doing?" asked one of the speakers. "Going to New York?"

"Precisely. I bowed to her and asked if I could be of any service. She simply asked me the best hotel to stop at in Providence. I told her, and said, ‘You are surely not going to stop at that awful hole.’"

"You have cheek," interrupted one of the diners.

"Oh, you be blowed!" said the gentleman named Porter. "The girl laughed at the idea of remaining in Providence. She said that she merely intended stopping there for the night, and that she was going to New York by the nine o’clock boat to-day."

"If Rogers hears that you are interesting yourself in that girl, Porter, it will be pistols and coffee for two. By the way, what’s the divinity’s name?"

"Alvarez. I think she is a Cuban, or South American, or something of that kind."

Nick didn’t wait to hear any more.

He hurriedly paid his bill and left the restaurant.

It was now five o’clock.

"I have just time to notify Chick," he said.

In two minutes he was at the telegraph office, in the Parker House, writing the following dispatch to his faithful assistant:

"Meet boat left Providence nine o’clock this morning. Observe handsome Cuban lady named Alvarez. Keep her within distance until you hear from me.

"Nick."

He then returned to his hotel and wrote a letter to Chick, directing him to shadow his woman, find out all about her, and, if possible, discover what her business was.

Half an hour later he rang the bell at the Rogers mansion.

The door was opened by young Rogers in person, who led the way to the parlor.

"Is Dr. Lord here?" asked Nick, before the young man could say a word.

"Yes. He is with my uncle, who has also arrived."

"Well, he mustn’t see me. He might recognize me if we keep talking here."

"Recognize you?" said Rogers, when he had conducted Nick to his own bed chamber. "What do you mean, Mr. Carter? Does he know you?"

"I don’t think so; but, you know, doctors and detectives often meet under peculiar circumstances."

Rogers gave him a puzzled look.

He clearly did not understand Nick Carter’s ways.

And Nick clearly determined that he should not.

As they proceeded to another room, Nick asked:

"When did you see the woman Alvarez last?"

"Mr. Carter!" cried Rogers, turning deathly pale, "where on earth did you learn anything about her?"

"I have many channels from which to gather my information," said Nick, coolly. "But you have not answered my question. When did you see her last?"

"The evening before my father died."

"Was she in the house after Dr. Lord went away?"

"In the name of goodness, what have you learned?" asked Rogers, in apparent terror.

"A good deal about your relations with her, my dear young sir," said Nick, who was narrowly watching the perturbation of his companion.

The young fellow’s eyes twitched nervously; he was trembling, Nick saw plainly.

He altered his tactics, and said:

"Look here, Mr. Rogers, you told me this morning that you would conceal nothing from me. Do you think you are treating me fairly?"

"Well," said the young fellow, who was crushed from amazement more than anything else, "I shall make a clean breast of it."