Chapter IX: By the Air Line

Nick Carter arrived early that afternoon in the big department store of Mantell & Goulard, and several circumstances determined, as he had predicted to Patsy that morning, the course he afterward shaped.

One was the fact that, for the reasons already presented, he had received no communication from Chick and knew nothing about his movements.

Another was the fact that he could find no sign of Patsy Garvan in any part of the great store.

A third was the fact that Gaston Goulard was absent from his office, and that his whereabouts was unknown, as Nick learned upon talking with Frank Mantell and his father, which he then had decided to do, and both of whom he found in the private office of the senior partner.

Nick then learned, too, of the theft that had been committed in the receiving room that morning, about which Goulard had expressed himself so forcibly after apparently vainly investigating it.

Nick smiled a bit grimly after gathering these several points, and now suspicions began to arise in his mind.

“Have there been previous thefts from the receiving room, Mr. Mantell?” he inquired, addressing the elder.

“Yes, many of them; very many,” was the reply.

“Who has charge in that room?”

“A man named George Tenney.”

“Reliable?”

“I feel absolutely sure of it. He has been in my employ for a long time.”

“He evidently is being duped in some way, then,” said Nick. “He looks after the opening of all packages that are received, I suppose, and sees that their contents are sent up to the salesrooms.”

“Yes, of course, with the occasional help of Goulard, or Mr. Lombard.”

“They were both in the receiving room this morning, I think you have stated.”

“They were, Mr. Carter,” bowed Mantell. “They went down to investigate the theft.”

“Was either of them there before the theft was discovered?”

“Yes. Mr. Lombard went down to check off an invoice of the package from which the two shawls are missing.”

“I see,” Nick remarked. “I think I will go down there, Frank, and look around a bit. Show me the way as far as the stairs, then leave me, and pay no attention to my doings. I may have something to report a little later.”

Frank Mantell arose to obey, and Nick accompanied him down to the ground floor.

As they were turning toward the stairway leading down to the basement receiving room, Frank touched the detective’s arm and said quietly:

“There goes Lombard, now. I think he is going down to the receiving room.”

Lombard was heading for the stairs with a wrapped bundle about a foot long and nearly as large in diameter, but he did not see Mantell and his companion.

Nick watched him for a moment, then said quietly:

“Leave me, Mantell. I can find the way by following him.”

Nick had more than one object in doing so.

He arrived at the head of the stairs just as Lombard turned to the left in the great basement room.

Nick darted down after him, and again fortune favored him. He reached the entrance to the room, which was always partly filled with unopened packages of divers descriptions, just in time to see Lombard glide stealthily back of a high pile of cases about two feet from one of the walls.

Nick saw an empty case about ten feet to the right of the door. He crouched behind it and waited.

Less than two minutes had passed when Lombard returned--without the bundle.

He quickly reached the stairway and hurried up to the business part of the store.

Nick Carter’s eyes had a sharper gleam when he crept from his concealment. He at once gave his attention to the narrow passage in which Lombard must have left the bundle.

One side was formed by the high pile of cases.

On the other was a sheathed wall.

Nick examined the cases in rapid succession, and he soon found that none of them could be opened. Obviously, none could be a hiding place for the bundle.

Nick then began a careful inspection of the wall, sounding it foot by foot by tapping it with his knuckles. He suspected, of course, that there might be a secret panel with an open space behind it.

Presently he found a spot that sounded more hollow than other sections.

“By Jove, I think I’m right,” he muttered. “But there seems to be no crack or crevice. The panel, if there is one, is most cleverly concealed.”

Persistently searching the wall, however, Nick finally discovered the head of a nail some six feet above the floor. It did not appear to be as dusty as the rest of the wall. He reached up and pressed it with his thumb.

This instantly brought a faint click from behind the sheathing.

A section of it about two feet square, so neatly fitted that the cracks were invisible, separated from the rest and swung outward under the impulse of a hidden spring.

It brought to light the foundation wall of the building, also a circular metal plate about fourteen inches in diameter, with a handle by which it could be swung downward parallel with the face of the wall.

Nick forced it down and discovered the opening of a tube through the wall, and in the tube a cylinder such as Patsy had seen in the subterranean chamber.

Nick instantly hit upon the truth, of course, and the mystery as to how the merchandise had been taken from the store ended then and there.

“A pneumatic tube,” he said to himself, noting the tight-fitting flange of felt around the end of the cylinder. “Similar to those of a cash system. The tube evidently runs underground to another building, where there must be an engine and air pump for removing the air from the tube. That done, and this plate lowered, the cylinder would fly through the tube in an instant.”

Nick carefully noted the probable direction of the tube, then turned a knob in the metal end of the cylinder, from which he took, as he expected--the bundle seen under Lombard’s arm only ten minutes before.

Nick closed the tube and panel, then took the bundle up to Mr. Mantell’s private office, where he found both father and son.

“By gracious, Nick, there has been another theft,” Frank Mantell cried, when the detective entered. “A pair of costly lace curtains is missing from that department.”

Nick did not care for any particulars. He sat down in one of the large leather chairs and placed the bundle on the floor behind it.

“That’s too bad, Mantell,” he remarked. “I would like to question one of your managers. Send for Mr. Lombard, since we happened to notice him a few minutes ago.”

Frank Mantell looked surprised, but hastened to obey.

Lombard entered in about five minutes, apparently apprehending nothing.

Nick had removed his disguise and thrust it into his pocket.

“Sit down, Mr. Lombard,” said he, without waiting to be introduced. “I am told there has just been another mysterious theft in this store.”

“Yes, so I have heard,” was the quick reply. “I was just going to look into the matter.”

“Don’t you think it would be more profitable to look into that pneumatic tube that leads out of the receiving room?” Nick inquired.

Lombard turned as white as his shirt front.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he faltered. “What--what tube?”

“That in which I found this bundle a few minutes ago,” said Nick, taking it from behind his chair and tearing it open. “Here are the stolen lace curtains. I refer to the tube, Mr. Lombard, in which you placed them.”

Lombard started to rise, but his knees gave way under him and he nearly fainted in his chair, while Mantell and his father stared in speechless amazement.

Nick leaned forward, and, before Lombard fairly knew it, snapped a pair of handcuffs on the culprit’s wrists.

“Now,” said he, more sternly, “tell me where that tube leads, Mr. Lombard, and be quick about it. The jig is up for you and your confederates.”

Lombard pulled himself together and glared at Nick with a scowl.

“You’ll learn nothing from me,” he growled bitterly. “Find out for yourself, if you want to know.”

“That’s precisely what I will do,” declared Nick, starting up. “Look after this man, Mantell, till I return. I have a hunch that I shall not return alone.”

Nick did not wait for a reply, but seized his hat and hurried from the office. He had noted the probable direction of the underground tube, and he hastened through the corridor and down the same back stairway over which Patsy had pursued Gaston Goulard.

“Humph!” he ejaculated, upon arriving in the court. “It runs under these pavements and into the basement of this next building. I’ll find out who occupies it.”

Nick hurried out to the side street and gazed up at the sign: “Acme Novelty Company.”

“Novelty, indeed,” thought Nick, trying the door and finding it locked. “No one at home, eh? I’ll slip around and try the back door.”

He had arrived nearly at the entrance to the alley, when he caught sight of a policeman on the opposite side of the street. He whistled and beckoned him over.

“Come with me, Doyle, and have your gun within easy reach,” he said quietly.

“Something up, Mr. Carter?” questioned Doyle, at once recognizing the detective.

“Yes,” Nick nodded. “I don’t know yet, however, how big game we may find.”

“Sure, I don’t care how big, sir.”

“Follow me through the alley, then, and----”

Nick stopped for an instant only.

There had reached his ear a sound, though a bit muffled, which he instantly recognized--the sharp, spiteful crack of a revolver.

“Come on, Doyle,” he snapped quickly. “That smacks of big game, all right. I reckon we’re in the nick of time.”

Nick was running at top speed through the alley while speaking, with the burly policeman close on his heels.

Ten seconds brought them to the back door of the building--which Patsy Garvan had left unlocked.

Nick then heard the shouts of men within, and the furious voice of Gaston Goulard.

“We’ve got them, Doyle,” he said quietly, pausing for an instant. “Are you ready?”

“I’ll go ahead, if you say the word.”

“Not much!”

Nick turned the knob and threw open the door, shedding the bright daylight into the dim hall in which Goulard, Bart Bailey, Nolan, and Bolton were attempting with fierce threats to subdue Chick and Patsy, who had smashed the lamps in the subterranean chamber only a moment before.

Nick broke in upon them with his revolver ready, shouting sternly:

“Cut it, you fellows! Hands up, and----”

His voice was drowned by the crack of a revolver in the hand of the only man who ventured any resistance--that of Bart Bailey.

The rascal had crouched quickly back of Goulard, and had escaped Nick’s immediate notice.

The bullet tore a hole in the detective’s sleeve and inflicted a slight wound in Doyle’s left shoulder.

Goulard sprang aside instinctively.

Bart Bailey was raising his weapon to fire again.

Nick’s barked on the instant, and the bullet went true.

Bailey pitched forward on his face in the narrow entry, dead before he hit the floor.

There were curses and imprecations, but no further resistance, and the three remaining crooks were speedily handcuffed and started for the Tombs, the initiatory step in the retributive path. Meyers was arrested in Philadelphia half an hour later, and the round-up was complete.

The details of the crime, as they afterward appeared, were very nearly in line with which Nick Carter had been led to suspect. It was learned later that Goulard long had been hopelessly under water financially, having vast secret commitments in the stock market, and he confessed to having taken this method to rob his partner and repair his wasted fortune. He had gone far enough to nearly wreck the business, as a matter of fact, and the firm went out of existence a little later.

Commenting upon him and the case to his assistants shortly before the trial of the culprits, while seated with Chick and Patsy in his library, Nick Carter made several predictions which later proved for the most part to be correct.

“That rascal,” he observed, speaking of Gaston Goulard, “carries the mark of Cain. He has begun with being a traitor to his own partner. He probably will do time for the crime, and then he will continue the downward path. It’s odds that he will commit murder sooner or later. For, unless I am much mistaken, the mark is on him. The others will be convicted and sent to prison. As for Bart Bailey--well, let the dead bury the dead. His death has, at least, opened the way for Frank Mantell to win over the girl he loves, and they are well worthy of one another.”

“That’s right, chief,” declared Patsy.

“I would wager,” Nick added, “that they’ll be married within the year.”

THE END.

“A Network of Crime; or, Nick Carter’s Tangled Skein,” will be the
title of the long, complete story which you will find in the next
issue, No. 149, of the NICK CARTER STORIES. Then, too, there will
be the usual installment of the interesting serial which is now
running. There will also be several other interesting articles.

Sheridan of the U. S. Mail.

By RALPH BOSTON.

(This interesting story was commenced in No. 148 of NICK CARTER
STORIES. Back numbers can always be obtained from your news dealer
or the publishers.)