Chapter VI: How Nick Sized Up the Case

Ten o’clock the following morning found three persons seated in Harold Garland’s apartments in the Grayling--Nick Carter and his two assistants, Chick Carter and Patsy Garvan.

The murder of Father Cleary then was on every tongue. Newspapers throughout the country were describing the shocking crime under glaring headlines. It had leaked out, too, though Nick had not revealed it, that Lottie Trent had been abducted by the assassins and was in some way concerned in the crime.

The thousand tongues of rumor were never more busy. Conjectures of every description were in the air. Linked with the name of the missing girl, in circles where he was well known and his recent changed appearance had been noticed, was that of Harold Garland, and many already were whispering suspicions that he knew more than he was willing to tell.

These insinuations were given additional impulse by the fact that several newspapers were describing a man who had been noticed near the scene of the double crime, and whose actions, as reported by several observers, were of a kind to warrant suspicion. His identity had not yet been discovered by the newspapers, however, and thus matters stood at ten o’clock that morning on the second day following the murder.

“By Jove, it’s a bad mess, an awfully bad mess,” Chick Carter gravely remarked, after Nick had described the case in detail to both of his assistants.

Both had arrived in disguise at the Grayling that morning, in accord with instructions Nick had telephoned, and they had been given apartments on the same floor with those of Garland.

“Bad enough, Chick, but not nearly as bad as it might be,” Nick replied. “I have stated only the superficial facts, not what I have detected under the surface.”

“The case has redeeming features, then?”

“Decidedly.”

“How so?”

“I suspect, to begin with, that Margate’s scheme at the outset was only a colossal bluff. I don’t believe he had, nor has, photograph copies of the government plans.”

“Great Scott!” exclaimed Patsy, gazing. “He must have a nerve, chief, in that case.”

“The proof of a pudding is its eating,” Nick replied. “Whether it’s a big bluff, or not, the rascal was in a fair way to get by with it. He has brought Garland to the point of planking down the money demanded.”

“You think it a case of blackmail, then,” said Chick.

“I do.”

“But the photograph of the portfolio--he certainly must have taken that,” Chick argued.

“Very true,” Nick admitted. “It is a small photograph, however, and may have been taken with an ordinary kodak. Margate may have had a camera of that kind. He is a keen, far-sighted fellow. He may have apprehended that his designs at that time might miscarry, and that he later could work out the scheme I now suspect. Having that in view, he may have taken a photograph of the portfolio. A photograph of a big government plan with such a camera, however, would be of no earthly use.”

“That’s very true,” Chick admitted.

“Bear in mind, now, that Margate had the plans considerably less than twenty-four hours after stealing them from Dillon,” Nick continued. “It’s not reasonable to suppose that he would immediately have thought of having them photographed, nor be supplied with the necessary paraphernalia.”

“True again, Nick, as far as that goes.”

“We can safely assume, too, that he would not have dared to employ a photographer to make the negatives. The nature of the plans would have forbidden that. It’s a hundred to one, too, as I have said, that he was not provided with a camera large enough to have been of any use in making photographs of the plans, though he might have taken that of the portfolio.”

“Gee! that’s right, too, chief,” put in Patsy, who had been listening attentively. “It was not in the crib where we recovered the plans, or we should have seen it. Chick and I searched the shack from cellar to attic. Besides, they must have been photographed by daylight, and Margate had the plans only one morning, when you come right down to it. We nailed the whole gang, you remember, soon after noon.”

“Those are the very points, Patsy, on which I base my suspicions,” Nick replied. “In so serious a matter as this, however, we must not bank on suspicions only. Aside from getting the photographs, if Margate really has them, we must put that thoroughbred rascal where he belongs.”

“Didn’t Garland see the photographs during his interview with Margate?” Chick questioned.

“He saw a batch of photographs and blue prints on a table, but was so unnerved by the threatening situation that he did not examine them, taking it for granted that they were what Margate stated.”

“The more fool he,” Chick said dryly.

“I suspect that the rascal would not have let him examine them, in case my suspicions are correct,” said Nick. “I suspect, too, that the big camera Garland saw in the room was brought there only to give color to Margate’s assertions.”

“By gracious, chief, if we could find out where he got it----”

“That’s the very point, Patsy,” Nick interrupted. “He may have bought it in some store, or hired it from some photographer. You must start out this morning and follow up that thread.”

“I’ve got you.”

“You may be able to learn from whom the camera was obtained and where it was delivered. Garland has stated that it was too large for one to have carried away by hand. It may have been sent by express, or taken away in an automobile by the rascal himself. Follow up the thread, if possible, wherever it leads.”

“Trust me for that, chief,” said Patsy expressively.

“In the meantime, Chick, you must see Lottie Trent’s brother, in prison, and find out from him whether the girl is acquainted with Margate, and, if possible, where he has been living since he slipped through our fingers a month ago. If you tell Larry Trent what has befallen his sister and of what Margate is guilty, I think he will state all he knows about the rascal.”

“Very likely,” Chick agreed. “You have no doubt, I infer, that Margate is the man who killed the priest.”

“Not the slightest,” said Nick confidently.

“But for what reason?”

“Because, unless I am much mistaken, Lottie Trent has been friendly with Margate for some little time, not knowing his true name and character, nor anything about his relations with her convict brother,” Nick explained. “I think she in some way discovered, however, that Margate was plotting with confederates against Garland, and that she went to Father Cleary and confided in him.”

“Confided what?”

“One fact on which hinges the whole business and which further confirms my suspicions.”

“Namely?”

“The fact that Margate is out only to blackmail Garland, and that he has not a single photograph of the government plans.”

“But why didn’t she inform Garland himself, in that case, instead of confiding in the priest?”

“She may have had no opportunity,” Nick pointed out. “She may have made the discovery that very evening. She may have been threatened by Margate and others engaged in the scheme.”

“I see,” Chick nodded.

“She could frame up a plausible reason to visit the priest, perhaps, and take a chance that she could save Garland by doing so,” Nick went on. “This is consistent with her recent appeals to him, and she would have been eager to do him such a service. She went out to expose the whole business to Father Cleary, I think, and was probably seen and followed by Margate and his confederates. They afterward killed the priest and got away with the girl, that nothing should prevent their getting the money expected from Garland.”

“But how do you account for the letter written by the girl?”

“She was lured into writing it.”

“When?”

“That very evening, Chick, after Margate learned that she was wise to his game,” Nick continued to explain. “She probably did not know that he had discovered the fact and suspected that she might expose him.”

“I see.”

“He paved the way to further incriminate Garland, therefore, bent upon making a sure thing of bleeding him out of this money. He wrapped his hand with a bandage, pretending that he had sprained it, and got the girl to write the letter, she supposing it was for him.”

“That’s quite obvious, of course.”

“Lottie Trent probably consented, not thinking of Garland’s given name, in which the letter was addressed, nor of the covert significance of the letter. Margate did not ask her to sign it, of course, which explains why a few fragments of the bottom of the sheet could not be found where I found the others.”

“I see the point,” Chick said thoughtfully. “You may be right.”

“It is further confirmed by another bit of evidence.”

“What is that?”

“The bandage I found on the rectory veranda,” said Nick. “It bore no evidence of having been bound around a wound, or sprain. Plainly enough, nevertheless, it had been wrapped around the left hand of a man.”

“And you deduce from that?”

“Something quite suggestive,” said Nick, smiling. “I happen to know that Andy Margate is left-handed.”

“By Jove, that is doubly significant,” Chick declared. “Did you recall that when making your investigations?”

“No. Not until I talked with Senator Barclay and learned about Garland.”

“You suspect, then, that the girl was heard confiding in the priest.”

“Exactly.”

“And that she was abducted after leaving the rectory, and the priest afterward killed.”

“Precisely.”

“And that Garland was afterward lured to that locality, and this torn letter dropped in the opposite lots in order to so incriminate him, apparently, that he would be helplessly in the power of these rascals.”

“That is my theory, Chick, and I’ll bank on its being very close to the truth,” Nick nodded.

“Gee! my money goes with yours, chief,” said Patsy. “I wish I could place a real bet on it, instead of only a mental wager.”

“I think you would win,” Nick said a bit dryly.

Chick straightened up in his chair.

“Have you confided all of these points to Garland?” he asked abruptly.

“You bet I haven’t,” said Nick. “I’m taking no chance that a feeling of relief will betray, in case of his being watched, the scheme that I now have in view.”

“I thought you had something up your sleeve,” smiled Chick. “What is your scheme?”

Nick took a cigar from his pocket and lit it before replying.

“I’ll tell you,” he then said seriously. “Garland joined me here late yesterday afternoon. I had come here in disguise, providing that the house might be watched, which I have not taken the trouble to confirm, knowing it might be impossible.”

“Quite likely.”

“I talked with Garland about half an hour, merely to give my instructions. I then sent him out, wearing my garments and disguise, and he last night occupied my apartments in the Willard. He is to remain quartered there until I have cleaned up this affair. I remained here in his place, as well as in the garments belonging to him. You have observed, no doubt, that I’m wearing a new set of scenery, and that my suit case stands there in the corner.”

“Yes, I noticed both,” laughed Chick. “But what is your scheme?”

“A very simple one, though open to many possibilities,” Nick replied. “Garland has a final appointment to-night with Andy Margate. He is to be met as before, and taken to the present quarters of that archscoundrel, where he undoubtedly is established with his confederates in this job. He is expected to hand over eighty thousand dollars in return for the alleged photographs--but he will do nothing of the kind.”

“You intend----”

“Garland is about my height and build,” Nick cut in. “His cast of features resembles mine. It will require but very little artistic work with grease paints and powders to turn me into a likeness of him that will pass muster under ordinary conditions.”

“And you----”

“I mean that Garland will not keep the appointment,” said Nick, with ominous intonation. “He is to come here this evening in disguise, but only to serve me as a model. He then will return to the Willard. I shall go in his place--to meet Andy Margate.”