Chapter III: A Curious Clew

It was nearly four o’clock when Nick Carter left the Treasury Building, and he at once turned his steps toward the hotel to which he had directed the two men who had emerged with him from the Union Station.

They were, as no doubt was inferred, his two most efficient assistants, Chick Carter and Patsy Garvan, both in disguise, and four o’clock found them seated in the suite assigned them, to which their trunks and other luggage already had been brought.

Both then had removed their disguise and were reading the local newspapers, when Nick knocked on the door and was admitted by Patsy.

“Well, chief, what’s up?” Patsy eagerly inquired, after closing the door.

Nick removed his outside garments and sat down.

“We have a hard nut to crack,” he replied. “The case is a serious one, very serious.”

“What’s the nature of it?” Chick questioned. “I have been vainly searching the newspapers.”

“The case has not reached the newspapers. The facts have been suppressed. They are known by only a few except the persons involved.”

Nick then proceeded to tell them of what the case consisted, covering in detail all that he had learned from Chief Welden and Harold Garland.

“By Jove, it does look like a hard nut to crack,” Chick agreed, after listening attentively. “It will make a mighty bad mess for the government unless those plans can be quickly recovered. Have you any definite suspicions?”

“Not exactly,” Nick replied. “There is one point on which we first must decide.”

“Just when and where the dummy portfolio was substituted for the other,” said Chick.

“Precisely.”

“How can we arrive at that?”

“By a process of elimination,” said Nick. “It’s not reasonable to suppose, in view of Garland’s positive assertions, that Captain Backas is guilty of treachery and treason.”

“Surely not,” Chick coincided. “Furthermore, he would not have taken the risk that Garland would discover the crime even before leaving, or arriving at the Annapolis station. In that case he would, of course, have instantly attributed the crime to Backas.”

“Very true,” Nick nodded. “That alone is enough to confirm Garland’s statements. He undoubtedly had the plans, then, when he started for the station. He rode alone in a taxicab. We can safely assume, then, that he still had his own portfolio when he boarded the train.”

“It strikes me, chief, that there is the most likely place for the trick to have been turned,” said Patsy.

“I don’t agree with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the publicity on a train,” said Nick. “It would have been exceedingly difficult to steal the portfolio and substitute another without being seen by other passengers. If caught in the act, moreover, escape from a fast-moving train is almost impossible. Crooks shrink from taking such chances. They would have been much more likely to select a safer place for the job.”

“That seems reasonable, chief, after all,” nodded Patsy.

“It convinced me that Garland is right, which eliminates that part of his journey,” Nick continued. “I think he had his own portfolio up to the time he entered the touring car with the two young ladies.”

“But would either of them serve him such a trick?” Chick questioned doubtfully.

“Garland don’t think so,” Nick replied, smiling. “He was very quick to resent a mere suggestion to that effect. He admits having placed the portfolio on the seat, nevertheless, and it may have been then, or during the ride to his apartments, that the substitution was accomplished.”

“By one of the women?”

“Presumably. The chauffeur could not have done it without being detected.”

“But consider their character,” said Chick. “One is the daughter of Senator Barclay. The other----”

“I prefer to consider the circumstances, Chick,” Nick interrupted. “They are much more to the point just now. I will consider the women after having seen them.”

“You say Miss Barclay sat in the front seat?”

“Yes, with the chauffeur,” replied Nick. “She would have had less opportunity than the other. Her name is Verona Warren, but I did not inquire further concerning her. If Garland were to feel that I really suspect her, he might inadvertently betray the fact to her, even though cautioned against it, which would serve to put her on her guard.”

“Surely.”

“We will look up both of them a little later and see what we can learn about them,” Nick added. “It was early evening, mind you, and such a trick could be much more easily turned in the dark than in daylight. That is another reason for my thinking that then is when it was done.”

“You are right, too, I reckon,” Chick allowed. “It seems almost incredible, nevertheless.”

Nick did not reply to the last. He arose and went to the bathroom to remove his disguise and make a change of clothing.

Chick lit a cigar and fell to pondering upon the case, the extraordinary gravity of which gave it special interest.

Patsy Garvan took a chair near one of the windows and resumed his perusal of a newspaper. He had been reading only a few minutes, when, looking up, he said abruptly:

“Gee! here’s a curious case, Chick.”

“Case of what?” Chick tersely questioned. “Not a case of beer, I hope.”

“No, nothing like that,” grinned Patsy. “A case of assault. Listen. I will read it to you.”

He reverted to the newspaper again and read aloud the following article:

“‘MYSTERY UNSOLVED.

“‘The motive for the brutal assault suffered by Captain Casper
Dillon last Friday evening is still an unsolved mystery. The
circumstances, as stated by him and in part corroborated by a
witness of the assault, afford no explanation of the outrage, which
is said to have been entirely unprovoked.

“‘The one man who was run down and arrested by the witness
mentioned, moreover, still forcibly denies that he was one of the
assailants, and asserts that he was only trying to protect Captain
Dillon, and ran away only in pursuit of the two ruffians who had
assaulted him, and who succeeded in making their escape.

“‘Captain Dillon was returning to his lodgings at the time and had
nearly arrived at his door. The street then appeared to be
deserted. When passing the entrance to a narrow court, however, in
which his assailants evidently had been lying in wait for him,
Captain Dillon was set upon from behind and struck senseless with a
bludgeon of some kind. The assault was so quickly committed that he
had hardly a glimpse at his assailants, insufficient to identify
them, or positively determine their number.

“‘Paul Makepeace, a lawyer living in the same street, turned a
corner just in time to see the three men running away and the
insensible form of Captain Dillon lying on the sidewalk. Makepeace
at once gave chase, overtaking one of the fleeing men in Indiana
Avenue, where he was given in charge of a policeman.

“‘The arrested man is Thomas Carney, and he is well known to the
local police. He has twice been convicted of petty larceny, and is
said to be of a depraved and desperate character.

“‘Carney insists, nevertheless, that he was walking some thirty
yards behind Captain Dillon, when two men sprang out of the court
and felled the captain to the ground. Carney protests that he does
not know either of the two ruffians, in pursuit of whom he claims
to have started, and who appeared to have no other designs upon
their unsuspecting victim.

“‘This is confirmed in a measure by the fact that Captain Dillon
was not robbed of anything, though he had considerable money and
jewelry on his person. The thugs, on the other hand, may have
feared to complete their work.

“‘In the gutter near which Captain Dillon fell was found a false
beard and mustache, evidently a disguise worn by one of the thugs,
and which presumably was torn off and lost in the brief combat.

“‘Captain Dillon states that he is completely in the dark as to the
motive for the assault, as well as the identity of his assailants.
He appeared in the municipal court when Carney was arraigned on
Saturday morning. He was unable to refute the prisoner’s
statements, however, and Carney has been held pending further
investigations. The case bids fair to remain, nevertheless, an
unsolved mystery.’”

Patsy lowered the newspaper while he read the last line of the article, gazing over it at Chick who said indifferently:

“I see nothing very mysterious in that. The thugs had a grudge against Dillon for some reason, and they got back at him by knocking him on the head.”

“They did that all right, at least,” Patsy said dryly.

“It reads like a lot of smoke from a very small fire,” Chick added. “There is nothing to it, in my opinion, if the whole truth were told. The reporter who wrote it up must have been working on space, or----”

“One moment,” Nick interrupted, returning to the room while only partly dressed. “I don’t quite agree with you, Chick. Read the story again, Patsy. I heard only parts of it while dressing.”

Patsy hastened to comply, reading the article from beginning to end.

Nick stood listening while knotting his necktie. His strong, clean-cut face became more grave. His eyes took on a more intent expression.

“There may be more fire, Chick, than is supposed,” said he, taking the newspaper from Patsy and glancing himself at the article. “I think there really is, in fact.”

“Why so?” questioned Chick, a bit surprised. “For what reason?”

“Several,” said Nick. “One because I have met Captain Casper Dillon and happen to know something about him. He is not the type of man I fancy.”

“What about him, Nick?”

“He is not in active service, from which he retired several years ago because of a slow illness, from which his physician said he could not recover. He came out of it all right, nevertheless, and he since has occasionally been given minor foreign missions for the government, as he spends about half of his time abroad. He became quite conspicuous in the diplomatic broil we had with the Russian government three years ago, certain features of which I was called upon to investigate, resulting in an amicable adjustment of the whole business.”

“I remember,” Chick nodded.

“It was then that I met Captain Dillon,” Nick added. “I suspected him of having been a bit off color in that affair, but I could not find sufficient evidence to warrant making charges against him. I venture to say, nevertheless, though probably no one would believe me, that he has been the indirect cause of more international correspondence by the state department than any other man in Washington. I confidently advised the secretary of state at that time to look out for him.”

“A soldier of fortune, eh?” Chick remarked.

“I don’t know about that,” said Nick. “I do believe, however, that Captain Casper Dillon would not hesitate to increase his fortune by any crafty or even treasonable means that could be safely employed. That’s what I think of Captain Dillon.”

“He may have incurred the enmity, then, of the ruffians who assaulted him,” said Chick. “Why do you attach special significance to the incident? I see nothing extraordinary in it.”