After Nick had talked over the case with Chick and Ida, he had sent Chick to the house in Seventeenth Street to take stock of it and to make inquiries.
“Chick,” he had said, “I don’t think you will learn much, for I fancy the house has been abandoned by these people. However, you may learn something in looking it up.”
He then went to his house, to find a caller awaiting him. Nick looked at the card, but did not recognize the name. It was Richard F. Mountain.
He sent for the caller to come to his own room.
Mr. Mountain was one who showed in his movements that he was a man of business, and accustomed to affairs.
“Are we alone, Mr. Carter?” he added, on entering. “What I have to say is strictly confidential.”
“We cannot be overheard here,” replied Nick.
“Then the next question is, can I rely upon you to take my case?”
“I never decide to take a case until I hear the story,” said Nick, “but whatever confidence you give me will be respected.”
“It’s a case of attempted blackmail,” replied Mr. Mountain.
“The Brown Robin?” asked Nick.
Mr. Mountain stared a moment before he replied:
“Yes, that name has cropped up in the case.”
“Then I take your case,” said Nick, “for I am already engaged. Go on with the story.”
“I am an insurance agent and real estate broker,” said Mr. Mountain, plunging at once into his story, “and frequently have sums of money in my hands for investment belonging to other people. My reputation is good and my standing high.
“Some time ago I was caught in a speculation in which I had ventured rather recklessly. I reached a point where, unless I could put up a very considerable sum, I was likely to lose all I had ventured—lose everything.
“In this strait I used the money of an estate I was managing, and saved myself for that time. It was wrong and was something that people did not believe I would be guilty of.
“After I had passed this money out of my hands an accounting was suddenly and unexpectedly demanded of me. I was in a corner, likely to be exposed and ruined. The facts were not suspected, however, and a day or two intervened. I tried to extricate myself, but could not.
“In my distress I determined on suicide, and drew up a statement which was a confession, placing it in my desk, to be found when my death was announced.
“On the day I had fixed for my death—the day of accounting, I was given a respite by a postponement for one week.
“During that week the speculation I was engaged inwas brought to an unexpected and successful conclusion and realization. I was in funds again—in fact, a rich man.
“During the few days left me before the accounting, I was so busy in preparing for it and buying back securities that I had used, that the confession passed from my mind.
“After I had passed through the accounting triumphantly, I looked for it. It was gone. I searched and inquired, but without success.
“For a long time it worried me greatly, but as time went on and nothing came of it, I began to think that I must have destroyed it and forgotten I had done so.
“But yesterday a copy of it was presented to me, and I was told that I could have the copy and the original for fifty thousand dollars.
“I temporized and put off further negotiations until to-morrow. Now, that is the whole story. And, Mr. Carter, I am here to say that I will not pay the sum. I will not be blackmailed. I don’t want to be exposed, either; I do not want the disgrace that would follow. My business would be ruined. That is a small matter in one way, for I am a wealthy man, but I do not want to lose the respect and confidence I enjoy.
“In my whole business life I have made this one false step. But, all the same, I will not be blackmailed.
“Now, with handing you this letter, received this morning, I have stated my case.”
He took a letter from his pocket and handed it to Nick.At a glance Nick recognized the paper and the handwriting. It read:
“Mr. Richard F. Mountain: Contrary to my custom, I gave you two days to comply with my demands. Then I thought you asked for time to gather the money required. Reviewing our talk, I see now that you made no promise. I have been lax. I shall not be again. To-morrow you must be prepared to comply. I shall call you to a place to pay the money. Be prompt in your coming. But heed this. Do not call in the services of Nick Carter. Do not talk to him at all.“The Brown Robin.”
“Mr. Richard F. Mountain: Contrary to my custom, I gave you two days to comply with my demands. Then I thought you asked for time to gather the money required. Reviewing our talk, I see now that you made no promise. I have been lax. I shall not be again. To-morrow you must be prepared to comply. I shall call you to a place to pay the money. Be prompt in your coming. But heed this. Do not call in the services of Nick Carter. Do not talk to him at all.
“The Brown Robin.”
Holding the letter in his hand, Nick asked:
“How was this demand made?”
“By a young man who called on me at my office yesterday afternoon.”
“What name did he give?”
“None. He approached when I was engaged with some people I was doing business with, merely saying:
“This is a copy, but important enough to demand your immediate attention.”
“I read it, of course, and, getting up from my seat, took him aside, demanding to know what was wanted.
“His answer was that he was acting for another person, who wanted fifty thousand dollars for the original. Situated as I was, surrounded by people who were at the time placing financial trust in me, I could do nothing but fight for delay and postponement.”
“I see,” said Nick. “Now, have you any idea who this young man was?”
“No.”
“Nor who it is he says he represents?”
“No knowledge.”
“Do you suspect any one?”
“Well, I hardly know how to reply. I had a typewriter—a young woman in my employ, who left me suddenly just before I missed that paper. Time and time again my mind has gone back to her in suspicion with nothing to support it. Her name was Alberta Curtis.”
“Have you heard of her since she left you?”
“In a way, immediately after her disappearance. She was a Southern girl of a good but impoverished family. She eloped with a married man. That was the cause of her leaving me. I heard of it from her family, who cast her off for the act.”
“With whom did she elope?”
“I only know his name—Charles Stymer.”
Just then Patsy came in, and Nick sent for him.
“This is Patsy Murphy, Mr. Mountain,” said Nick. “One of my most trusted aids. I want to question him on some business he has on hand.”
Turning to Patsy, he asked:
“Did you follow your man?”
“Yes. He gave me a chase, too.”
“Did you get close to him—close enough to know what he looks like?”
“I had a talk with him.”
“Describe him to me?”
Patsy gave an elaborate description of the man that had figured before him both as George Vernon and Harold Stanton.
As Patsy talked, Nick, closely watching Mr. Mountain, saw him show signs of increasing excitement, until he finally burst out:
“Why, he is describing the very man who called on me yesterday.”
“Then,” said Nick, with a smile, “the Brown Robin is both a man and a woman.”
“I do not understand you,” said Mr. Mountain.
“Probably not,” said Nick. “I am not far enough in the case to understand it myself. We are already engaged on one case of blackmail in which the Brown Robin figures as a woman. Now you give us one in which it figures as a man.
“The Brown Robin has given a good deal of trouble in Chicago, Boston and Philadelphia without being detected.
“It has just begun operations in New York. I imagine your case is the first one of its operations, and the other we have the second.
“Whether it is a he or a she, or a gang, it is bold, audacious and skillful, working in a new way.”
“By the way, chief,” asked Patsy, “have you received another letter from the Brown Robin?”
“Yes; why do you ask?”
“Because this fellow I followed sent you one.”
Nick picked a letter from the table and handed it to Patsy. It read:
“My Dear Uncle: Really, you are much better than I supposed. It is worth while working against you. You’re not easy, but keep me at work. What a dance you gave me this morning. And your Patsy is a regular laloo. He ran me down and cornered me this morning. If he had dared to arrest me he would have done so, but he had no right to do that, so, of course, he didn’t. I slipped away from him only by accident. The above is only by the way. I write to say that you are not serving Papa Cary well. Drop him for his own sake. Even if you do stop him from giving me more, I’ll ruin him. That is my rule. His safety is in submitting to me.“The Brown Robin.”
“My Dear Uncle: Really, you are much better than I supposed. It is worth while working against you. You’re not easy, but keep me at work. What a dance you gave me this morning. And your Patsy is a regular laloo. He ran me down and cornered me this morning. If he had dared to arrest me he would have done so, but he had no right to do that, so, of course, he didn’t. I slipped away from him only by accident. The above is only by the way. I write to say that you are not serving Papa Cary well. Drop him for his own sake. Even if you do stop him from giving me more, I’ll ruin him. That is my rule. His safety is in submitting to me.
“The Brown Robin.”
Patsy folded the letter, and handed it back to Nick, saying:
“He wrote another to the other.”
“Who?”
Patsy wrote the name of Alpheus Cary on a slip of paper, handing it to Nick.
“Ah! I must know what it said,” said Nick, as he glanced at it.
Turning to Mr. Mountain, Nick said:
“One of the peculiar features of this affair is the frequent and impudent letters that are written to me.
“Until you came with your story, I was at a loss to understandthe reason of them. I do now. Your case is the big one. While it is being worked the Brown Robin would have us think that the other case is the only one it is working on.
“It is quite ingenious and a new way of working. Leaving a trail open on the second, they will carefully make those to the first blind.
“Now, Mr. Mountain, return to your office. Another aid of mine will call on you as soon as he can. His sole business will be to study your appearance. Give him every opportunity.
“If you receive another letter, let him have it. If you receive a notice from the Brown Robin to go to any particular place, tell him of it. That I must know of at the earliest moment.
“Now, Patsy, Chick is over somewhere in Seventeenth Street. Find him and send him to Mr. Mountain’s office. Now get away, please, both of you, for I must go out.”
Mr. Mountain returned to his office, feeling a weight off his shoulders, since the celebrated Nick Carter had the case in hand.
Patsy hurried off to find Chick.
Nick himself made his way to the Zetler Bank to find Mr. Cary almost in a state of collapse.
A messenger had brought him a letter from the Brown Robin.
It read:
“Dear Papa Cary: Your little present of last night only went a little way. I want more for some expenses I have. You must be at the corner of Fourth Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street this afternoon at five o’clock. Be prompt, now, because there will be some one there to bring you to me. And bring some money. A nice good lot. Don’t fail, if you do——“The Brown Robin.”
“Dear Papa Cary: Your little present of last night only went a little way. I want more for some expenses I have. You must be at the corner of Fourth Avenue and Twenty-eighth Street this afternoon at five o’clock. Be prompt, now, because there will be some one there to bring you to me. And bring some money. A nice good lot. Don’t fail, if you do——
“The Brown Robin.”
When Nick had read this letter, Mr. Cary handed him a photograph which he said had been brought in but a short time before, carefully wrapped up.
Nick saw that it was one taken by flashlight. It showed a woman sitting on Mr. Cary’s knee, her arms about his neck, his face showing plainly.
Nick thought it was about as compromising a picture as a respectable elderly gentleman of family could be tortured with, and one of which clearly no explanation could be given to offset or contradict the story it told. He studied the woman’s face, or so much as she showed. There was art in the way it was shown, yet concealed.
“Tear it up and burn it,” he said. “You must not have it lying about your desk.”
And while Mr. Cary was engaged in the work of destroying the damaging photograph, Nick was busily thinking.
Finally he asked:
“Have you nerve enough to keep this engagement with the Brown Robin and carry her another hundred dollars?”
Against this Mr. Alpheus Cary protested warmly, declaringthat he never again would voluntarily see the woman.
But Nick’s persuasive powers must have been great, for shortly after four o’clock Mr. Cary was seen to leave the bank, and had he been followed, it would have been seen that his way was up Fourth Avenue.
As the hour of five approached, an elderly gentleman who would have been recognized by any of the directors of the Zetler Bank as Mr. Alpheus Cary, its president, could be seen on the corner of Twenty-eighth Street and Fourth Avenue.
He was looking in every direction, and peering into the face of every man who approached him, exhibiting a nervousness and an anxiety which showed that he regarded his mission at that place as everything but pleasant.
Frequently he took out his handkerchief and mopped his face; altogether, he made himself rather conspicuous on the corner.
Finally, as five o’clock was reached, a young man Patsy would have recognized as the one who went to sleep in the hotel after writing two letters, came up from some unknown place, for Mr. Alpheus Cary thought he sprang from the earth.
“Mr. Cary, I believe,” said this young man, addressing the elderly gentleman.
“That is my name,” replied Mr. Cary, nervously.
“I thought that I recognized you,” said the young man.
“Are you the one——”
But he was interrupted.
“How is the market to-day, Mr. Cary?” asked the youngman. “My eye has been off the tape to-day, and I am carrying a lot of U. P.”
Could any one have been close enough, they would have seen that while the young man was asking this question, and others, and receiving nervous and embarrassed answers to them, he was closely watching the elderly man.
If Mr. Cary had been a sharp detective, he would have thought that these sharp looks meant something, but as he was not, of course, he apparently did not observe them.
Finally the young man said:
“Are you prepared to follow me?”
“Why, yes; that is why I am here, I suppose. Are you the one who was to meet me here?”
“Mr. Cary, are you acting in good faith?”
“Why, yes, what do you mean?”
“Did you come here alone?”
“Entirely so.”
“Did any one know of your coming here besides yourself?”
“Not a single person.”
“Will you give your word that Nick Carter is not in concealment here to see us go off together and to follow us?”
“I will swear that I am here alone; that neither Nick Carter nor any one else is in concealment here to follow us.”
“Very good; I’ll take your word for it. But let me tell you that if you have deceived me in any way, that you will be punished in a way that you will not like.”
“I have not deceived you. No one is with me, and no one could suspect that I was to be here.”
“Come along, then.”
The young man led Mr. Cary down Twenty-eighth Street to Lexington Avenue, and, turning the corner, hurried him into a nearby doorway.
“I do not disbelieve you, Mr. Cary, but I am going to be satisfied.”
They stood there a while. Evidently satisfied that they were not followed, he motioned for Mr. Cary to follow him.
Their way now was to a rather plain house at the other end of the block.
Reaching it, they mounted the steps, the young man tapping at the door. It was opened immediately, and the young man motioned for Mr. Cary to enter.
Then he followed, closing the door after him.
“Enter the parlor, Mr. Cary,” he said, “and I will call the one you came to see.”
He disappeared, running up the stairs.
Mr. Cary had a long time to think over the wisdom or unwisdom of his step in again putting himself in the power of the woman who had, the night previous, played him such a scurvy trick.
For one who wanted to see him so badly as she had written, the Brown Robin was slow in making her appearance.
By and by, however, there was a movement on thestairs, in the hall, and Mr. Cary anxiously waiting, heard the Brown Robin’s voice saying, rather commandingly:
“You will be here promptly at nine in the morning?”
The voice of the young man who had brought him to the house was heard in reply.
“Yes, my sister; but you will not see me until that time.”
The other door opened and closed with a bang.
Mr. Cary grinned on hearing this. But whether in satisfaction of the departure of the young man, or in pleased anticipation of atête-à-têtewith the Brown Robin, did not appear.
His face, however, was perfectly composed when the Brown Robin, very cool and elegant in appearance, entered the parlor.
“How good of you, Papa Cary, to come and see me again,” she cried. “You may kiss me.”
She offered her cheek to Mr. Cary, who hesitated a moment and then, as if he could not resist the temptation, awkwardly kissed her, to her great amusement.
She sat down opposite him, saying:
“I was afraid that you would be angry with me for playing that trick on you.”
“Then you mean to give me back that money?” said Mr. Cary.
“Oh, dear no,” she cried. “I couldn’t do that. You see, I have spent all that money. We had to move this morning, and then my brother, Harold, had some debts that I had to pay. New York is an awfully expensiveplace, and I want money. You have brought me some, haven’t you?”
“I should suppose your husband would supply your needs?” said Mr. Cary. “When does he reach here from Chicago?”
“I hope not soon, Papa Cary, for then I would have to stop seeing you. And I mean to see a good deal of you. Do you know what I am going to do this afternoon? I am going to give you a nice dinner. You gave me a nice one yesterday. Only you’ll pay for this one, just as you did for the one yesterday. That is, if you have brought me some money. Have you?”
“Have I?” asked Mr. Cary. “Well, yes, I have brought you some. Here is a hundred dollars.”
He handed the roll to her.
“Only a hundred,” she said, as she took it. “That is not handsome, Papa Cary. I thought it would be five times as much. But I’ll take this, and you will have to give me more money five times as often, if you only give it in such little bits.”
“I’ll give you a good deal more if you will do something for me I want you to.”
“What is that?”
“Give me that photograph plate and the pictures you have had printed.”
The Brown Robin laid her shapely head back on the cushions of her chair and laughed long and heartily. Then she said:
“Oh, that poor little trick! You want to bargain with me, Papa Cary. Now, what will you give for them?”
“What would you have the heart to demand?”
“Well, Papa Cary, I have such a soft heart that I am afraid I must let you put the figure on them.”
“I will give you a thousand dollars for them.”
“Have you the money here?”
“No. I have no more than I gave you. But I would give it on delivery of the plate and pictures.”
“And do you think I would give up the pleasure of seeing you for a thousand dollars?”
“That isn’t the question.”
“Oh, yes it is. Don’t you see that it is owing to my having those pictures that you are here to-day? If I hadn’t them, you wouldn’t be here now, would you?”
“Yes, I think I should, if you had sent for me to come.”
The Brown Robin threw her head to one side and eyed the elderly gentleman shrewdly for a while.
“I am afraid you are fibbing, Papa Cary,” she said. “And I am getting afraid of you, too. I fear instead of being a respectable, elderly gentleman, ready to give aid and protection to unprotected females, you are a gay old dog.
“No, I can’t sell that pretty picture for a thousand dollars. It’s too cheap. It cost me too much pains to get it. And then, how do I know but that you will take it to your club, show it around to other gay old dogs, as your last conquest?”
Mr. Cary grinned delightedly over being called a gay old dog, but shook his head and protested with his hands.
“But come,” said the Brown Robin, as a servant entered from the rear. “Come to dinner all by our two selves.”
She led the way, and Mr. Cary followed into a rear room, where a dinner table was laid.
The dinner was a good one, and Mr. Cary evidently enjoyed it, for he ate heartily, getting quite gay over it.
Of wine, however, he was sparing in use, though urged often to drink.
When the dinner was over Mr. Cary renewed his efforts to get the photographic plate, but the Brown Robin was not to be cajoled into a bargain.
She evaded in every way coming to close quarters, laughing and joking.
Finally she put an end to it all by saying that she must go out, and that Papa Cary could accompany her a part of the way.
She went to the upper part of the house, and while she was gone Mr. Cary seemed to show a most inexcusable curiosity as to the room he was left in and what it contained, for he examined everything in it, picking up a few things which he put in his pocket.
When the Brown Robin returned she was dressed for the street.
“Am I pretty enough to walk with you?” she asked.
“I don’t know in which costume you are the prettiest,”replied Mr. Cary, “but there is a strange thing,” he continued. “I do not yet know your name.”
“You shall call me Mrs. Clymer,” she said, as she led him out of the door.
She walked with him up Lexington Avenue as far as Thirtieth Street, into which street she turned, going toward Fourth Avenue. She stopped before a certain house and looked at its front carefully.
“Let us go in here,” she said.
“What for?”
“To look at it. It is empty. One of those furnished houses to rent. I like to look at them.”
Mr. Cary followed her up the stoop. The door was opened by a caretaker who had seen them ascend the steps. Mrs. Clymer, if that was her name, was contented with looking at the parlors.
She went out, and, walking up to Fourth Avenue, turned to the south, Mr. Cary obediently following her.
At Twenty-third Street she turned the corner, going to a real estate office, where she entered into conversation with the broker. Mr. Cary, meantime, looked out of the window into the street.
If he had known them, he would have recognized in the two men standing on the pavement near the door, Chick and Patsy.
But the Brown Robin called him to her, saying:
“I must have twenty-five dollars. I want to pay it to this man.”
“I haven’t that amount with me,” replied Mr. Cary.
“Give me your check, then.”
“Oh, I can’t do that. But wait a minute. I can get the money.”
He hurried out, going quickly to the corner. Here he stopped, sounding a signal. Chick and Patsy, hearing it, went quickly to the corner.
As they came up, Mr. Cary said:
“Follow when I come out of the real estate office.”
He went back, handing to the Brown Robin twenty-five dollars.
Finishing her business, she went out, followed by Mr. Cary. On the sidewalk she said:
“Now, Papa Cary, you must leave me. But you must come promptly when I send for you. Perhaps it will be to-morrow. Our fun is only beginning.”
She asked Mr. Cary to stop a Lexington Avenue car for her and got aboard it when it came, bidding the elderly gentleman good-by at the car, very sweetly.
Mr. Cary, regaining the sidewalk, turned the corner, walking down Fourth Avenue to Twenty-second Street.
There he stopped, waiting for Chick and Patsy to come apace, and, when they did, he said:
“I want to get this makeup off as soon as I can.”
“It’s a pity to take it off,” said Patsy. “It’s great.”
“Boys,” said the elderly gentleman, “that woman is the Brown Robin.”
“The devil!” exclaimed Patsy.
“I am the only detective, or police officer, that has everspoken to the Brown Robin, knowing it to be her. I have her measure.”
“Why didn’t you nab her, then, chief?” asked Chick.
“Because she has worked the Cary matter so skillfully that I could not convict her. I want to get her foul on the Mountain case. But the Brown Robin is a woman.”
“Then who the devil is Harold Stanton?” asked Patsy.
“I’ll tell you that later. There are others, and we must capture them. But come with me.”
They hurried to a neighboring hotel, where the Alpheus Cary who had dined with the Brown Robin quickly came out as Nick Carter, the famous detective.
After he had removed his disguise, Nick said to his two aids:
“The Cary case will give us little trouble after this. I shall probably continue to play his part in it, but it will amount to little more than shelling out some money. She thinks she has captured him.
“She is a wonderfully clever woman, and is using the Cary incident merely as a cover to the big strike on Mountain.
“Now, Chick, tell me what you found in Seventeenth Street?”
“That the house was empty; that it had been occupied but two or three days; that the rent had been paid for a month; but possession has not been given up.”
“Do you know who rented it?”
“A woman who gave the name of Mrs. Stanton.”
“Hum! I fancy that she has rented another house this evening, the one in Thirtieth Street. In my way of thinking, that house is to be the scene of the strike on Mountain.
“That is a job for you, Patsy,” continued Nick. “Watch that house from early to-morrow morning and settle who goes in and all about it. Nothing will be done there to-night.
“I must go to Cary’s club and quiet him for the night. He is nearly in a collapse. How about Mountain, Chick?”
“I saw him. He is game, chief. Nothing came for him from the Brown Robin up to the time of his leaving his office. He will not yield. He is going to the theatre to-night.”
“Do you know where?”
“Yes; at the Empire.”
“Ah, ha! Be in the neighborhood, boys, and keep him under watch if you can. He is quite as likely to get his notice there as anywhere.”
Nick went home satisfied that if there was any movement made that night, it would be only in the way he indicated.
“A lady is waiting to see you in the parlor, Nick,” said Edith, as he entered.
“Who is it?”
“She would give no name,” replied Edith. “She is young, pretty, and has asked me a lot of questions about you.”
“Of course you gave me a good character,” laughed Nick.
“I told the truth about you, and you can guess what it was, for I won’t tell you,” laughed Edith, in reply. “But hurry and get rid of her, for I want you to go out a ways with me.”
Nick went to the parlor.
No man ever had a greater control of his features thanthe famous detective. He always maintained his self-control under the most trying circumstances. He had more than once looked certain death in the face without blinking.
But he had as narrow an escape from betraying himself as he ever met with, when, on opening the parlor door, he saw the Brown Robin occupying one of his sofas.
The shock was momentary and not observed by the other.
Nick crossed the room, bowing before his visitor, gravely, and said:
“I am Mr. Carter, madam.”
The Brown Robin arose from her seat and looked most keenly and curiously into his face. Nick would have been dull indeed, if he had not also seen the look of admiration that grew on the face of his visitor.
But it did not affect him. Indeed he was just then striving to guess what the game of the Brown Robin was in seeking him at his own home.
“I should be much pleased, Mr. Carter,” said the Brown Robin, “if you would listen to what I have to say and give me your advice.”
“I certainly will listen to you,” replied Nick, “but as to the advice I cannot tell yet. But, be seated and begin.”
The Brown Robin sat down, and, taking from her pocket a letter, she said:
“If you will read that it will be a good beginning.”
She handed it to him, and at a glance Nick saw that itwas one of the kind with which now he was familiar. He read it:
“Mrs. Ansel: I have named my figures. I have only this to say further: If the money is not at the place to be mentioned, and at the time, your letters will be in the hands of your husband in the evening.“The Brown Robin.”
“Mrs. Ansel: I have named my figures. I have only this to say further: If the money is not at the place to be mentioned, and at the time, your letters will be in the hands of your husband in the evening.
“The Brown Robin.”
Nick handed the letter back and waited for the Brown Robin to speak. Apparently she was much embarrassed, and Nick, studying her, thought she was an admirable actress.
Finally she burst out:
“You are not at all sympathetic, Mr. Carter. Cannot you help me by asking questions?”
Nick smiled. Her acting pleased him, it was so good.
“I presume I can,” he said. “I suppose this is a case of blackmail.”
“Horrid blackmail.”
“What are the letters referred to?”
“Mine, written before I was married.”
“Why, then, should you fear to have your husband see them?”
“Well, they are compromising—that is, some of them—that is, in a way. They were written while I was engaged to the one who is now my husband, to a man of whom my husband is now and always has been desperately jealous.”
“Who is this Brown Robin?”
“Don’t you know?”
“I was asking if you knew.”
“I only know that it is a name under which some one is making my life miserable. Who and what is the Brown Robin?”
“A blackmailer, evidently. I have heard of the name as used by a person in various cities, and latterly in New York.”
“Is it a man or a woman?”
“The Brown Robin, I should judge, is a name used by a man and a woman, working together.”
A faint smile flitted over the face of the lady.
There was a moment’s silence. Then Nick asked:
“How did these letters get into the possession of the Brown Robin?”
“They were stolen from Mr. Collins.”
“The man to whom they were written?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“By the Brown Robin, I suppose.”
“How much money does she want?”
“One thousand dollars.”
“And you cannot pay it?”
“I have no more money than my husband gives me, and he would find it difficult to raise so large a sum.”
“Now, then, what is it you wish from me?”
“Well, what am I to do?”
“I think I should say that it is simply impossible—that you would find it difficult to raise a thousand cents. Convincethese people of your inability to raise the money, and, as a rule, they drop the thing. It is the hope of getting money that makes them hold on.”
“But cannot you give me some way of getting back those letters?”
“Frankly, Mrs. Ansel, for that I take to be your name,” said Nick, “I don’t think the game is worth the candle.
“If I were in your place, I should take a detective of the regular force with me to the appointed place, and when the blackmailer appeared, put him, or her, or them, under arrest. They would give up the letters to be released.”
“Wouldn’t you go with me?”
Immediately Nick thought he saw through the purpose of the call. It was the audacious effort of which he had spoken to Edith, of leading him into a compromising trap.
It did not anger him, for he rather admired the boldness and audacity of it.
However, his first impulse was to refuse, but his second thought was to see it out. He said:
“I am a very busy man just now, and cannot control my time. What is the hour of this meeting, and where is it to be?”
“The hour is eleven to-morrow, but I am to be informed early to-morrow morning of the place.”
“Very well, I will go with you, if you inform me early enough.”
The Brown Robin arose, apparently much pleased with the success of her visit, and shortly after left.
Nick went back to Edith, telling her to prepare herself for her walk and saying that he wanted to go in the neighborhood of the Festus Club, for a moment’s word with one of his clients.
When she came back, ready for her walk, she asked:
“Who was your caller, Nick?”
“The Brown Robin.”
“Nick! You don’t mean that that pretty woman is the Brown Robin?”
“No doubt of it!”
“How do you know?”
“I called on the Brown Robin to-day, disguised as Alpheus Cary.”
“And she had the audacity to come and see you, knowing you are retained to expose her?”
“Boldness and audacity are her weapons.”
“What did she want?”
“She pretended that she was a Mrs. Ansel, who was being blackmailed by the Brown Robin.”
“She came to measure you, Nick, to size you up, as you call it.”
“Perhaps that was her game. She has never seen me, I suppose. But, Edith, I think she was laying the trap of which I spoke this morning.”
“How?”
“She wanted me to accompany her as Mrs. Ansel to meet the Brown Robin and compel the giving up of the letters.”
“Ah! and you do not walk into the trap.”
“But I will. Something of value may come out of it. I will escape it, never fear. Chick and Patsy will not be far off, I can tell you.”
Edith made no reply. Quite evidently she did not like it, but she knew it was useless to combat Nick when he had made up his mind.
So she held her peace and went out for her walk with him.
During their walk they stopped at the door of the Festus Club, where Nick told Mr. Cary that he had his case so well in hand that the old gentleman could go home and sleep in comfort.
When Nick had left Chick and Patsy at the hotel, where he had taken off the disguise of Mr. Cary, the two young detectives discussed their own details for the night.
“We’re to keep a watch over Mountain,” said Chick.
“He seems able to watch over himself,” replied Patsy.
“Oh, he’s able enough,” said Chick. “It isn’t that. The chief wants to know the moment he gets the word from the Brown Robin. He believes that the Brown Robin will show up to-night.”
“Then we must be on,” said Patsy. “It’s up to us to decorate the lobby of the Empire with our beauty. Say, Chick, it’s the old story. We’ve swung about the Tenderloin so much lately that too many know us.”
“And we’ll have to look different. Well, Patsy, let’s swing out as swell Willie boys.”
Patsy laughed heartily, pounding the pillar against which he had been leaning.
“A sweet Willie boy you’ll make Chick,” he said, after a while, “with those broad shoulders of yours. No, no, Chick. Do your own act. Swing out as a regular swell.”
Chick looked at his watch, and said:
“It is nearly time to rig, then. But come with me first. I want to look over that Seventeenth Street house again. Though the people in the neighborhood say the folks whowere in it for three days have left it, I’ve a notion it’s still in the game.”
The two moved off in the direction of the house in question, and had reached the corner of Twenty-third Street and Lexington Avenue on their way, when a young man in a blue flannel shirt and a coil of wire about his shoulder, stopped Chick and asked:
“Ain’t you Chickering Carter?”
“Yes,” replied Chick, eying the young man keenly.
“Well, say,” said the young man, “it’s up to me to tell you something. Say, I’ve been chewing on it all day, and just as soon as I was cleaned up I was going to hunt up Nick Carter and give it away, if it did fling me out of a job.”
“Can you tell me?” asked Chick.
“That’s what I hollered whoa on you for. You’ll do just as well.”
“Step aside, then,” said Chick.
Chick led the way to a place near the corner, where they could talk unobserved, followed by both Patsy and the young man.
“Now, then, what is it?” asked Chick
“I’ve been dead wrong,” said the young man, “and I’m going to square it, even if you fling me over to the company. It’s this way. I’m lineman for the telephone company. See?
“I know all about Nick Carter, and you, and Patsy and Ida. See? Well, I was working on the line up by Ida’shouse this morning, where a break had been reported, and I had to go on to the top of a house right by hers.
“Well, I found a wire had been rung in on it, and I followed it to see that it run over the gutter and to a window on the third floor. See?
“I went down to that room, and there was a young woman, and she was a peach, all smiles. See?
“‘You’ve found it,’ she says, ‘and caught me. Now don’t give me away, ’cause there’s nothing in it. I was only trying to get on to my best feller.’ See?
“Anyhow, she give me the great jolly and I went in up to my neck. I was soft as butter. When she flung up a fiver at me, hanged if I didn’t do what she wanted, and fixed the wire to an old ’phone she had in the room.
“She jollied me into it. See? After I got away from her, I began to think, and the more I thought the more wrong it was to me, and I saw what mush I’d been in the hands of a pretty woman.
“So, after I’d been thinking an hour, I went back to unfix it. Say! Just as I got to her door I heard her say: ‘All right, chief, this is Ida.’ Then I took a big tumble. I listened and heard her say over what the one at the other end had been saying, something about ‘Herman Hartwig’ and ‘Passen.’ She had got on to Nick Carter’s talk and was a crook playing Ida.
“I took a sneak up to the roof, cut the leak wire, and switched the other over so that the crook couldn’t get at it again.
“That’s all there is of it. I’ve squared it with you, and,if you want to, you can report me to the company and get me sacked. I won’t squeal.”
“Well,” cried Chick, “I wouldn’t do that, anyway. And now that you’ve squared yourself this way, I wouldn’t think of it.
“It was the chief she was talking with over the wire, but there wasn’t any harm done, for he dropped right away that it wasn’t Ida on the other end, and gave the other a throw-off. He cut the connections with his own ’phone.
“If you want to square it right with the chief, go to his place to-morrow morning and put the connections on. I’ll see him to-night and square you with him.”
The young man, expressing satisfaction with this arrangement, went off, after shaking hands with both Chick and Patsy.
But he had gotten no farther than the corner when he stopped short, peered forward eagerly, and came back to the young detectives on a run.
“Say,” he cried. “Come. The young woman is going down the av’noo. Sure, it’s her.”
“Who?” asked Patsy.
“The one who worked me on the wires.”
The two followed quickly to the corner, where the man pointed out a woman moving along at a brisk gait down Lexington Avenue.
“Come on, Patsy,” cried Chick.
The young man evidently thought he was in it, too, for he followed after.