A Sharper's Downfall; Or, Into the Net

“The case shall be taken up immediately,” replied Nick. “Now, as the first thing, I wish to call your attention to the fact that one of my assistants is guarding that treasure above, and I want her relieved at once. Is there no place here in which they can be placed in safety.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Sanborn, “there are safes here in which the valuables may be placed.”

Nick and his assistants superintended the transfer of the jewels from the room to the safe pointed out by Mr. Sanborn, and, having done so, Nick said to the millionaire:

“Roughly estimating, I should say that at least there is a million of value in those jewels and that plate. Your safes are not a sufficient guard for so much value. Let me urge you to take immediate measures toward a better care of them.”

With this Nick went away with Chick, Patsy and Ida for a consultation as to the best means of proceeding to unravel as strange and peculiar a mystery as they had met with in a long time.

CHAPTER XVI.

MR. ELLISON’S PAST.

“Yes,” replied Nick, “and I have been there many times. It was there that I caught Commerville, who had run to England after that big forgery of his. But I have seen, perhaps, a thousand faces in that place, first and last, and why should Ellison’s face stick out more prominently than any of the others, if there was nothing wrong in it?”

Further conversation on this head was stopped by the coming of young Mr. Sanborn, the nephew of the millionaire.

He was immediately admitted, and told Nick that his cousin, the young lady who had been married that day, had recovered consciousness, and, though weak, and much agitated, was yet very desirous of seeing him.

Her father had told her that he has committed a search into the hands of the famous detective, and had assured her that nothing that brains, skill, energy and money could accomplish would be left undone to solve the mystery of the disappearance of her newly-made husband. Learning this, the young lady was anxious to have a talk with Nick Carter as soon as she could.

To take the famous detective to her was the reason of young Mr. Sanborn’s call.

“Mr. Carter,” said the young man, “this match between my cousin and Ellison was a love match. At all events, it was so on the part of Elsie.”

“Would you have us understand,” asked Nick, “that it was not so on the part of Ellison.”

“Oh, no,” quickly responded the young man. “I did not mean to give you that impression. I have always thought that Ellison was very keen about this matter from the first time that he met Elsie, which is two years ago. But he is the typical Englishman, one of the kind that is never enthusiastic about anything, and who would take his time to turn around and see what the matter was, if a pound of dynamite was exploded at his heels.”

“Was this match approved from the beginning by the parents?” asked Nick.

“By Mrs. Sanborn, always,” replied young Sanborn. “But my uncle never liked it. His objection was only that Ellison was an Englishman, and, if not a nobleman himself, was very closely related to those moving in such circles.”

“Indeed,” continued young Sanborn, “a few deaths, three or four, and Ellison would come into a title and an estate. That he was a man of only small property did not weigh so much with uncle as the fact that Elsie would be taken to England and into a life for which she had not been trained.”

He laughed a little, and then went on:

“But the objection was not serious, for uncle has never denied Elsie anything she wanted, and she wanted Ellison very badly. So she married him.”

“Of course, if Mrs. Ellison wishes to see me,” said Nick, “I will go to her. But, before I do, I should like to ask you some questions as to things I must know, if I am to undertake this search.”

“I will answer anything I ought to,” said young Sanborn.

“In the first place, what do you know about Ellison?”

“Well,” replied Sanborn, rather doubtfully, “I know a good deal about him, and yet I don’t know much.

“I first met him four years ago in London. We were introduced by a mutual acquaintance, a young Englishman of his walk of life, who had spent some time in this country, and with whom I was well acquainted.

“I saw a good deal of Ellison in London at that time. He was very nice to me in showing me around.

“As a matter of fact, he went over to Paris with me, and, on our return, took me down with him to his relative’s place, the Earl of Kerleigh’s.

“So you see that I know there’s nothing bogus about his position. But he is one of those fellows, so reserved and so quiet, that you may say you never know him. I should say, however, that he was as straight as the majority.”

“When did you next see him?” asked Nick.

“Two years ago,” promptly replied young Sanborn. “He came over here with a shooting party, and, having written me that he was coming, and with some fellows of his kind, most of whom I knew, and that they were going into the West to shoot, I used my influence with my uncle to get up a special car to take them out there in style.

“When they arrived and found what I had done, they made me go with them.

“Returning to New York, I did the best I could to entertain them, and it was then that Ellison met Elsie.

“When the party was to start back to England, Ellison said he was going to remain here. And he did so. He has never been back since.”

“How did he support himself here?” asked Nick.

“Oh, he has an income of his own,” replied Sanborn, indifferently. “I gave him a few tips occasionally, when I had them, and he did a little in the street. Not much, for he didn’t go in very heavy. He couldn’t. He didn’t have the money.”

“What was his life here?” asked Nick.

“All right,” said the young man, “so far as I can tell. He was a member of a club or two, went into society, was well entertained, and moved around with the young men of the day.”

“Anything fast in his life?” asked Nick.

“Oh, no. He didn’t plunge any in anything.”

“Was he attentive to Miss Sanborn during all this time?” asked Nick.

“From the first. He asked her to marry him within the first year he was here, and she referred him to her father. I have told you that Uncle Harmon didn’t fancy the match, but he had a talk with the young Englishman, and, as he told me afterward, Ellison came out of the talk in a straight, manly fashion. In fact, he made a better impression on uncle in that talk than he had made before. But uncle insisted that, while they might consider themselves engaged, the wedding should not take place for a year. And so Ellison settled down in New York for that year to pass.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much in your tale to give me a hint,” said Nick. “Now let me ask you a leading question. I beg you will not evade it through any friendship for Ellison, whom you evidently like, or feeling of loyalty to your cousin. Here is a mysterious thing in which a man does the very thing you would expect him not to do, and at the very time it would be supposed that the object of his life was accomplished, defeating that object. If I am to solve this mystery, I must find the reason for it in his life prior to his marriage. It is, therefore, not idle curiosity that prompts me to ask you.

“Now, then, do you know of anything, even the slightest, irregular, mysterious or complicating circumstance in the life of Mr. Ellison?”

“Mr. Carter,” said Mr. Sanborn, “if I have asked that question of myself once to-day, since all this happened, I have asked it twenty times. And I have been unable to answer it other than that his life has been a straight, open book.”

He bent his head in thought for a moment or two and continued:

“I see your position and your point. I am earnest and sincere in what I say. If, when I can give calmer thought to this thing than I have yet been able to do, and some things occur to me that I cannot now recall, I promise you that I will come to you with them at once.”

“Very well,” said Nick, “as we seem to have exhausted the subject for the present, I will go with you to see Mrs. Ellison.”

Telling Chick, Patsy and Ida to remain until he should return, Nick went off with young Mr. Sanborn to the home of the millionaire.

Arriving, he was taken at once to the apartments of the young lady who, as he entered, was reclining upon a lounge.

She rose immediately, and, crossing the room to meet him, said:

“Dear Mr. Carter, I want you to understand from the first that I have every faith in my husband. Don’t let anybody, no matter who, make you believe that Mr. Ellison is not a good man. I wanted to say this to you in the beginning. What has occurred, or why he has done this, of course, I don’t know. But, whatever it is, it has been done because he could not help himself, not from any intention to leave me. He loves me, I know, and I know it as well as I know that I love him. I can tell you nothing to help you in your search, but I did want you to know my faith in him, and I wanted to see and talk with the man who has my faith and future in his hands. That is you. Whether life will be of any value to me will depend entirely on what you do and what you discover. And, having seen you, I know I can trust you to do all that can be done.”

The young lady had been so earnest and had worked herself up to such a degree of agitation that, at the conclusion of her words, she swooned again.

But she soon recovered, and Nick, perceiving that she was again herself, went downstairs to Mr. Sanborn’s room to have an interview with him.

CHAPTER XVII.

PATSY’S POINTER.

“Perhaps not so well,” answered Nick, “as I might know if we had made a careful search into it. But, before Mr. Sanborn consented to his daughter’s marriage, and, subsequent thereto, he had inquiries made as to the young man and how he was living, what he was doing, and he became satisfied that there was nothing wrong in it.”

“Well,” said Chick, “it goes that a man don’t disappear as Ellison did without a reason.”

“That is true,” said Ida. “Had he left at any other time, or any other place, there would not have been so much in it.”

“What is your point?” said Nick, stopping in his pacing up and down and standing before Ida.

“What I mean,” said Ida, “is this. If Mr. Ellison had been in his room, say three months ago, reading, or smoking, or passing his time away until bedtime, and had been called upon by some one who came to see him, and, going out with him, had not returned, it might have been said that he had allowed himself to drift away without strong reasons. But to leave a house under the circumstances Mr. Ellison did, within two hours after his marriage, and just as he was prepared to take his place at the reception to receive his many wedding guests, shows that there must have been reasons so strong that he dare not pass them by.”

Nick nodded his head as if agreeing with this, and Chick said:

“And crime of some kind is at the bottom of those reasons.”

Nick turned sharply on Chick and asked:

“What do you suspect?”

“I suspect nothing,” replied Chick. “I am trying to say that nothing but a crime, or, a wrong, would make a man like Ellison leave as he did.”

“The reasoning is good,” said Nick. “Let us see. The most important thing that could occur to Ellison, as we know it, is the possible succession to the title and estate of his family. Now, the Earl of Kerleigh is alive, and there are three lives between him and Ellison. Suppose, for instance, that all of those four men were on a yacht and were drowned at one and the same time. That would make Ellison the Earl of Kerleigh and change him from an unimportant person to a very important person in England; in other words, changing the whole course of his life. It is hard to conceive anything more important to occur to Ellison. Suppose that the big cape man Patsy saw, brought him that information. While it would shock and excite him, there could be no reason why he should not tell his newly-made bride and her family, even if it were necessary for him to leave on the minute.”

“And that,” said Ida, “forces us to believe that there was some wrong or some crime back of this hasty departure.”

“I say, chief,” said Patsy, “did any steamer sail to-day since twelve o’clock?”

Chick jumped for the morning paper and quickly looked at the shipping news.

“No,” he said, “no steamer left port to-day after twelve o’clock.”

“What time does the next steamer go out?” asked Nick.

“Every one that leaves to-morrow,” replied Chick, “must sail before nine in the morning.”

“You have made a good suggestion,” said Nick. “I wish, Patsy, you would take care of that end of it, and see that every steamer is properly watched to-morrow morning.”

Patsy smiled with pleasure. The chief had acknowledged that he had made the first practical suggestion in the work.

“It comes down to this,” said Nick, “we must set out upon the theory that something wrong, some crime, some misfortune, or some complication, exists in the life of Ellison that is unknown to his best friends.”

“Chief,” said Ida, “I believe that that is to be found not here in this country, but in England.”

“Since he has lived so good a life here,” said Nick, “it would seem to be so.”

The famous detective stood still a moment and said:

“I must appeal to my friend, Inspector Mostyn, of Scotland Yard, again. Chick, write a cable to Mostyn and ask him to send all information that is queer about Ellison. Tell Mostyn what family he belongs to.”

He turned to Ida and said:

“I don’t suppose there is a man in England who knows as much about the noble families and their concealed histories as Mostyn does.”

“If you are to have a starting place at all,” said Ida, “I think you will find it in what Mostyn tells you, and——”

Ida hesitated a moment, and Nick asked:

“And what?”

Ida laughed in a somewhat doubtful manner and replied:

“And I am afraid that you will find that it is something in which one of my sex is involved. I have noticed that nearly all the trouble which a sprig of the nobility gets into, is because of some woman.”

There was a tap at the door. Patsy opened it and found there a servant, who passed in a letter, with the remark that it had just been received.

It was addressed to Nick.

Handing it to Nick, the famous detective opened it and said:

“It is the same handwriting.”

“The same as what?” asked Chick.

“The same writing as the note of warning of this morning.”

Reading it, he passed it to Chick, saying:

“Read it aloud.”

Chick read:

“‘A famous judge, having a man brought before him and listening to the charge made against him, asked: “Who is the woman?” If you are wise, you will take this as a pointer for the beginning of your new case.’”

The four detectives looked at each other, and then Nick took from his pocket the letter of warning of the morning, and together they compared the handwriting of the two letters.

“It is the same,” said Nick, positively.

“It was written by the same man,” said Chick.

“It is not the writing of a man, but of a woman,” said Ida.

Nick caught the two letters, and, carrying them to the window, where the light was strong upon them, carefully examined them.

“You are right, Ida,” he said, as he returned to the table. “Though the character of the writing is heavy and masculine, yet it is clear that a female hand wrote both notes.”

Chick took them up again and carefully examined them.

“Ida,” said Chick, “while you are undoubtedly right in this, it would seem to upset your theory that we must look for the reasons of this mysterious disappearance in the life of Ellison in England, prior to his coming to this country.”

Ida took up the envelope of the last letter, and, inspecting the postmark, replied:

“Yes, since a woman is involved, as these letters show, and she is in this city now. This letter was mailed this afternoon by three o’clock.”

Nick turned with a start.

“By three o’clock?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

Ida handed him the envelope, saying:

“Look for yourself. And it was from the General Post Office.”

“Then,” said Nick, “the writer of this letter knew of the disappearance as quickly as we did.”

“It’s my guess,” said Patsy, “before.”

“You mean,” said Nick, “that she was a part of it?”

“Perhaps,” said Patsy; “anyhow, she knew it was goin’ to take place.”

“And it is my guess,” said Ida, “that the woman who wrote this letter is not the woman that Ellison is mixed up with, but is a woman who is in love with Ellison and who wants to get the other woman in trouble.”

“How in the world do you figure that out?” asked Chick.

“I don’t figure it out,” said Ida. “I’m guessing, like Patsy.”

She looked up at Nick and laughed as she continued:

“It is a guess based on my understanding of my own sex.”

“It is something to pay attention to,” said Nick, “especially in a case so dark and difficult as this is. But, Ida, if we are to guess on the probable actions of women, we could do a great deal more guessing.”

“As for instance, how?” asked Ida.

“We might guess that the woman who writes to us wishes to strike the one Ellison married to-day, and that the job put up was to prevent the marriage taking place, but that it miscarried.”

“Oh, if you’re going to guess,” said Chick, “you can guess anything, but the real thing is to find the writer of these letters as a beginning.”

“See here, chief,” said Patsy, “are not we losing sight of one thing in thinking only of this mysterious disappearance?”

“In what way?” asked Nick.

“Well,” said Patsy, “what was the start of this game, anyhow? Wasn’t it a warning that the Sanborn house was to be robbed to-day?”

“If you’re never more wrong than you are in that, Patsy,” said Chick, teasingly, “you’ll always be dead right, my laddy buck.”

“You’re getting gay, Chick,” replied Patsy. “I’ve got a notion in my think box that I know where the start is in this case.”

The three turned with interest to Patsy, and Chick, inclined to jolly Patsy, said:

“Expatiate, my brilliant statesman, expatiate.”

Patsy turned to Chick with a merry twinkle in his eye and asked:

“Did it hurt yer much to cough that up?”

“Come,” said Nick, “say what’s in you, Patsy.”

“Well, see here, chief,” Patsy went on. “You say both these letters were sent by the same person.”

“Yes.”

“Well, the woman, if it is a woman, as Ida says, was dead right, wasn’t she, when she said it was goin’ to be tried on.”

“You mean the attempt to rob the Sanborn house of the jewels, the wedding presents?” asked Nick.

“The same,” said Patsy, eagerly. “Well, it was tried on, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then the moll what wrote this letter knew all about it beforehand, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” replied Nick, smiling as he recognized that Patsy was slipping back into his east-side talk as he always did when he grew very earnest.

“Well, then,” continued Patsy, “it goes, doesn’t it, that she must know the people what was goin’ to work it?”

“Yes,” replied Nick, eagerly, for he saw Patsy was getting to a point.

“And,” went on Patsy, “the moll has given you the warning that there was a woman behind Ellison’s runnin’ away?”

“Yes.”

“And she must know who that moll is?”

“Yes.”

“And if yer could get on ter her, you’d get a line on the whole biz, wouldn’t yer?”

“Yes.”

“But the thing is, Patsy,” said Chick, “to get to the woman who wrote the letters.”

“That’s what I’m gettin’ at,” said Patsy. “The chief knows that the man Lannigan, the swell cracksman of Philly, led off in this biz of tryin’ ter nip the jewels. And it’s dollars to doughnuts that Lannigan knows the moll what writ these letters. So, Lannigan is the startin’ point ter turn the lamps onto.”

Nick brought his hands together with a resounding clap and replied:

“You’ve hit it, Patsy, and you have given us what we have been fishing for, a starting place. Now, Chick, you and Patsy start right out and see if you can’t find Lannigan, and put him and his fellows under watch. Don’t lose them until you know all they’re doing.”

Without waiting for anything else, Chick and Patsy went out.

“I fancy, Ida,” said Nick, “that there will be a good deal of work for you to do in this case. You had better go home and spend the night in getting a good rest. What you have to do will depend upon what the boys will find out to-night.”

Ida went away, and Nick busied himself with a new make-up.

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN THE TENDERLOIN.

His name was Merton, and the two, Chick and Patsy, were on good terms with him. Attracting his attention, they called him to their table, asking him to dine with them.

When he was seated, they asked him if he was on any special business.

“A very easy lay,” replied Morton. “A young fellow, from an Eastern city, who has got more money than brains, is down here on a high-pressure spree. His folks, who can’t switch him, have appealed to the department to put him under watch so that nothing bad will happen to him. That’s my lay. The chief says it’s a kind of a vacation for me.”

“Merton, did you folks have an eye to the Sanborn wedding this morning?”

“In a way,” said Merton. “When the papers put up the story about there being so much value in the presents that were given to the bride, the chief had a look over the crooks working in that line to see if they were going to do anything about it.”

“And they were not?” asked Patsy.

“No; the lads believed there was no use of trying it, because the presents would be too closely watched and they came to know that the chief was looking after them, so they steered clear away.”

“Then,” said Chick, “if any one did make the attempt, it was not local lags.”

“That’s dead certain,” said Merton. “If any one did, they were outsiders. But did any one try it on?”

“We think they did,” said Chick, cautiously.

“Well, if any one knows anything about it,” said Merton, “you ought to. You were on guard there.”

“Oh,” said Chick. “You know that, then.”

“Yes,” replied Merton. “The chief was certain that Sanborn would call Nick Carter in, for he always does that when he has got any work to be done. That’s why the chief didn’t send anybody there.”

“Well,” said Chick, “Sanborn did not call on the chief. But the chief got a tip that an effort was going to be made to nip some of those presents and warned Sanborn only this morning. That’s how we happened to be there.”

“Say,” asked Merton, suddenly, “what’s that story about the bridegroom, Ellison, disappearing? Is there anything in it?”

Chick was a little puzzled to know how to meet this direct question. It had been the hope of Nick and the Sanborn family as well, that the dismissal of the guests would be attributed to the sudden illness of the bride, and that, for a time at least, the disappearance of the groom could be concealed. So he asked:

“What do you know about it?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” said Merton. “But a friend of mine, who was there as a guest, said he heard Sanborn say something to his nephew that made him believe that it was the running away of Ellison from the house that made the bride sick. In other words, my friend thought that there had been a big quarrel somewhere and that Ellison left the house in a huff before the reception.”

This was enough to justify Chick in a denial, and he promptly made it.

“Well,” said Merton, “if there was an attempt made on the house, what gang was it?”

“The chief thinks,” said Chick, “that Lannigan tried to get inside the house, pretending to be one of your plainclothes men.”

“Lannigan? The man that Nick Carter had his hands on a little while ago and let him off with a caution. Is it possible that he can be fool enough to butt himself against the law again?”

“That’s what the chief thinks.”

“Well, I saw Lannigan on the street not an hour ago. You can find him almost any minute in the Tenderloin somewhere. Both nights that he has been about here he has had a woman with him, who is as swell as they make ’em.”

Chick turned to Patsy and said:

“You see, Patsy, my guess was right. The Tenderloin is the place to look for him.”

“Who is the woman that is traveling with him?” asked Patsy.

“She’s a stunner,” replied Merton. “She’s tall, slim, handsome, with a face white, like marble, red lips, round blue eyes, and wavy, light fluffy hair. She is dressed in the highest style. She looks to me like a lady who is trying to see the wrong side of New York without being in it.”

Chick and Patsy instantly exchanged glances.

“Are you looking after such a woman?” said Merton.

“The chief wants to know all about such a woman,” said Chick. “He fancied that she was with Lannigan, and I guess they want evidence for a divorce suit.”

“I thought Nick Carter never touched such cases,” said Merton.

“Oh,” replied Chick, carelessly, “it’s only my guess, but the work of Patsy and myself is to get on to this couple, and put them under watch.”

“Then,” said Merton, “the best thing you can do is to travel with me to-night, for, if they are here in town when the lights are lit, we’ll run against them for sure.”

Having finished their meal, the three started out on their travels.

Merton had little difficulty in finding the man over whom he had watched, but the two that Chick and Patsy were anxious to find could not be found in any part of that gay section of New York.

All places, possible and impossible, open and concealed, were visited, but no trace of Lannigan could be found. The hours passed and midnight was nearly reached when Patsy said:

“I’m afraid, Chick, that our man has got out of New York after his failure to do the work that he came here to do.”

“You mean the robbing of the Sanborn wedding presents?” said Chick.

“Yes,” said Patsy. “Very likely he has got to know that Nick Carter is on his track again, and he doesn’t want any more hot encounters with the chief.”

This had passed between Chick and Patsy as they were walking along Broadway above Thirty-fifth Street.

Suddenly Merton halted the two, and, pointing to the other side of the street, said:

“There’s your couple now.”

Looking across they saw a man and a woman, both stylishly clothed, crossing Broadway to the corner on which they stood.

The three, dropping back out of sight, watched them cross. Standing on the corner for a moment, the two seemed to discuss which way they should go, then they turned up Broadway.

Following them, the detectives learned that their destination was a restaurant whose principal business of the twenty-four hours was done after midnight.

It was the resort of the gay people of the town, and, as other places darkened, this one became brighter and gayer.

They waited on the outside long enough to make it appear that they had not followed the pair into the place.

“It was worth waiting for,” replied Chick, “and we’ll probably get a line on them before we are through with them.”

Finally, Chick said to Merton:

“We’d better go in now.”

He made the motion to lead the way up, when a young woman stepped up, and, addressing Merton, said:

“Anything for me to do to-night, Mr. Merton?”

“No, Bess, I think not. I haven’t anything on to-night of any importance.”

The girl stepped away, and Chick asked who she was.

“She is a girl,” said Merton, “who is employed by me a good deal.”

“You use her, then, in your work?”

“Yes; she’s as good as a directory. She knows everybody, who they are and what they do.”

“Fetch her back,” said Chick. “We’ll take her in, and she may be of use to us.”

Merton ran after her and brought her back. The four then entered the restaurant.

The place was already more than half full, and there was some difficulty in finding a table which was near enough to Lannigan and the woman who was with him to make observation easy and yet not be too conspicuous.

When, at last, the table was selected, it was found to be well placed for their purpose.

They not only commanded a good view of the table occupied by Lannigan and his companion, but of the whole room.

“Chick,” said Patsy, “Lannigan isn’t broke, by any means. He’s doing the swell caper. Nothing but champagne and Burgundy does him. See him mix the fizz and the red.”

“Nothing less than seven and a half for that tipple,” said Merton.

“And nothing less than birds, as well,” said the girl Merton had called Bess.

“His layout will knock spots out of a ten-dollar note,” said Patsy.

“You know who it is?” asked Bess.

“Know the man,” replied Chick; “his name is Lannigan.”

“That’s right,” said Bess.

“Do you know the woman who is with him?” asked Chick.

“No. She was never seen here until three nights ago, and she was with him then.”

“See here, Bess,” said Merton. “These two friends of mine are on the same lay that I am. They want to know all about a woman traveling with Lannigan. I don’t know why, and I ain’t asking. And you don’t want to ask why, either. But if you can help them, you’ll be helping me.”

“And the price will be the same from me,” said Chick, “as it is from Merton when you are working for him.”

“The price isn’t much,” said Bess, with a laugh. “It’s only a tenner for an evening’s work. I think I can help you, but I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“Then I’ll pay you now and take the chances,” said Chick, thrusting a ten-dollar bill into the hands of the girl.

“Whether I can help you depends whether the girl with Lannigan is known in Philadelphia, where Lannigan originally came from. A girl will come in here some time to-night who will know her, if she is known in that city. If she does, she’ll tell me.”

The little party of four then gave themselves up to the enjoyment of their supper, which had been ordered by Chick. In the meantime, the room gradually filled until all the tables were occupied; the place became redolent with tobacco smoke and gay with the chatter of voices and laughter.

As they watched the other table, they saw a man make his way through the room, and, going to Lannigan, lean over him and whisper.

Lannigan seemed to be much annoyed, but, nevertheless, he took a bill from his pocket and handed it to the man, who went out.

Patsy said to Chick:

“I flung that fellow out of the door at Sanborn’s this morning.”

“Was he the one who came with the flowers?”

“Yes. He’s the one who cried out when he saw Nick Carter.”

“He’s a New York crook,” said Merton.

“A second-story man,” said Bess.

As she said this, she jumped to her feet and began to beckon to some one who had entered the saloon.

The one to whom she was beckoning was a rather flashily dressed young woman who was of a party of three women and two young men.

“Hello!” exclaimed Merton. “There’s my man, and since he’s come in, I’m neglecting no business.”

The party found a table at the other side of the room, which had just been vacated. The girl whose attention Bess had been trying to attract, finally, seeing Bess, came over to her and Bess asked:

“Is that party very dear to you, over there?”

“Oh, no,” said the girl. “I’m only trying to make it very dear for the two willie boys in tow.”

“Are they friends of yours?” asked Bess.

“No; they’re friends of the other two girls. They just roped me in.”

“Shake them and join us,” said Bess. “I want to ask you something.”

The girl went back to the party. Apparently excusing herself, she came back and sat down at the table as requested by Bess.

“Alice,” said Bess, “look at that man and woman over on that side.”

Bess pointed out the couple the party had under observation.

“Jimmy Lannigan,” said the girl called Alice. “He’s been rolling about the Tenderloin for three nights. But he’s spending no money except on the woman that is with him.”

“Do you know who she is?”

“Yes, I do,” replied the girl Alice, with a laugh. “She comes from our old city, Bessie, and if she keeps this racket up much longer, if there won’t be a swell divorce case with fine trimmings, I’m no guesser.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Chick.

“The thing with me is,” said Alice, “why the burst hasn’t come long ago. She is the wife of a rich young fellow in Philadelphia. She is herself of a good family and she’s going with the best. Her husband is a man engaged in business and lets her go her own gait, while he is working night and day to get rich. This young woman has been sporty for two or three years; but I don’t think she’s guilty of anything worse than a keen desire to have a good time. She respects the moral code, though she goes into places which the majority of wives avoid.”

“How is it,” asked Chick, “that she’s in with such a fellow as Lannigan?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” said Alice. “I don’t know how much she knows of Lannigan. But you know Lannigan is very swell. He’s a handsome fellow, so I suppose that he’s caught her fancy.”

“She’s taking big chances,” said Patsy, “in traveling around with a fellow so well known as he is.”

“She’s taking big chances all the time,” said Alice. “The wonder is that she hasn’t been dropped to. Up to two or three months ago she was traveling around in all sorts of places with a young Englishman. But then he was one of her kind.”

“You mean,” said Merton, “that he moved in her circle of fashionable life.”

“Yes,” said Alice, “and there was a lot of talk about her in her own circle then. I had a friend who was one of the young sports in that circle who told me all about it. This young Englishman had her out on a yacht for a week, and her husband never knew anything about it.”

“Not alone?” asked Merton.

“Oh, no,” said Alice, “there was quite a party.”

“When was this?” asked Patsy.

“Let me see,” said Alice. “I can get pretty close to the time. It was last September.”

“Do you know the name of the young Englishman?”

“No, I’ve forgotten it if I ever heard of it. Anyhow, he was here in New York and used to run over to Philadelphia to see her.”

“What is her name?”

“Ladew. Her husband’s name is Thomas. That won’t be her name long,” continued Alice, with a laugh, “if she let’s Jimmy Lannigan show her around New York very often. She’s taking chances I wouldn’t dare to take, if I were in her place.”

It seemed to Chick and Patsy as if they had secured all the information which they were likely to obtain at that time.

Bess looked at Chick meaningly, as if to ask if he had gotten all he wanted, and Chick nodded in reply.

The conversation was then changed, and Chick gave the signal to Merton that he would like to get out.

Merton took the lead and the party rose.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHICK’S STRANGE ENCOUNTER.

Patsy turned to Chick and Merton, who had been conversing while he had thus been watching the couple, thinking that strange sights were to be seen in the Tenderloin late at night.

Chick, slipping his arm under Patsy’s, now led him to the sidewalk, and the two turned down Broadway.

“Well, Patsy,” said Chick. “I don’t know how much we have gained to-night, but I take it that it is a good deal.”

“Do you think,” asked Patsy, as they walked along, “that the young Englishman, the girl Alice talked of, was our man Ellison?”

“That notion has got into my head,” said Chick. “And if it is so, it will be a big opening for us. We’ve got a way of finding out, however, and that is, by finding if Ellison was on a yachting trip last September.”

“And,” added Patsy, “whether he was in the habit of running over to Philadelphia much.”

“That’s so,” said Chick, “I don’t think there is any use of following up Lannigan and the woman, Ladew.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Patsy. “We might stumble on their associates if we did.”

“Well,” said Chick, “if that is so, we had better go back and watch the front of that place to see them come out.”

They had walked along as they had thus talked and had, therefore, gotten something like two blocks below.

Chick turned about, suddenly, saying:

“You’re right about that, Patsy, and we won’t drop them until we see where they go.”

They walked back hastily until they reached the corner on which Patsy had seen the couple that had attracted his attention.

Here they heard a voice calling some one, and, turning to look, saw a woman beckoning to them from a hansom cab drawn up to the sidewalk.

Although she was in the shadow of the cab, Patsy thought that it was the one whom he had been watching while at the restaurant door, and who he had seen put on a wig.

They went to the cab, and the woman, addressing Chick, said to him:

“I want to speak with you a moment, and alone.”

Hearing this, Patsy stepped aside and Chick went up closer.

“I know who you are,” said the woman.

“But I don’t know who you are,” answered Chick.

“It is not necessary that you should,” replied the woman, “and, as a matter of fact, I don’t intend that you shall.”

Chick looked up at her quickly and saw that the woman was earnest in her manner, by no means coquettish or trifling. He said:

“What is it you want to say to me?”

“I know that you are one of the assistants of Nick Carter,” the woman said. “Your name is Chick, and I know that you are looking for Mr. Ellison, who disappeared so suddenly from the Sanborn house to-day.”

Chick thought rapidly, and concluded that more was to be gained in admitting the fact than in denying it.

“Won’t you enter this cab and talk with me?” said the young woman.

Giving a signal to Patsy which meant that Patsy was to follow wherever he went, Chick called out, loudly:

“Good-night, old boy, I’ll see you some time to-morrow.”

He climbed into the cab and took the seat as the young woman made way for him.

Patsy turned after calling back a good-night and walked hastily up the street until he reached a dark doorway into which he quickly dodged, from which point he watched the cab.

“Tell the driver,” said the young woman, “to drive away from here.”

“Where?” asked Chick.

“Anywhere, so that we will not be so conspicuous.”

Chick told the driver to cross Broadway and, driving to Sixth Avenue, to go down that avenue until the Herald Building was reached.

Having done this, he asked the young woman what was the meaning of her movements.

“I want you to tell me,” she said, “whether you have found anything about the whereabouts of Mr. Ellison.”

“No,” replied Chick, “we have only just begun the search.”

“Do you know why he so suddenly disappeared?”

“No,” replied Chick, “if we did, we would not be long in finding where he is.”

“You will find it difficult to find him. You are following up the Ladew woman for that purpose.”

Chick turned to look at the woman, but her head was turned away, as if she was in deep thought. She continued:

“I don’t think you will find much in following her up. He has broken with her.”

“Then he knew her and was in relation with her?” asked Chick.

“It was only a foolish flirtation on his part,” said the young woman, and Chick noticed that there was a great deal of bitterness in her tone.

She paused for a moment or two, and then went on:

“The Ladew woman is an eccentric person, and she followed him up so that he could not get away from her. But he had to break when his marriage with Miss Sanborn approached; there was a great row.”

By this time Chick was much puzzled to know what relation this woman bore to Ellison and what her interest in the matter was. The question entered his mind as to whether or not this was not the woman who had written to Nick the two letters which had so excited their curiosity.

He knew from what she had said in the beginning that it was useless to ask who she was, or what her name was, but he determined upon a sudden and bold play.

“Who were you trying to strike,” he asked, “when you wrote those two letters to-day to my chief, Nick Carter?”

The young woman started violently, turning to Chick in a frightened manner.

“What do you mean by that? What letters?”

“The letters which warned the chief that an attempt would be made to rob the Sanborns and that a woman was at the bottom of Ellison’s disappearance.”

“How do you know that I wrote them?”

The question was almost gasped out.

“I don’t know,” replied Chick, “but I do know that the chief knows who wrote them.”

“Does he know me?”

“The chief knows everything,” replied Chick. “No sooner had he received those letters than he started to find out who wrote them.”

“And he found out?”

“Of course he did.”

“And it was me?”

The woman suddenly laughed a mocking laugh, and Chick knew that whether the woman had written the letters or not, his play had not counted.

“If you knew as much as all that,” she said, “you would know who I am, and that’s what you don’t know.”

To this Chick could make no reply, for he felt that though her first fright indicated that she was indeed the woman who had written the letters, she had now regained possession of herself and that it was useless for him to hope to surprise her into an admission. He took another tack.

“What interest have you got in this matter?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t anybody be interested in so mysterious a thing as happened at the Sanborns?”

Again she laughed mockingly at Chick.

“How did you come to know me?” asked Chick.

“Are you not a celebrated person, and doesn’t everybody know Chickering Carter, the great Nick Carter’s chief assistant?”

Chick knew now that the young woman was playing with him, and that he did not have easy game before him.

“No,” he said, “I am not so celebrated in the circles in which you move that you would know me.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked the young woman.

“I mean that you saw me for the first time to-day, and that it was at the Sanborn house where I was on duty and you were there as a guest.”

By the way the young woman took this reply, Chick knew that he had scored a point, but did not know how much of a one it was.

“Did you see me there?” she asked.

“Not that I recollect,” replied Chick. “Perhaps it is very wrong for me that I should have failed to observe so charming a person as yourself.”

“None of that, please,” sharply returned the young woman.

She was silent a moment, and then said:

“Yes, I was there, and one of the few who knew that Mr. Ellison left the house.”

Chick started. It suddenly broke on him that the person beside him was one of the bridesmaids, and yet he could not be certain.

While he was thinking this over, she asked:

“Do you know how Mr. Ellison left the house?”

Again Chick thought rapidly, and concluded that he would gain more by answering the question straightly.

“We think,” he said, “that he left concealed by a great cape coat that had been worn into the house by another man, and that he had a wig and beard on to resemble that man.”

“Who was that man?”

“We don’t know.”

“He was left in the house after Mr. Ellison went out. Was he not seen?”

“No, he escaped from the house by a back window into the back yard, and so into the cross street.”

“What sort of a man was he?”

“A man with a pointed, glossy black beard, black eyes, heavy black eyebrows and long black hair, curling a little at the ends.”

The young woman was thoughtful for a moment or two, sitting with her finger to her lips, which she bit nervously, while her brows were knitted.

Chick broke in on her thoughts.

“Was this man connected with the robbery or the attempt to rob?”

“I don’t think so,” said the young woman; “that was another part of it.”

“You mean,” asked Chick, “that the robbery was connected with Mr. Ellison’s disappearance?”

“Oh, no,” said the young woman. “The robbery was a consequence of Mr. Ellison’s knowing certain people——”

She started suddenly, and, facing Chick, said:

“You’re clever. You nearly trapped me. I will confess to you that I wrote both those letters. I learned by accident of this robbing attempt, and tried to stop it by informing Mr. Carter.”

“That’s what you said,” said Chick. “You did stop it.”

“I know nothing of those people,” she said, “except that, through a certain connection, they were attempting to use Mr. Ellison.”

“Do you want Mr. Ellison found?” suddenly asked Chick.

“Yes. I am——”

She stopped and, looking Chick keenly in the eyes, said:

“I will talk no more to-night. I was anxious to know what you have told me. I do not know enough to tell you anything more of importance. I may learn something, and, if I do, I will manage to make Mr. Carter know it. Now, get out, and let me go away.”

Believing that he could accomplish no more, and certain that Patsy was not far away, Chick descended from the carriage, lifted his hat, and walked away.

The hansom cab, containing the young woman, immediately went over to Broadway and, turning up that street, was driven quite rapidly.

But it had not gone the space of a block when another cab drove after it, and Chick saw a hand wave from the window.

Jumping across the street, Chick found a cab on the corner, and, hastily calling the driver, said:

“Follow that cab, and don’t lose sight of it. If you kill your horse, I’ll pay for it.”

And an instant later, and as the clock over the Herald office sounded the hour of two, he was following in hot haste the cab containing Patsy, which, in turn, was following the one occupied by the young woman.