CHAPTER XX.
AN INCORRUPTIBLE DETECTIVE.
“Ha, ha,” laughed Nick to himself. “So Mr. Lamont is playing a nice little hand. We’ll see about it,” and then he turned his attention again to the man he had in tow.
“He told you to dose me, did he?”
Caddy nodded.
“Did he say why?”
“No.”
“But he was anxious to have me drugged?”
“He seemed so.”
“Now, don’t you know where he took the girl?”
The little barkeeper of the Trocadero shook his head in a solemn manner, and Carter felt that he was in earnest.
“He hasn’t been back since?” he asked.
“No.”
The detective went to the back entrance of the place and saw where a cab had stood.
Beyond doubt this was the vehicle in which Margie Marne had disappeared with Claude Lamont, and after looking the ground over without finding an additional clew, Carter went back.
It might be hard to track the cab, as there were hundreds in the city, and under the influence of Claude’s money the drivers would not like to betray a good customer.
The detective put this and that together, and in a short time he might have been seen on the front steps of the Lamont mansion.
It was his first visit to the place, and he did not disguise himself in the least.
It was not a very fashionable hour for a call, but his ring caused the door to open and he was ushered in by a wondering maid.
“Is Mr. Lamont in?” asked the detective.
“Yes, sir, but he is indisposed.”
Sick or well, the detective had come to see the millionaire, and he was not to be cheated out of his game.
Handing the servant his card he waited in the hall, and presently she came back asking him to step into the library.
This the detective did, and in a few moments he stood face to face with Lamont.
He had seen the nabob on several occasions, but he seemed to have greatly aged in a short time and his face looked haggard and pale.
Lamont looked up at his visitor and tried to place him, but failed.
“I don’t know you,” said he, glancing down at the detective’s card, which he held in his hand.
Carter, who had taken a chair opposite the man, said in his peculiar tones:
“I am a detective. I have come here on a matter of business which may concern you.”
“I am at a loss to know how.”
“In the first place, sir, are we alone?”
“Entirely so.”
The detective, in spite of this assurance, lowered his voice.
“Whatever became of your sister, Mr. Lamont?”
There was a quick start, and the face of the millionaire got white.
“I never had a sister,” said he, with an effort.
“Make sure of that. Whatever became of her, I ask?”
Lamont looked around the room like a wild beast seeking a loophole of escape, but seeing none he came back to the detective.
“Pardon me for trying to deceive you,” said he. “That is the black spot on our family history. I had a sister once. But she is dead now.”
“Her name was——”
“Hester.”
“And you say she is dead?”
“She is.”
“When did her death take place?”
“Some twenty years ago.”
A faint smile came to the detective’s face, and for half a second he looked searchingly into Lamont’s.
“Why try to deceive me?” he said. “You know that this sister died within the last few days.”
“What’s that?” and the millionaire almost started from his chair, while his hands clutched the sides of it like a madman.
“She died by violence,” coolly continued the detective. “She was murdered—not for her money, for she hadn’t much. But she was killed all the same.”
“I can’t believe that,” cried Lamont.
“Nevertheless it is true. Mother Flintstone was your sister, Mr. Lamont.”
“That old hag? Impossible!”
“It is the truth, and, what is more, you knew it.”
“It is false!”
“Shall I prove it?” asked the detective, not in the least abating his coolness. “Shall I prove beyond cavil to you that Mother Flintstone was your sister?”
“Who are you, man or devil?” exclaimed the money king. “And what can buy your silence?”
“I have told you who I am, and nothing on earth can buy my silence.”
“You don’t want to disgrace my family?”
“I am serving justice just now, no matter who is disgraced.”
“It will kill my wife and daughter.”
“Even that event will not take me from my trail.”
“You have no heart.”
“Neither had the man who killed that old woman.”
“Who did it? Tell me that!”
“I am not quite prepared to answer, but in time I will be. I am here to tell you that the death of your ostracized sister shall be avenged, no matter whose neck the rope stretches, figuratively speaking.”
“You don’t mean to insinuate that I had a hand in the crime?”
“I make no charges. I merely called to ask if she was not your sister?”
“I’ve answered that question.”
“And you let her go to the potter’s field?”
“I did, and I would do it again under the circumstances.”
“Don’t talk to me about my having no heart, Mr. Lamont.”
“I couldn’t think of acknowledging her and having the body in my house.”
“That’s all.”
Nick arose and was watched by the man with a look like that of a tiger.
Perry Lamont seemed to bite his lips through and his eyes emitted sparks of rage.
As the detective stepped toward the door it opened and a tall and distinguished-looking young lady entered the room.
“My daughter,” said the millionaire, with a wave of his hand toward the young lady, but she did not seem to hear the words.
Already she had turned upon Carter and her hands were clenched till the nails seemed to cut the fair flesh to the palms.
“You want to disgrace us all!” she cried, as she appeared to increase an inch in stature. “You are one of those blackmailers with whom honest and wealthy people must be bothered. You want to make us trouble. But you shall not! Father shall not pay you one dollar to keep the false secret you think you have discovered. Attempt to carry out your plans and your life will not be worth the snuffing of a candle.”
Carter was astounded at these words, and he could not take his eyes from the flushed face of the girl who was really beautiful and vixenish.
“Be calm, miss,” said he. “I don’t intend to disgrace your family name. The truth never hurt anybody. I am a detective on the trail, and if that trail leads to your house, why, you should not find fault, for the dogs of justice seldom miss the scent.”
“But you just said the old creature murdered in her hovel a few nights ago was my father’s sister.”
“Ask him.”
Carter waved his hand toward the motionless man in the chair.
“Father has not been himself for some time, and to-night is not accountable for the admissions he may have made.”
Carter looked again at Perry Lamont, whose gaze had wandered to his daughter, and his hands, clasped before, had fallen apart.
At that moment he did look like a man half demented, but the detective soon returned to the tall girl.
“You shan’t ruin us,” she cried. “You shall not unite our name with that of Mother Flintstone, whose life, I am told, was anything but honest. It will be worth your life to do this.”
The look which accompanied these words told him that they were meant for a terrible threat, and the tightly shut hands of the speaker were proof that she was a fitting sister for Claude Lamont.
“We will meet again, perhaps,” said the detective. “I am going to run the guilty down. That is my present mission.”
At this moment Perry Lamont raised his head and looked at the detective.
“I’m not to be trifled with,” said he. “I can make it hot for the man who brings us down to Mother Flintstone’s level.”
“Well, you may proceed to do your worst,” was the cool answer. “You may be ‘disgraced,’ as you say, by the relationship, but this affair must not stop there.”
With this parting shot the detective put out his hand to open the door, but the white fingers of the daughter closed about his wrist.
“Beware,” she almost hissed. “I don’t know who took the old hag’s life, but you must not connect her with our family.”
The detective shook the grip off and looked again at Perry Lamont.
His head had dropped upon his breast, and his face was deathly white.
“He’s gone into one of his strange spells,” said the girl. “You see that he is almost an imbecile. At times he seems his old self, but in reality he is but a human wreck. I’ll give you ten thousand dollars to quit this ‘trail,’ as you call it.”
Ten thousand dollars!
Nick was silent and the girl took it as a sign of hesitation.
“I’ll write out the check now,” she went on. “It shall be paid any way you want it.”
The detective shook his head.
“You won’t, eh?” cried Miss Lamont.
“I’m simply Nick Carter, and he has never been in the market, miss,” was the response.
In an instant the girl’s countenance changed again from expectancy to wrath.
She opened the door and pointed into the hall.
“Take what comes!” she hissed, and with this Carter walked out.