Chapter IV: An Unexpected Clew
Nick Carter was not long in deciding what plans he would adopt. He took the Redlaw letter from the table, saying, while he folded it and slipped it into his pocket:
“I will keep this for the present. I may not be able to trace the writer, but we will take advantage of one fact, at least, that he wants a personal interview with Mr. Mack.”
“How would it work, Carter, to have me secretly shadowed?” Dave inquired. “We might in that way contrive to locate the entire gang.”
“There would be nothing in attempting anything of that kind,” Nick quickly objected. “The crooks engaged in this job are not blockheads. They will guard against being discovered by any such trick as that.”
“You may be right,” Mack thoughtfully allowed.
“I know I am right,” Nick insisted. “You must be governed strictly by my instructions.”
“You may depend upon that.”
“To begin with, then, you must inform me by telephone as soon as you hear from Redlaw and learn when and where you are to meet him. If I happen to be out of my house, you may state the circumstances to one of my assistants.”
“I will do so.”
“State precisely what you learn and what is expected of you. The rascal will devise some way of safely meeting you.”
“What shall I say to him? What----”
“We must play for time,” Nick interrupted. “I want time in which to get in my work. You must discuss the matter with that object in view.”
“I understand.”
“Pretend that you cannot definitely settle the matter in a single interview; that you must confer again with Mr. Madden before doing so, and that a second interview will be necessary,” Nick added. “Employ an argument, or subterfuge, in fact, that will enable you to stave off a definite agreement with the scamps.”
“I’ve got you,” Dave nodded. “Leave it to me.”
“Having kept the appointment and accomplished that much, you must let me know all of the particulars as quickly as possible,” Nick proceeded. “Telephone to me, however, instead of coming to my office. I will then give you further instructions. They will depend, of course, upon what you report to me.”
“Certainly. I understand you perfectly.”
“That is all, then, at present,” said Nick. “Do only what I have directed, Mr. Mack, and leave me to do the rest. If I find that I----”
A knock on the door interrupted him. A clerk from the outer office entered.
“Mr. Littlefield is here, sir,” said he, addressing the cashier of the firm. “He wants to go through his account with you this morning, as you requested.”
“Yes, yes, to be sure. Tell him I will be with him in just a moment.”
David Mack arose while speaking, then turned to the detective.
“It will take me a quarter hour,” said he. “Will you excuse me? I will return as soon as----”
“There is no occasion,” Nick interposed. “You know what is required of you, and I shall leave in a very few minutes.”
“Very well. You will hear from me later, then.”
“Certainly. As soon as you have heard from Redlaw.”
“Trust me for that,” Dave nodded, extending his hand. “You can bank on me, Carter, to do precisely what you have directed.”
“Much may depend upon it. Good morning.”
David Mack turned and hastened from the room.
Nick gazed at the aged banker, noting his haggard expression and that there were tears in his eyes.
“Don’t lose heart, Mr. Madden,” he said kindly. “I think we will finally outwit these rascals and get the best of them.”
“Do you really think so?” Mr. Madden questioned, a bit doubtfully.
“I do, indeed.”
“But tell me frankly, Nick,” entreated the banker. “Have you any definite clew, any suspicions that really warrant the encouragement you give me? I wish to know the worst.”
Nick was averse to deceiving him. He realized only too keenly that he had, as yet, no definite clew to the identity of the crooks, and that he then was banking almost entirely upon the arrangements he had just made with David Mack, and upon what they would bring forth. He shook his head and rejoined, a bit gravely:
“Frankly, Mr. Madden, I can only reply in the negative.”
“I feared so.”
“I feel confident, nevertheless, that I soon shall pick up a thread worth following,” Nick quickly added. “I never can tell when that may happen. It may come when least expected. I will immediately inform you in that case and relieve your anxiety.”
“Do so, Nick, by all means.”
“I suppose in case you are absent that your stenographer will forward any message I might send.”
Nick glanced at the covered typewriter mentioned, but with no idea that his prediction of a moment before was about to be verified.
“Some one would surely forward a message,” Mr. Madden replied. “Our stenographer left us a few days ago, however, and her position has not yet been filled.”
“H’m, I see! Why did she leave?”
“I really do not know. Partly, I imagine, because she frequently had to come to my residence for dictation. I do not come to the office regularly, you know, and I often had occasion to telephone her to come to my house. She may have objected to that, though she never said so.”
“A young woman?” questioned Nick.
“Well, not very young. She must be nearly thirty.”
“How long was she employed here?”
“About four months.”
“She went to your house quite frequently, you say?”
“Yes. Several times each week.”
“Was she in the habit of seeing your daughter?”
“Yes, indeed. She was quite fond of Amy, and occasionally brought her candy. She----”
“Stop a moment,” Nick interrupted, with brows contracting. “Who is this woman? What is her name?”
“Clara Randall.”
“Do you know anything definite about her?”
“Only that she came well recommended and is very capable,” said Mr. Madden. “I was sorry to lose her.”
“What style of woman?” Nick persisted. “Describe her.”
“She is quite a striking woman, very handsome and with fine figure.”
“Light or dark?”
“She is a pronounced brunette, with a peculiarly pallid complexion and very expressive eyes. She----”
“That’s enough!” Nick exclaimed, interrupting. “I know her.”
“Know her?” Mr. Madden stared.
“As sure as you’re a foot high,” Nick declared emphatically. “You asked me a minute ago, Mr. Madden, whether I had any definite clew to these rascals. I now revoke what I said. I have a decidedly definite clew.”
“Good heavens!” Mr. Madden exclaimed. “You don’t mean, Carter, that you suspect Clara Randall of this abduction?”
“That is precisely what I suspect.”
“But why so? What do you know about her?”
“Enough to convince me that I am right,” said Nick. “Her name is not Clara Randall. It is Kate Crandall. Notice the similarity. It is something more than a coincidence. You will remember, too, that I said I recognized the voice of the woman with whom I talked by telephone in your residence yesterday. I could not place the voice, then, but I now place it all right. It was Kate Crandall’s voice. I will stake my reputation on that.”
“But what do you know about her?” Mr. Madden repeated. “Is she a crook?”
“As crooked as a ribbon in a wind,” Nick declared. “She twice has figured in cases that I was called upon to investigate.”
“Heavens! Is it possible?”
“One was the mysterious disappearance of a well-known clergyman, the Reverend Austin Maybrick. The other was the supposed suicide of one Cyrus Darling, a married man, who was so completely captivated by Kate Crandall’s wiles and beauty that he sold out his business and pretended to kill himself, in order to marry her and settle in parts unknown without being suspected. I was lucky enough to head off her game, however, and save the man his fortune, which was all she was after. She is as wily, tricky, and heartless a jade, Mr. Madden, as ever stood in leather.”
“If that is the case----”
“There are no ifs, Mr. Madden, in regard to that,” Nick again interrupted. “I know the woman’s character from A to Z. Do you know where she has been living?”
“Yes. She has a suite in the Carleton, an apartment house on Lexington Avenue.”
“Did have, not has,” said Nick, a bit dryly. “Take it from me, Mr. Madden, she will have vanished from the Carleton. She is too clever to have overlooked the fact that she might be suspected of the abduction. But I will trace her. You leave that to me.”
“Your arrangements with David, then----”
“Still go,” Nick cut in tersely. “Let him proceed precisely as if I had not picked up this thread. I will be ready to take advantage of anything he may learn.”
“I will inform him.”
“In the meantime, too, I will start my assistants after Kate Crandall, and unless I am much mistaken, there soon will be something doing,” Nick grimly predicted, rising abruptly. “That is all for this morning, Mr. Madden. You will hear from me later.”
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Nick Carter Stories No. 123, January 16, 1915: Half a million ransom; or, Nick Carter and the needy nine.Chapter IV: An Unexpected Clew
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