Originally published: 1899?
Genres: Mystery
Goodreads link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/57369401-following-a-chance-clew-or-nick-carter-s-lucky-find
Gutenberg link: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66708
Chapters: 28
Warning: This may include outdated and derogatory language and attitudes.
CHAPTER I
ON A SEPTEMBER NIGHT
“Nathan Lusker.”
Nick Carter read the sign over the jeweler’s store on Eighth Avenue and stopped to glance critically at the place.
He noticed that the “regulator” indicated midnight.
His thoughts flew back to another midnight earlier in the week when Lusker’s store had been cleaned out by burglars.
The robbery had been charged to a mysterious crook known as Doc Helstone, who was supposed to be the leader of a clever gang of lawbreakers.
Nick had been asked to break up this gang, which had baffled some of the best men of Inspector McLaughlin’s staff. A proposition had been made to him that day, and he had promised an answer on the morrow.
Probably he would have decided to refuse the job, for he had a lot of work on hand; but, as he strolled up the avenue on that September night, an adventure was waiting for him which was to alter his purpose, and set him upon the track of a remarkable scoundrel.
Lusker’s place was nearly in the middle of a block. As Nick turned his eyes away from the window, he noticed, on the street corner beyond, a group of about a dozen men and women.
There was nothing unusual about them except that they were all looking one way. Their attention had evidently been strongly attracted by something which was taking place on the side street, to the westward.
Suddenly they all hurried in that direction. Other persons, attracted by this movement, joined in it.
All whom Nick could see were hastening toward this center of interest—all, except one man, who was walking the other way.
This man came out of the street wherein the crowd was gathering and turned up the avenue. Nick saw him for only a moment, and at a considerable distance, but he remembered him.
When Nick came to the street corner, he saw, about forty yards from the avenue, a considerable crowd, upon the downtown side. He quickly made his way to the midst of it.
There he saw a young man kneeling on the sidewalk, and supporting upon his arm the head of a woman.
The man seemed considerably agitated. The woman’s face, indistinct in the dim light, was white and rigid.
“Do you know this woman?” asked Nick, quickly, of the young man, after he had cast a single glance upon the unconscious figure.
“No; I never saw her before.”
“Do you know a tall man with a light brown beard parted in the middle, a dark suit of—”
“Why, that’s the man who has gone to ring for an ambulance,” was the reply. “This lady was with him when she was taken sick.”
Nick did not wait to hear anymore. He slipped through the crowd like an eel and darted away.
He was on the track of the man whom he had seen walking away from the spot to which everybody else was hurrying.
The avenue was brightly lighted, but the man was not in sight. By rapid, clever work, Nick traced him to Forty-first Street, where he had entered a carriage.
A hackman, who had seen this, did not remember ever having seen the carriage or the driver or the passenger before.
“Was the man looking about for a carriage when you first saw him?” asked Nick.
“No; he knew where to find one,” was the reply.
“Did he give any directions to the driver?”
“He held up his hand in a queer sort of way, and the driver nodded. Nothing was said.”
Evidently, the carriage had been waiting, and the coachman and the passenger knew each other well. They would be harder to trace on that account.
For the moment Nick gave up the chase. He returned to the crowd around the unconscious woman.
She still lay where Nick had last seen her. A policeman had come and had rung for an ambulance.
The young man who had been supporting the woman’s head had relinquished his burden, and just as Nick came up he was edging away through the crowd. He seemed to desire to escape further observation.
Nick touched him on the arm, and the young man faced about.
“Don’t try to get away,” said the detective. “You won’t help matters by that.”
“Why shouldn’t I go away?”
“Because,” said Nick, calmly, “you will direct suspicion toward yourself.”
“Suspicion! Suspicion of what?”
“Murder!” replied the detective, in a low, steady voice.
This sinister word produced a tremendous effect upon the young man. But he came out of it in a way which showed he had plenty of nerve.
Nick had drawn him into a doorway, and the two were almost unobserved.
“Look here,” said the young man, “I’m no fool, and I begin to see that something is wrong here. But when it comes to murder, I don’t believe you’re right. That lady isn’t very sick.”
“She isn’t sick at all,” said Nick; “she’s wounded.”
“Wounded!”
“Yes. I saw at a glance that she was suffering from a blow with a sharp-pointed instrument. She has been stabbed, probably, with a stiletto.”
“Then it was that man—”
“Either that man or yourself,” said Nick, interrupting.
“But I swear by all that I hold sacred that I never set eyes on the woman before this evening. I was passing along the street when I saw her ahead of me.
“The man whom I described to you had just overtaken her, and they were talking. At that moment a drunken man pushed violently against me. I looked around. He lurched away.
“Then I turned toward Eighth Avenue again, and at that moment I saw the woman fall into the man’s arms, with a low cry. I didn’t see him stab her, and I didn’t see any weapon. I ran up to offer assistance, and he said: ‘This lady is ill. Take her for a moment while I summon assistance. I will ring for an ambulance. It will be the quickest way to get a doctor.’
“I took the woman out of his arms because I couldn’t let her fall on the sidewalk. He hurried away. You know the rest.
“Now, then, I maintain that you have no right to detain me. I’m going home.”
“Do you suppose that you could do so, even if I consented? I tell you that a detective has his eye on you at this moment, though you do not see him. Do you think that policeman would have been stupid enough to let you get away if he hadn’t known that somebody was on hand to look out for you?”
“And who are you?”
“I’m a man who may believe in your innocence and help you to prove it if your conduct justifies it.”
The young man looked at Nick as if he meditated making a break for liberty, but something in the detective’s glance restrained him. The stronger mind prevailed.
“What would you advise me to do?” he asked.
“Go back and stand near the policeman,” said Nick. “Be on hand when the ambulance surgeon makes his examination.
“You will be taken to the police station. When you get there tell your story as you’ve told it to me. If there’s anything else, save it till you see me again. What is your name?”
“Austin L. Reeves. I live at ninety-two West Thirty-ninth Street.”
“Very well. Here comes the ambulance.”
Though fully twenty minutes had elapsed since the woman had received the injury, her condition had not changed in the least. Nick had felt certain that the night was so warm that no harm would result from her remaining outdoors. Otherwise, he would have taken her to a drug store or into one of the houses.
The others, expecting the ambulance every minute, and failing to perceive the real nature of the woman’s trouble, had not thought of doing anything.
When the ambulance surgeon bent over her, he saw at once that she was suffering from a serious stab wound.
Not a drop of blood was visible, which showed that the weapon used must have been as fine as a needle.
The surgeon whispered a word in the ear of the policeman, who instantly whistled for assistance. Then, by Nick’s order, he placed young Reeves under arrest and took him to the station house.
The other officer who had responded to the whistle, tried to secure witnesses. He could find nobody.
Nick, a thousand times more skillful, had been engaged in that search for some minutes, but when the ambulance rolled away with the wounded woman in it, he had not succeeded in finding a single person who could throw any light upon the matter.
Apparently, nobody but Reeves had seen the woman pass along the street or had noticed the man who overtook her.
To be sure, there was the drunken man, of whom Reeves had spoken, but, accepting Reeves’ story as true, the supposed drunkard was doubtless a pal of the murderer, and was there to distract the attention of any person who might be likely to interfere.
The blinder the case the more anxious Nick was to follow it up. He saw in it one of the most fascinating murder mysteries that he had ever encountered.
It was probable that at the hospital something would be learned which would be of value, but Nick could not wait for it. There is nothing like following a trail when it is warm, and so Nick stuck to the ground.
After about an hour’s hard work, his efforts were rewarded. By this time the rumor that the case was a murder had begun to spread in the precinct.
The local detectives were out on it, and they dropped a word here and there which was taken up and borne along.
In the course of Nick’s search, he worked along the cross-town street toward Ninth Avenue, finding out what every person knew.
At last, just in the doorway of one of the large apartment houses he found a man and woman talking about the case. Both of them were known to the police.
The man was a hardened young rascal, not long out of the penitentiary. The woman was known as “Crazy Mag,” though she was not really insane.
She was somewhat intoxicated and was talking loudly. Nick entered the hall and pretended to be looking for a name on the bell rack.
“Shut up, Mag,” he heard the young tough whisper. “You’ll get yourself into trouble.”
“What’s the matter with you?” she exclaimed, roughly. “I saw the woman come out of No. 349. Why shouldn’t I say so?”
“I’ll tell you why,” said her companion. “Because that woman was put out of the way by Doc Helstone’s gang, and if you talk too much you’ll follow her.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if you were right,” said Nick to himself. “At any rate, this clue settles one thing—I take the contract to trap Doc Helstone’s gang.”
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