Chapter IV: It Worked Like a Charm

When he arrived at the Adams House, he found a telegram from Chick, which read:

"Alvarez at Spanish-American Hotel. Dining with the Cuban, Moreno. Shall endeavor to overhear conversation. If important, will report at Boston and put Patsy on the case here."

"Good!" said Nick. "The fellow who tried to knock me out must be one of Moreno’s gang. I must warn Chick."

He forthwith sent the following cipher telegram:

"Telegram received. Moreno’s gang have discovered I am on case. One of them made attempt on my life. Act cautiously, and come on if anything important.

NICK."

He handed this to the operator in the hotel corridor, and, feeling satisfied that nothing more could be done that night, he retired to his room.

Early in the morning he was awakened by a loud knocking at the door.

"A telegram for you, sir!" said a voice.

"Push it under the door!" cried Nick.

He tore open the dispatch and seemed to be completely mystified by the contents. It read:

"Rogers case. Watch Lord. Am writing. Important news.

CHICK."

He dressed himself hurriedly, and immediately telegraphed to Chick:

"Received telegram. Come on at once. Put Patsy in charge.

NICK."

After breakfast he took the train to Dorchester.

It was now nine o’clock, and the funeral was to take place at ten.

He wandered up the road where Lord’s house was situated, and was just making up his mind to call when he saw a carriage stop at the gate.

"Too late," said Nick. "The fellow is just going up to Rogers’ place."

Nevertheless, he lolled about in the shadow of the trees.

In a few minutes Dr. Lord’s door was opened, and Nick Carter saw a sight that surprised even him.

Walking down the garden path, apparently in earnest conversation, were the doctor and the Cuban who had attempted to assassinate him the night before. Dr. Lord got into the carriage; but the Cuban, taking off his hat respectfully, turned from the place and walked down the road, followed by Nick at a safe distance, who saw his man enter a street car bound toward Boston.

Nick hailed a cab near at hand.

He merely showed the driver his badge and said:

"Keep that car in sight; but do not pass it!"

"Trust me, sir," said the hackman, with a knowing wink.

When his fare stepped out of the cab, at the corner of Kneeland and Washington streets, the driver nearly lost his balance from the shock.

A lively-looking chap got into the cab in Dorchester, and a staid-looking clergyman paid him his fare in Washington street.

The Cuban had left the street car at the next block, and Nick hurried after him on foot.

The man entered the United States Hotel, and immediately went to the office.

Nick Carter was close at his elbow.

"Any letters or telegrams for Gonzales?" inquired the Cuban.

"Yes, sir. One telegram," said the clerk, who handed it to him.

He tore open the envelope and began to read the dispatch.

Nick was watching him intently, although he was apparently studying a time-table.

The Cuban seemed to be puzzled about something in that telegram.

He looked around uneasily, still holding the message in his hand.

Finally his eyes rested on the clergyman, and he approached him.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, with a pronounced foreign accent. "I am a stranger. I have just received this telegram."

Here he handed the dispatch to Nick and added:

"What is the meaning of Bay State, Worcester?"

Nick Carter looked up from the telegram and replied, in a well-disguised voice:

"There is a hotel in Worcester called the Bay State; but this message tells you to ask somebody named Rogers about it."

The Cuban laughed and said:

"No, no! You no understand. But I thank you for explain hotel."

Whereupon he took the telegram from Nick, lifted his hat courteously, and disappeared in the direction of the bar.

The moment he was out of sight, Nick said to himself:

"That worked like a charm. The dispatch must have been from Moreno."

He immediately took off his disguise and ordered a cab.

"To police headquarters!" was his instruction to the driver.

When he arrived there, he asked to see the chief.

"Why, Mr. Carter, how do you do?" cordially welcomed the head of Boston’s police.

"I want you to do me a favor," said Nick.

"Certainly, my dear sir. Got some important case on, I’ll wager."

"Yes," mildly returned Nick. "It is a very mysterious case. I want you to arrest a Cuban named Gonzales, and hold him without examination for me. If you do this secretly you will oblige me, as his detention may be of much importance."

"With pleasure," said the chief, as he touched a bell.

An officer answered instantly.

"Send Waldo here at once."

"Yes, sir.

"Waldo," said the chief, when the detective entered, "go with this gentleman and arrest the party he will point out. Ask no questions, and bring your prisoner. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

At the United States Hotel, Waldo, who spoke Spanish fluently, asked for Gonzales.

He was in his room.

Waldo ascended to the Cuban’s apartment, and returned in about ten minutes with his prisoner. Nobody in the hotel corridor imagined for a moment that an arrest had been made, so friendly did the pair seem to be.

Only one person understood the situation.

That was Nick, who anxiously watched them from the paper stand, fearful that the Cuban might make a break for liberty.

But Waldo knew his business too well.

He hailed a cab, ordered Gonzales to get in, and, having taken a seat opposite his prisoner, he directed the cabman to drive to police headquarters.

When they had gone, Nick consulted his watch.

It was half-past one.

"Now for young Rogers!" he cried.