Chapter V: Paving the Way

It was only five o’clock when Nick left the hotel, no longer in disguise, and he hastened through E Street to his destination. He found a police sergeant in the outer office, a stranger to him, as was he to the sergeant, but who politely informed him that Captain Hardy, with whom the detective was well acquainted, was in his private office.

Nick walked in without the ceremony of knocking.

A portly, full-featured man with close-cut gray hair turned from his desk to see who had entered.

“Hello, Hardy,” said Nick, approaching him. “I cannot see that you have lost an ounce since we last met.”

“Well, by thunder!” Captain Hardy sprang up and extended his hand.

“Buy herrings, Hardy, instead,” laughed Nick, while they shook hands. “You’ll get more for your money.”

“Well, well, I’m delighted to see you,” replied Hardy, placing a chair near his own. “You look like a four-time winner, Nick. Sit down. What brought you to Washington?”

“The morning limited,” smiled Nick. “I have been here only a few hours.”

“I am pleased with so early a call,” said Hardy, producing a box of cigars from his desk drawer. “But I know you too well, Carter, to flatter myself that it’s a purely social one. What can I do for you?”

“You become keen with age, Hardy, like a good blade,” said Nick, more seriously. “This is between us, mind you.”

“That goes without saying.”

“There was an assault committed here last Friday evening on Captain Casper Dillon, a retired army officer. What do you know about it?”

“Have you seen to-day’s papers?”

“That is where I got my information. I wish to know what you can add to it.”

“Nothing,” said Captain Hardy. “They tell the whole story, so far as I know, or any one else appears to know.”

“The man arrested, Tom Carney, is still in custody?”

“Yes. His case was continued until to-morrow. It will probably come up in the afternoon session.”

“Has he received any mail?”

“No, not a piece.”

“Any visitor?”

“Only his lawyer.”

“I infer from the newspaper story that Carney is a bad egg,” said Nick. “Am I right?”

“He’s a bad egg in a small way,” Hardy nodded. “He is somewhat of a ruffian and has twice been convicted of stealing. But he is not what I consider a dangerous crook. He has no great ability.”

“He may have been associated with some one who has,” said Nick suggestively.

“I cannot say about that,” was the reply. “I lately have heard very little about Carney until this affair came off.”

“Have you the disguise found on the scene of the assault?”

“Yes.”

“May I see it?”

“Certainly.”

Captain Hardy arose to bring it from the outer office.

Nick also arose and accompanied him as far as the door. When it swung open and Hardy went out, a man was passing through the outside office on his way to the street.

He was well built, well dressed, a man apparently about forty years of age. He was smooth shaved, with strong features, evincing mental power, nerve force, and bulldog tenacity. He was a man at whom one would turn for a second glance, as if impelled by some subtle magnetic emanation from the other.

Nick Carter saw him, and he saw Nick.

Their gaze met suddenly and lingered for a moment, but the face of neither changed by so much as a shadow. Nick knew this man, but he instantly suppressed any sign of recognition.

If the other knew Nick, or apprehended recognition, he had equal command of his feelings. Even the light in his keen, cold eyes underwent no change. His firm stride did not falter for an instant. He walked out to the street, stepped into an automobile, and, without a backward glance, he was rapidly driven away.

Nick resumed his seat and examined the disguise presently brought in by Captain Hardy. It was a combination beard and mustache of dark color. The lining was considerably soiled, so that a trade-mark on it was hardly discernible.

“I cannot make it out,” Hardy remarked, when Nick took a convex lens from his pocket through which to examine it. “It looks like a foreign word.”

“It is a foreign word,” said Nick. “This disguise was made in Vienna.”

“What does that signify? Anything of importance?”

“I know of nothing,” said Nick evasively, placing the disguise on the desk. “I merely wanted to see it. By the way, Hardy, did you see the man who just went through the outer office?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Who is he?”

“Some one the sergeant admitted. He has charge out there. The man was a stranger to me.”

“But not to me,” said Nick significantly.

“What do you mean? Who is he?”

“Did you ever hear of Andrew Margate, better known across the water as Andy Margate?”

“I don’t think so, Nick,” said Hardy. “What about him?”

“He is as keen, clever, and dangerous a crook as could be found on two continents,” Nick said impressively.

“The devil you say!”

“Devil is right!” Nick replied dryly. “Margate is a veritable genius for crime. He is a marvel of versatility and perverted ability. He is the one crook most feared in Europe to-day, where I supposed he was, instead of in this country. He seldom ventures over here.”

“You appear to know him very well, nevertheless,” smiled Captain Hardy.

“I have his photograph, several of them, and his criminal record,” Nick replied. “I knew him instantly, Hardy, though we never had met before. I hardly think he knew me, though I am not sure of it, for he is a type of man who would not betray it. He is said to have nerves of steel and the courage of a tiger. Have you seen him here before?”

“No, never,” said Hardy. “Is he wanted by the European police?”

“Quite likely, I think, but I have received no notice to that effect.”

“Why didn’t you arrest him on suspicion?”

“I have nothing on him, Hardy, nor any wish to get myself in wrong,” Nick evasively replied, not inclined to state his true reason for not having interfered with Margate. “Ask your sergeant what he wanted. One moment. Make no explanations. This must go no farther.”

“I understand, Nick,” nodded Captain Hardy. “Trust me to be dumb. I’ll call Foley in here.”

He turned to his desk and touched an electric bell. The summons was answered almost immediately, and the sergeant seen by Nick in the outer office entered the room.

“You rang, chief?” said he respectfully.

“Yes, sergeant,” Captain Hardy replied, turning toward him. “Who is the man who left here a few minutes ago?”

“Well, I don’t know his name, chief,” said Foley. “He brought a note from Mr. Brigham, the lawyer who is looking after Carney’s case.”

“What did the man want?”

“He only wanted to deliver a message to the prisoner from the lawyer,” Foley explained. “The lawyer could not come himself, so he sent the man with a note.”

“You allowed him to see Carney?”

“I did, sir.”

“Did you think you were taking no chances, Foley, in doing so?” Captain Hardy inquired.

“Well, sir, I thought I made sure it was all right,” said Foley, coloring.

“How so?”

“I telephoned to Brigham’s office, sir, and asked him whether he had sent the man.”

“What did Brigham say?”

“He said that he had, sir, and that it was all right,” said Foley. “So I let him go in and take the message. I would have admitted the lawyer, sir, so I supposed it was all right to admit the man he had sent.”

“Very good,” nodded Captain Hardy. “That’s all, Foley.”

The sergeant touched his cap and withdrew.

“Well, Nick, what do you say to it?”

“Who is Lawyer Brigham?” Nick inquired. “What standing has he as a lawyer?”

“Well, not the best,” smiled Hardy. “He is somewhat of a shyster, Nick, if the truth were told.”

“It may be all right, then, or it may be all wrong,” said Nick.

“What do you mean?”

“Andy Margate is, as I have said, a very keen and crafty fellow,” Nick explained. “It is probable that he is a friend of Carney and that he engaged the lawyer in his behalf. He may have paid Brigham for the letter to insure him a brief interview with Carney, or he may have fooled him into giving it with no felonious intent. It really is not material. One fact is obvious, however.”

“Namely?”

“That Margate had some communication of his own for Carney.”

“What do you advise doing, in that case?”

“Nothing, Hardy, on your part,” said Nick. “I think I see my way clear to doing all that should be done, in so far as this incident is concerned. Who is the judge before whom Carney will appear to-morrow?”

“Judge Greeley.”

“Where does he reside?”

“I will find you his address,” said Captain Hardy. “I haven’t got it in my head.”

Nick accompanied him to the outer office, where they consulted a city directory.

Twenty minutes later Nick alighted from a taxicab in front of the jurist’s residence. He found Judge Greeley at home, to whom he introduced himself, confiding the occasion for his visit and his reasons for the request he was about to make in regard to the case of Carney.

It seems needless to say that the request was readily granted, the nature of which will presently appear.