Chapter XXVII: Getting in One Deal Ahead

When the detective was left alone he sat for many moments turning over in his mind the story he had just heard, and in doing so he recalled a circumstance which had been dormant in his recollection for a long time.

He remembered the occasion when Mercedes’ maid, Sarah Kearney, had been interviewed by him in that same room, and he recalled the fact that he had accused her at the time of keeping back a part of her story.

The circumstances which had followed upon that occasion had developed so rapidly that he had not found it necessary to question her further, but now, in the light of certain ideas that had come to him through the story told him by Tom Morgan, he believed that he could make a shrewd guess as to what it was she had refrained from telling at that time.

By the time he had finished his cogitations it was midnight, but he had determined upon the course he intended to pursue.

He turned off the lights and ascended to his own room, where he found his assistants, who were waiting to welcome him home.

“I shall have use for all three of you in the morning,” he said. “I want all of you to remain in the house to-morrow until you hear from me, and then to report when, where and how I shall direct, with the least possible delay. Do you happen to know, Chick, if any of the Dantons are in town?”

“No; they are not. The _Oceanic_ has passed Fire Island, and Miss Mercedes, with her father and mother, are passengers. She will dock at six in the morning.”

“Good. Where is Reginald Danton?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, it is more than likely that he will be home soon after the others arrive, so it is safe to suppose that he will show up some time to-morrow, also. I don’t suppose that it occurred to you to keep tabs on the fact that Isabel Benton was liberated from the island to-day, did it?”

“No.”

“Well, I let it slip my mind, also--and we haven’t any of us an idea where her trail might be struck. We’ll have to let her slide for the present. On second thought, my lads, I think, instead of asking you all to stay in to-morrow morning, I will ask that each of you make it a point to be on the pier when the _Oceanic_ docks in the morning. You may select your own disguises so long as they are good ones. I only wish you to be there. If there is anything to do, I will tell you what it is when the time comes. The main point is to keep a watchful eye over the Dantons--father, mother and daughter--and to keep particular tabs upon everybody who addresses them or approaches them in any way. We are doing this, too, without their knowledge or consent. Now, good night. I’ll see you at the pier.”

But Nick Carter did not go to bed when he bade his assistants good night.

As soon as they had left the room he hurried with all speed into one of his favorite disguises--that of a respectable, well-to-do farmer, who was, nevertheless, so far as appearances went, thoroughly unaccustomed to the ways and manners of the city, and who carried with him an accentuated type of the peculiarities of speech and motion of a man whose life has been bounded by stone walls and rail fences.

As soon as he was dressed he hurriedly left the house, hastened to the elevated station, and in a surprisingly short time arrived at South Ferry.

He knew, without having to inquire, where he would be most likely to find a tugboat with steam up, at that hour in the morning, for it was then close upon two o’clock, and, without loss of time, he presented himself to the sleepy captain, who was dozing in his pilot-house.

“Say, yew,” he said; and the captain started into wakefulness. “Dew yew happen to know anything about a steamboat named the _Oceanic_, hey?”

“She ain’t no steamboat,” replied the captain. “She’s a tugboat, same as this, only bigger.”

“More’n ten times es big, ain’t she?” asked Nick.

“Ay, ay; more than twenty.”

“Well, that air is th’ Holstein heifer I’m a-lookin’ for.”

“She is, eh? What do you want of her? She ain’t no threshing machine. She couldn’t pull a plow or break a three-year-old steer.”

“Right you be, mister; right you be. She’s most broke me, just the same. Say!”

“Well?”

“Do yew happen to know where she is?”

“Ay, ay. Down at Quarantine.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down the bay.”

“Far?”

“Not very.”

“How much’ll yew take to git me there, hey?”

“What! Take you down on the tug?”

“Yep. That’s what I said.”

“More’n you’ve got in your clothes.”

“Mebby so. How much?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“Whe-e-w! Jeehosephat! Say, I’ll give you twenty-five.”

“You’re on.”

“Hey?”

“You’re on.”

“No I ain’t neither.”

“Well, get on then. I’ll take you there for the twenty-five, only I want to see the color of it before I cast off.”

“Yew just wait,” said Nick.

Then, deliberately he seated himself on a box on the pier, and, after removing one of his boots, took from the leg of it a roll of bills as big as his wrist.

“That’s where I carry it so’s the sharks won’t get onto my money,” he said confidentially, while he counted off one and two-dollar bills until he had enough to make up the sum of twenty-five dollars. “There yew be, capting. Now, how long will it take yeu tew git me down there?”

“About three-quarters of an hour.”

“All right. I’ll take a leetle nap. When yew git there, yew jest give this here letter over the side and say that it is to be delivered to the--now, who in blazes did he say to give the letter to? Blest ef I ain’t clean forgot.”

“Maybe it was the officer of the deck.”

“That’s it. The officer of the deck is the feller. I wasn’t told whether he was the right bower, ’r left bower, ’r only a king ’r a queen, ’r a common no account jack. Haw! haw! haw! That’s a joke, capting, an’ here’s a good cigar to pay yew for listenin’ to it so patiently. When you give that letter to the officer of the deck, yew kin jest call me from my beauty sleep ef yew don’t mind.”

The detective was sleepy as a matter of fact. He had just come down from the pure and bracing air of New Brunswick, and he had traveled all day in the cars, so that slumber was not long in coming to him, and he knew nothing more until the rough hands of the captain fell upon his shoulders.

Presently the letter was sent over the side, and then, after a wait of several moments, an officer appeared at the rail and called to the captain of the tugboat:

“Let the gentleman come aboard,” he said; whereupon the tugboat captain remarked, in an undertone to himself:

“Well, I’m----”

The last word could not be heard distinctly, but it was evidently intended to express surprise that such an out-and-out hayseed as his passenger should be received at all on board the great ship, and, particularly, that he should be referred to with so much respect. He could not know, of course, that the letter addressed to the captain was signed by Nick Carter, and was couched in such terms that the captain did not delay an instant in sending for the great detective.

“Here is where I get in one deal ahead of the conspirators,” said Nick to himself, as he mounted over the side of the ship.