Chapter XXI: Nick Discovers a New Mystery

With the principal actors in the plot of death for the Danton millions safely in the hands of the law, Nick Carter began to breathe more freely. He followed closely the trial of the accused murderer to see that no loop-hole for escape from conviction was taken advantage of by the accused man.

He had long conferences with the district attorney and laid before him all the necessary facts in the conspiracy, avoiding, as far as it was possible, dragging the family into the case. In this he had the hearty cooperation of the prosecuting officer to whom he frankly turned over all the data he had gathered, bearing either directly or indirectly on the charge of murder, asking in return only that the family be spared as much as possible in the presentation of the evidence.

There was scarcely any defense offered at all, and, indeed, so apathetic had the prisoner appeared to be, that it was thought he had abandoned hope.

The idea that all that time he was lying low for the very purpose of averting suspicion from his real plans never once occurred to anybody.

The trial was short, although the prisoner was forced to spend many weeks in his cell in the Tombs before the case was reached on the calendar. The result was a conviction, and Nick felt that a great load had been lifted from his mind when he learned that Rogers, strangely calm in the face of the verdict, had been led from the court-room a condemned murderer.

If Nick could have known what that calm, unruffled demeanor meant he would not have been so greatly relieved.

Following his usual custom of washing his hands of a case after turning a criminal over to the proper authorities, Nick, when he had placed all the evidence at his command in the hands of the district attorney, had gone away to New Brunswick, on a fishing-trip.

Isabel Benton could not be connected with the murder at all, either before or after the fact, and the charge against her had been so vague that she escaped with a light sentence in the penitentiary.

Mercedes Danton, worn by the thrilling events of the past few weeks, went to Europe, and Reginald betook himself to parts unknown to pass away the hot season of the year.

But even on his outing trip Nick Carter was destined to be called into a case of mystery that, however, was so soon solved that the detective regarded it as only one of the side issues that come to him now and then, and which he dabbles in either from motives of friendship, curiosity, or amusement. In this case, however, it led to a strange development.

He was about to bring his visit to an end, and was spending his last evening of “loafing” in the cozy study of his host, Jack Northrup, smoking and chatting, when the servant announced a visitor.

“George Smart. I wonder what brings him down here?” said Northrup, as he read the card that the servant brought to him. “Show the gentleman in here. George is a young lawyer, and an awfully nice chap. You’ll like him,” he continued, turning to Nick as the servant retired.

The lawyer promptly followed his card and greeted Northrup cordially as he entered the room with the air of a man of determination and quick action.

“Why, George, what brings you down here?” asked Northrup.

“Business,” replied Smart promptly. “You didn’t think I had wandered down to this hole in the world for pleasure, did you?”

“My friend, Mr. Carter,” said Northrup, laughing at the lawyer’s wry face, as he introduced the men. “Now lay off your coat and join us in a pipe. You will stay all night, of course, and as we have fished all the streams in the neighborhood dry by day and told about it at night we will be glad to compose ourselves and listen to the tale of the business that brings you to this ‘hole.’ Your business always has a romantic side, George, and I am sure that it must be something out of the usual to get you out of New York and away from your office, club, and cronies. Come let’s have it. Our friend Carter here is a bit interested in the law.”

“Why, it’s a deuce of a mess altogether,” said Smart, as he pulled up an easy chair and filled a long pipe. “And it concerns one of your neighbors, too, or, rather, his heirs.”

“Not old man Peters?” said Northrup.

“Yes--his estate.”

“Must have left a handsome fortune. He had no direct heirs, had he?”

“Yes, one--a burglar.”

Both listeners uttered a cry of surprise.

“A burglar his heir?” said Nick, in astonishment.

“And to a big, round sum, too,” said Northrup, with manifest surprise.

“Yes, and I cannot find the burglar or the will, now.”

“How do you know that his heir is a burglar?” asked Nick.

“Because he told me so.”

“But how do you know he made such a will?”

“Because I drew it.”

“Phew. This is a romance indeed. Tell us all about it, George.”

The lawyer settled back in his chair as if preparing for a long session. He was pleased to have aroused the interest of his auditors, and was not loath to tell the strange story. But he puffed contentedly at his pipe for a moment before proceeding, seeming to enjoy the impatience of the two men, who were leaning forward in their chairs expectantly.

“It was just a week before Mr. Peters’ death that he sent for me to draw his will,” said the lawyer finally, deciding to satisfy the curiosity of his hearers. “He had no immediate fear of death, although as you know he had been partially paralyzed for many years. The document was a very simple matter. As you say, he had no direct heirs at law, and he wished to will his entire property to a man whom he designated as Red Morgan---- Did you speak?” the lawyer asked, turning to Nick, who had uttered a suppressed exclamation.

“A sudden pain in my side. It’s nothing. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Although the will tells nothing of the history or character of the heir to this large fortune, old Mr. Peters related to me the little he knew of the man and his reasons for his singular disposition of his wealth. As you know, he was always eccentric and of firm and determined mind. After he had outlined to me the brief document that I was to draw for him I tried to dissuade him from this peculiar disposition of his property, urging that it might result in all sorts of claims being set up by all sorts of crooks and criminals.

“But he would not listen to me. ‘I have sent for you to make my will, Smart,’ he said. ‘I am of sound mind and perfectly competent. I have no near relations who have any claim on me or my posthumous generosity. The money is mine, and I purpose to do what I like with it. If you do not want to draw the will I’ll get some one who will.’ Well, there was no gainsaying him, and, of course, there was no real reason why he should not devise his property in this way if he chose. Only I could see all kinds of trouble coming to me, as I was to be the arbiter and see to it that the right man got the money, and also that the conditions of the will, which were also simple, were carried out to the letter.”

“But why did he make such a strange disposition of his property?” asked Northrup.

“I am coming to that. This is the story he told me:

“As you, and, as far as that goes, the entire countryside knows, Mr. Peters was in the habit of keeping a large sum of money in the house. He had been frequently warned that it was a bait for burglars, but in his stubborn way he paid no heed to his advisers. The money was kept in a safe in his room, and the key he always carried with him and at night slept with it under his pillow. This, of course, was little security, as after-events proved, for every one knew that ‘old man Peters always had a thousand dollars or more in his safe,’ and just as many knew that the key was to be found under his pillow at night. Just how this knowledge reached the inner circles of the criminal world is something it is hard to explain. But it did.

“Well, one night Mr. Peters, who lived alone, as you know, with an old servant, was awakened by a noise in his room. As he opened his eyes without stirring he saw the forms of two men, who had just entered by the window which opened onto the roof of a porch. The room was dimly lighted by a new moon, and, as his eyes became used to the semidarkness, he could see every movement the men made, and he was soon impressed with the remarkable fact that one of the midnight visitors was unaware of the presence of the other.

“It was a singular scene that the old man witnessed as he lay there quietly in bed watching the catlike movements of the dark forms. It would have been a trying situation for an ordinary man, but old man Peters did not have a nerve in his body, and was as brave as a lion. Had he been physically able he would undoubtedly have engaged his unbidden guests in a little rough-and-tumble fight without recking the results. But his paralyzed limbs would not permit any such demonstration, and he just lay there watching and waiting.

“He had a keen sense of humor, had Mr. Peters, and it was this that nearly cost him his life and made Thomas Danton his heir. As he watched the foremost man moving stealthily about getting his bearings, and just as stealthily followed by the crouching figure of the other, the scene--one thief dogging another--struck him as so ludicrous that he laughed outright.

“That laugh was nearly fatal. With a snarl of rage the first man sprang to the bed, and, seizing the old man by the throat, raised a gleaming knife.

“‘Curse you, take that,’ he hissed, and the knife was about to descend when the shadow sprang upon him and wrenched the weapon from his hand.

“‘We will have no murder done while I am here, Dan Flynn.’

“The first man released his grip on the old man’s throat and turned upon the man who had seized him. His surprise when he recognized him was evident.

“‘Red Morgan! What are you doing here?’

“‘The same thing you are, Dan, only I don’t intend to see any violence done an old and helpless man.’

“‘What are you doing here?’ again growled the other.

“‘On the same lay as you, Dan, only you got here first. I needed the thousand, but it’s all off now, and we’d better mosey.’

“‘And not swipe the stuff while we are here?’

“At this point old Mr. Peters took a hand in the game. He touched a button that had been conveniently arranged in the head-board of his bed, and the room was instantly flooded with light.

“‘You fool,’ said the second man, ‘don’t you see that the game is up, and we will have the household down on us in a moment?’

“They evidently had not informed themselves of the strength, or, rather, weakness, of the household. I can hear old man Peters chuckle now as he told me of the incident.

“‘If you hadn’t interfered the old man would have been a dead one now, and we could have lifted the stuff without a kick,’ said Dan, in deep disgust. He glanced scornfully at the figure on the bed, but started back in dismay.

“Mr. Peters, lying flat on his back with a grin on his drawn face, had the man covered with a revolver, which he also kept under his pillow.

“‘We will dispense with your company,’ he said to Dan. ‘By the window, if you please, so as not to arouse the household. And you,’ he said to the other, ‘will remain.’

“Dan lost no time in making his escape, while the other man sat nonchalantly down on the edge of the bed and lighted a cigarette.

“‘Well, Mr. Peters, what can I do for you--call the servants?’ he asked coolly, as he looked down the barrel of the gun.

“‘Close the window,’ chuckled Mr. Peters; ‘it is chilly here.’

“The man calmly did as directed, and then turned again to the old man, who lowered his pistol as he said:

“‘You seem to have some scruples against murder.’

“‘I have.’

“‘Sit down.’

“The burglar resumed his place on the edge of the bed.

“‘You saved my life at the possible risk of discovery as a burglar. I am not ungrateful. Here.’

“As he spoke, Mr. Peters put his hand under his pillow and drew out the little key to the safe, which he held out to the man.

“‘There’s the safe--here’s the key. There is one thousand and two dollars and thirty cents there. Take the bills and leave me the change. I shall probably feel like it in the morning,’ and the old man chuckled at his joke.

“That the burglar was astounded is drawing it lightly. He took the key, however, with alacrity, and, unlocking the safe, quickly transferred the money to his pocket.

“‘Now, sit down again,’ said Mr. Peters. ‘I think I have earned a few minutes of your valuable time.’ The man again resumed his seat without protest, although Peters had now tucked the pistol back under his pillow.

“‘Your profession is a precarious one. Why did you take it up? You were not born to be a burglar, even of the considerate class. Come, tell me all about yourself, and who you are. I have paid well for a little entertainment.’

“Then the man told him the usual story of the gentleman burglar, and with dramatic force whispered his alleged real name in the ear of old man Peters.”

Nick had listened to the story with intense interest. It fitted well into a little niche in his mind.

“And what have you done toward finding this burglar?” he asked the lawyer.

“Nothing yet. The will, as I tell you, has disappeared.”

“What were the conditions of the will to which you referred?”

“Mr. Peters had an idea that nothing would shake that this man would reform and lead an honest life. I was to locate him, and, if he had mended his ways, or if I could induce him to do so without offering the tempting bait of the fortune, I was to pay over to him the money left by old man Peters. Now I have no legal authority to act on, even if I should find the man. It is possible, of course, that Peters destroyed the will in the short time between its execution and his death, but I do not believe it.”

“Nor do I,” said Nick emphatically.

“And, certainly, no one had any interest in stealing it, even if its contents were known.”

“Can we get into the house?”

“When?”

“Now--to-night.”

“To-night?” repeated the lawyer, in surprise.

“Yes.”

“I have a key, if the old servant is not still there. But what can be done there to-night?”

“Find the will.”

Smart looked at Nick in astonishment, and then turned to Northrup with a glance that seemed to ask: “Who’s your friend?” Northrup, enjoying the situation, said with a laugh:

“I did not mention Mr. Carter’s full name, I believe, Smart. Mr. Nicholas Carter, I should have said.”

“What, the detective?”

“The same,” said Nick, with a smile.