“I care not when or how, Belle, so long as it’s done.”
“Trust me to do it, then.”
“Do you require any help?”
“I should say not!” exclaimed the girl quickly. “When I tackle anything of this kind, I play a lone hand. I want no partner who some day may squeal. It’ll be all or nothing for me.”
Nothing could have suited Godard better, for he was essentially a coward, and the simple thought of meeting Nick Carter in a life or death encounter sent chills up and down his spine.
“I shall require one thing, however,” said Belle.
“What is that?”
“This house must be vacated and all the stuff removed. Then I must have the key of this house, also of the one next door.”
“Flood’s old place?”
“Yes.”
“What sort of a job are you cooking up?” growled Godard suspiciously.
“That’s my business, Nate,” returned the girl. “I shall do it in my own way, or not at all.”
Godard saw that she meant it, and he had no idea of letting her offer slip by.
“I’ll vacate the house this very day,” said he promptly.“I’ll move our stuff down to the shore house, and open a game there on the quiet. That will throw the cops off my track for a time.”
“Very good.”
“When will you do the job?”
“As soon as I can arrange to have it come right,” replied Belle thoughtfully. “Not this week, however. I have engagements for two evenings with that yellow-haired Dakota chap, whom I caught on to at the Waldorf last week. He has money to burn, barrels of it, and I must get my little bit.”
“Why the deuce haven’t you run him up against my game?” demanded Godard.
“He never plays, Nate,” said Belle quickly. “I tried it, on my word I did. But he doesn’t know one card from another. He says he has an uncle out West, however, a big cattle ranchman, who is a fiend at faro.”
“H’m! I wish he’d wire his uncle to come on here. I reckon we could trim him.”
“I don’t think he’d consent to do that, Nate,” laughed the girl, upon whose spirits the murderous project she had in mind seemed to cast no cloud. “You vacate here to-day and give me the keys to both houses. Then leave Nick Carter to me. Within a week I will turn him down, or my name is not Belle Braddon.”
“You shall have the keys not later than Friday, Belle.”
“That’s soon enough,” nodded the girl, rising. “Meantime, Nate, I must devote myself to bleeding that yellow-haired baby from Dakota. He’s as loose as ashes with his dust, Nate, and I’ll give him credit for that.”
“Then I guess you’ll bleed him all right.”
“If I don’t, Nate, there’ll be something wrong with the cards,” said Belle, with a ringing laugh. “So long, old chap! I have an appointment with him at noon. A hot bird and a cool bottle, you know, and then a ride in the park. But you go ahead, Nate, with the moving. I’ll have my little job on old Nick all framed up in time, never doubt that.”
“Well, sir, I’m here, as I agreed!”
“That’s right, my good man, and I’m glad to see you. Take a chair.”
The last speaker was Nick Carter.
The first was the whilom cuekeeper in the gambling-house of Moses Flood—the latter’s humpback friend, John Green.
The scene was Nick Carter’s office, on the Mondayafternoon following the interview between Godard and Belle Braddon, in which the latter had contracted to turn Nick Carter’s toes up.
The interval was five days.
In compliance with Nick’s genial invitation, the humpback took a seat near the detective’s desk.
“Well,” said Nick, “what has become of Godard since he closed his up-town house?”
Green laughed.
“He’s down at a shore house which he owns. Here’s the address, sir, and the direction for getting there. I wrote it down, thinking you might want it.”
Nick glanced at the scrawl on the slip of paper tendered him, and bowed approvingly.
“Is he dealing a game down there?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. A small one, though, only for a few friends.”
“Are you still keeping cues for him?”
“I am.”
“And who is his assistant dealer?”
“Tom Bruce, sir.”
“Flood’s former man?”
“The same, sir,” nodded Green. Then he added, sadly: “’Fore Heaven, sir, I’d give all my life is worth to know that Mr. Flood is all right, safe, and sound!”
“I have already told you, John, that I will insure that, providing you follow my instructions to the letter.”
“Oh, I’ll do that, Detective Carter, never doubt it!” cried Green eagerly. “I’d cut off both these hands for Mr. Flood!”
“Now tell me,” said Nick, “what is the game doing?”
“Losing, sir; losing to beat the band. Godard has dropped nearly a hundred thousand in the past month.”
“Can he stand the pace long?” inquired Nick carelessly.
“Sure, sir, I’d not have believed he could stand it till now!”
Nick already knew where Godard had probably obtained the money mentioned.
“Is he still drinking deeply?”
“Like a fish, sir,” grinned the humpback; “and, holy smoke! he’s uglier than ten devils.”
Nick laughed and nodded, evidently much pleased by the report.
“Is he dealing a square game?” he next inquired.
“Sure, sir!” cried Green. “I don’t believe Godard has got the tools for dealing a brace game.”
“You think he would do it, John, if he had the tools and saw a good thing?”
“Well, sir,” and Green grimly shook his ungainlyhead, “I reckon Nate Godard would do anything for money.”
“I guess that’s right,” said Nick. “Now, John, there’s one thing I wish you to do for me.”
“Count on me, sir, for sure!”
“If Godard was to deal a brace game he would have to tell you about it, wouldn’t he?”
“Yes, sir; so I could keep the cues right. I’d have to mark up the cards he took crooked, you see, or there’d be a holler from the players at the end of the deal, when the cues showed wrong.”
“I know all about it, John.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, hark you, my man! If Godard contemplates dealing a brace game he will first prepare the way by giving you his instructions and secret signs.”
“No doubt of it, sir.”
“Well, John, if he does that I want you to drop me a letter by the very next mail saying that the trick is to be turned. Do you understand?”
“Sure I do!” exclaimed the humpback; “and I’ll send the letter the minute I know of it.”
“Very good,” bowed Nick. “That’s all to-day, John. In leaving here be as cautious as usual. You must not be seen, you know!”
“Trust me, sir,” smiled Green, with a shrug. “I will slip out and away like a shadow. You’re sure, sir, about poor Mr. Flood?” he added, as he lingered for a moment at the door.
“Trust me for that, John, as I trust you,” replied Nick.
And the detective bowed and smiled pleasantly, with a genuine appreciation of the warm and loyal heart that beat in the crooked breast of the departing man.
This interview with the humpback plainly indicates the shrewd line of work which Nick was secretly doing in his attempt to verify the suspicious by which he was actuated.
Green had been gone but a few minutes, moreover, when a second man familiarly entered.
He was a stylishly clad, yellow-haired chap, with a sandy beard, parted down the middle. He carried a cane, sported a bright-red tie, and looked for all the world as if he had just stepped off a fashion-plate.
It was the yellow-haired chap whom Belle Braddon had boasted of having caught on to at the Waldorf.
Nick looked up and smiled when he entered.
“Well, Chick,” said he, “what’s now in the wind?”
Chick laughed and dropped into a chair.
“Nothing special, Nick,” said he. “All is working well.”
“She has no suspicions of you?”
“Not the slightest, Nick.”
“What do you make of her?”
“Well,” replied Chick, with a grin, “she’s a royal spender, I’ll give her credit for that. She makes bank-notes fly like dead leaves in a September gale.”
“Never mind,” laughed Nick. “Let ’em go. We’ll get them back from Gilsey. Besides, Chick, the situation will not last much longer. We are closing in on them.”
“You have learned something?”
“Green has just been here and reported,” nodded Nick. “Godard is located at his shore house. I know the place and how to get there. He is dealing a game there on the quiet, and I have several reasons for thinking that he is nearly on his last legs, financially.”
“In which case, Nick, he will take any desperate chances to recover, eh?”
“That’s the idea, Chick, and it’s what I have been working for. Have you said anything to his niece about the cattle-dealer?”
“Sure thing,” nodded Chick. “I have laid that wire all right, you may wager. I showed her a telegramyesterday, which I claimed to have received from my Dakota uncle, stating that he would join me here Tuesday.”
“That’s to-morrow.”
“I told her that he is coming on merely for pleasure, and have impressed her with the idea that he is the highest kind of a high-roller. She wanted to know if he ever played faro, and I told her he was a regular fiend at it, and that I had seen him sit to lose a hundred thousand at a crack.”
“Very good,” laughed Nick. “That certainly ought to be strong enough. What did she say to that?”
“She said she knew a house where he could make a play,” grinned Chick.
“Oh, ho! that looks promising enough,” laughed Nick.
“I told her that would suit him to the letter, and that he would be glad to give any square faro-game a play,” added Chick. “She said she would fix it for us after he arrived.”
“And we will fix them, in return, I’m thinking,” said Nick grimly. “Green is going to notify me if a brace game is to be attempted. I’m dead sure it will be, too, with Godard so nearly on his uppers.”
“No doubt of it.”
“In which case, Chick, it’s a hundred to one that hewill use Flood’s brace deal box, and resort to the same deck of strippers that Flood gave Kendall with the money he had won. If we can catch Godard with that deck of strippers in his possession, Chick, it will prove conclusively that he murdered Kendall.”
“Absolutely.”
“He necessarily must take Green into his confidence about the brace game,” added Nick; “and he will get rid of Tom Bruce when attempting to turn the trick. We shall probably meet nobody there but Green and Godard, except that jade of a niece.”
“She will probably take us out there, Nick.”
“We’ll go with her, all right,” laughed Nick. “You had better fix it with her for to-morrow night, in order that we may wind up the case as soon as possible.”
“That will be easy,” nodded Chick. “I shall find her ready.”
“I will show up at the Waldorf to-morrow noon and join you there,” added Nick. “I will have a roll of money with me fit to choke a horse. Trust Godard to venture a most desperate chance to get it. I think, Chick, we now have the game well in hand.”
“So do I, Nick,” replied Chick, rising. “I’m going to slip up-stairs and have a bath, then I must go backto the Waldorf. I promised to dine with my friend with the red-brown hair at six.”
Nick laughed, nodding approvingly, and Chick hastened from the office.
It was then about three o’clock. At four Nick had business up-town, and he presently put on his street attire and left the house.
A quarter of an hour later, as he was crossing Forty-second Street and Fifth Avenue, he was observed by a young woman on the opposite corner.
The moment she saw him, moreover, a gleam of malicious satisfaction flashed in her evil eyes.
She tripped quickly over the opposite crossing and intercepted Nick as he reached the Fifth Avenue sidewalk.
The young woman was Belle Braddon, out for the great detective’s scalp.
Nick Carter suppressed any show of surprise upon beholding Belle Braddon approaching. He halted, politely raising his hat, upon observing that the girl intendedto speak to him, and they met on the Fifth Avenue corner.
Belle greeted him with a smile and a pretty toss of her well-poised head, saying glibly:
“How-dy do, Mr. Carter? You haven’t been round to call on me, sir, and play that game of ping-pong.”
“True; I haven’t,” replied Nick, rather inclined to laugh at her piquant audacity.
“How many invitations do you require?”
“Well, I can hardly say.”
“I generally have to ask a man but once,” pouted Belle, with a playful shrug of her shoulders. “I guess you don’t enjoy the game.”
“Well, to tell the truth, Miss Braddon, ping-pong is not my long suit,” laughed Nick.
The girl joined in his laugh, saying dryly:
“Dear me, you really can be amusing, can’t you?”
“Yes, when I try.”
“Try often, Detective Carter. It’s awfully becoming. By the way, sir, there’s a question I’d like to ask you.”
“Certainly,” bowed Nick; “understand, however, that I may not feel called upon to answer it.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t refuse a lady. I’m sure you wouldn’t.”
“Well, since you feel so sure, Miss Braddon, go ahead with your question.”
Belle drew nearer to him, and said, with a rather sinister gleam in her lifted eyes:
“Why did you take such pains to have me fired out of my job at the Milmore Trust?”
Nick already began to suspect her of having some design that had not yet appeared on the surface, and he decided to learn of what it consisted by leading her on a little.
“It strikes me, my dear girl,” said he, smiling, “that that is a needless question.”
“Why needless, my dear Mr. Carter?” queried Belle, in bantering tones.
“Because you already know why I did it.”
“I do?”
“Yes,” nodded Nick. “Think it all over and it will probably come to you.”
“Oh, you did it because I told Flood about Kendall’s shortage, did you?”
“Precisely.”
“Well, I rather suspected it was that, Mr. Carter.”
“Why, then, did you ask?”
“Only to make sure, sir,” laughed Belle. “A woman’s usual reason, eh? Ah, well! have no fear, Mr. Carter;I bear you no ill will for having done so. Really, I rather like you for it, for it’s awfully pleasant to be out of a job,” and the smiling jade playfully beat Nick’s arm with one of her gloves.
Then she quickly added pointedly:
“But I’ve got it in for Mr. Flood, sir, just the same.”
“That so?” queried Nick. “For what?”
“Because he betrayed that I told you. Oh, you wouldn’t deny it, Mr. Carter. I know well enough that he did!”
“I never attempt to disabuse a woman who already knows,” laughed Nick, wondering when she would come to the point.
Belle Braddon came to it, all right, in less than a minute.
“Yes, sir; I’ve got in for him, Mr. Carter, and some day I’ll get even with him. By the way, sir, the central office sleuths are having a fine hunt after him, aren’t they?”
“A vain one, certainly,” replied Nick.
“If they hadn’t been so hot after my Uncle Nate of late, I’d get even with Flood by making them wise as to his hiding place,” declared the girl, with affected bitterness.
Then, before Nick could reply, she quickly added, as if struck with a clever idea:
“Oh, I say, Mr. Carter! Just to show you that I bear you no ill will, and, in fact, rather fancy you, I’ll throw Flood into your hands, if you’d like to get them on him for that murder out in Fordham.”
Nick heard her without a change of countenance. He knew that she was absolutely ignorant of Flood’s whereabouts, who at that moment was in Nick’s residence; also, that she could have no knowledge of the latter’s relations with Flood.
Yet no man could have wanted better evidence that the girl had some design which she was craftily plotting to execute.
It was characteristic of Nick at any sign of danger to go after it, until he discovered of what it consisted. In this case, therefore, he decided to give Belle Braddon all the rope she wanted, or until he could learn at what she was driving.
Nick was too shrewd, however, to take the bait too greedily. Pretending to be entirely ignorant of Flood’s movements, he said curiously:
“Why do you think that I wish to lay hands on him?”
“You are still in Gilsey’s employ, aren’t you?”
“Well, yes; I’ll admit that I am.”
“Then, of course, you want Flood,” cried Belle bluntly. “What’s the use of denying it?”
Nick no longer did so, it now being very obvious that the girl had some object in view and cared not how she accomplished it.
“I did not deny it. In fact, I really would like to land him,” said he, with sinister eagerness. “Do you mean to tell me that you know where he is located?”
Belle winked and nodded.
“On the level?” demanded Nick.
“Sure.”
“Where is he?”
“Hiding in a house that I know all about.”
“What price will you take for the information?”
“What will you give?”
“Five hundred.”
“Done!” said Belle promptly.
“When can we turn the trick?”
“At once.”
“That suits me,” said Nick.
“There are two conditions on which I shall insist, however,” added Belle.
“Namely?”
“You must be governed by my directions.”
“I will.”
“And let me be present when you arrest him.”
“You shall be there.”
“I merely want him to know that I have got even with him,” Belle bitterly declared, in explanation.
“It’s dead lucky that she doesn’t know what I know of Flood,” thought Nick, a little puzzled as to her game.
“Come on, then,” she said. “I’ll take you into the room now occupied by Moses Flood within a quarter of an hour.”
Nick accompanied her, and they started up Fifth Avenue.
Belle Braddon was as bold as she was crafty, and she felt sure of landing her man single-handed.
The trick she was about to turn, moreover, was well worthy of her.
She took Nick to Godard’s vacant house, of which she had the key, and they entered together.
Then Nick became more watchful. The empty rooms and bare floors did not surprise him, for he knew that Godard had moved; but there was a possibility of being assailed by hidden foes, and Nick slipped his revolver into his side pocket, unobserved.
He was, too, more than ever mystified. Knowing that Belle Braddon could not possibly give him any clue to Flood, he could not imagine what design existed underher pretensions. He was resolved to learn, however—let come what might.
“Come up-stairs,” said Belle, after locking the street door. “This is a roundabout way, but it wouldn’t have done to enter Flood’s house direct.”
“Are you going in there?”
“Yes,” nodded Belle. “That’s where we shall find him. He has a secret hiding-place in there. Tread lightly on these bare floors lest the sound reaches and alarms him. Both houses are vacant, and he should be alone there at this hour.”
“Good enough,” growled Nick quietly; “I’m with you.”
“Into this room, Detective Carter!”
Nick followed her into one of the side chambers, and the girl turned briefly to face him.
“Now be very quiet,” she said softly, without the slightest sign of nervousness or apprehension. “I’m going to let you into one of the secrets of these two houses. As a matter of fact, Detective Carter, both of them are owned by Moses Flood. But my uncle, who was employed by him, has been occupying this one.”
Nick smiled and nodded.
“In this room,” continued Belle, “there is a concealed door, operated by pressing one of the figures in thewall decoration. It opens into a passage leading through another door into Flood’s private room.”
Nick instantly recalled Flood’s escape from Detective Gerry, and again he nodded understandingly.
“The passage was constructed,” added Belle, “for the purpose of quickly getting the gambling implements out of Flood’s house and into this one in case of an unexpected raid by the police.”
“I see.”
“The door is very cleverly constructed, you observe, so that the police could not discover it and light upon the trick.”
“I can see no indications of a door,” said Nick truthfully.
“I’ll show you,” whispered Belle. “But be quiet after the passage is opened, for Flood might then overhear us. He has a hiding-place in the other house and there we shall find him.”
“Good for you!”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
Belle Braddon turned and pressed her hand on the wall.
Instantly a heavy iron door, decorated like the wallto which it was most cleverly matched, swung quickly open.
A four-foot passage was revealed, brick walled on two sides. At the farther end of it, some five feet away, a similar iron door had swung open, and beyond it was Flood’s private room, which Nick immediately recalled.
Belle Braddon raised her finger warningly, and led the way into the passage.
Nick followed her, wondering what he might expect in the adjoining house.
When both were in the passage Belle turned back and paused, whispering softly:
“Draw that door after you, please! Close it quietly.”
Nick turned to lay his hand on the door.
Like a flash Belle Braddon sprang into Flood’s private room and dashed her hand against the side wall.
In an instant, before Nick could raise a finger, both doors closed, with a loud, metallic clang and with a rapidity indicating that they were operated by powerful springs, which opened and closed both doors at once.
With a momentary thrill of dismay, Nick found himself alone in the walled passage, and in darkness so profound that it could almost be felt.
It was with a feeling of some chagrin that Nick Carter realized his desperate situation the moment the heavy iron doors of the walled passage closed upon him, leaving him alone in the Egyptian darkness of the tomblike place.
Yet the trick by which he had been caught was one to have deceived any man. Only a clairvoyant could have seen that the doors worked jointly and under the motive of powerful springs.
Though alert and watchful from the moment he had entered the house with Belle Braddon, he had not looked for such a trap as this.
Keenly suspicious, knowing in fact that the girl was up to some knavish game, Nick had suspected that he was being led into Flood’s house with a design to throw him into the hands of several assailants, a situation which would have given him no concern whatever, and which he really had been inviting in order to identify the parties to it and learn their motives.
Before Nick had fairly recovered from his surprise, however, he heard the voice of Belle Braddon fromFlood’s private room. It sounded dead and muffled, much as if Nick was locked in a bank vault, yet he could readily distinguish her words and the triumphant intonation with which they were uttered.
“I say, Carter,” she cried, crouching to place her lips near the crack of the closed door, “are you there?”
Nick instantly resumed his usual composure.
“Yes, I’m here,” he coolly answered.
“Throw me out of a job, will you?” screamed the girl, with a ringing laugh.
“I’ll do more than that for you one of these days, young lady,” Nick cried back.
“Yes, you will!” returned Belle derisively. “It won’t be many days before there’ll be singing and flowers at your house, and you’ll ride at the head of a procession.”
“Think so?”
“You’ll not hear any of the music, either.”
“Don’t bank too heavily on that,” replied Nick. “I have been in worse places than this.”
“And got out alone?”
“And got out alone.”
“Well, if you get out of this one, Carter, you’ll be a bird,” cried Belle tauntingly. “You’ll find that this is no gilded cage. How do you like it?”
“Oh, it’s snug and cozy all right.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy it. I’m going to leave you there.”
“The sooner the better,” retorted Nick. “Your room is preferable to your company.”
“Thanks,” laughed Belle. “The sentiment is mutual. By the way, sir!”
“Well?”
“You may make all the noise you wish. It won’t disturb anybody, for there’s nobody to hear it.”
“I’m glad to know that,” cried Nick, undaunted.
“Both houses are vacant and you are midway between them,” cried Belle, with a cruel laugh. “You may yell your lungs out and you’ll not be heard.”
“I shall keep my lungs where they belong,” cried Nick, a bit impatiently. “I shall require my voice a little later, to testify against you.”
“I’ll risk that, my man,” retorted the girl. “In that trap you’ll not live more than a day or two. If you don’t suffocate you’ll starve, for nobody will show up here for many a day. I’ll insure that.”
“Thanks. It’s very kind of you.”
“You’re entirely welcome,” answered Belle. “And when your body is finally discovered here, it will be assumed that you came here alone in search of Flood and accidentally got caught between the iron doors.”
“Quite reasonable, I am sure.”
“Very clever, isn’t it? You see, Carter, no one will ever be suspected of having lured you here and lodged you in there. You are reputed to be too clever to be caught in a trap in that fashion. It’s dead open and shut that your death will be attributed to an accident.”
“Providing I die here,” supplemented Nick.
“If you don’t, there’ll be something wrong with the deck,” cried Belle, with derisive assurance. “I’ll come to your funeral, Carter, and send a broken column.”
“Good enough. I’d prefer gates ajar, however.”
“Doors ajar, you mean,” cried Belle, with a scream of laughter. “Good-by, Carter. I’m going to leave you now. I have a date at the Waldorf at six. I’m going to dine with a yellow-haired chappie from Dakota.”
“Good-by—and good riddance,” cried Nick.
The last brought no answer.
Belle Braddon had glided silently out of Flood’s private room and was hurrying down the hall stairs.
Despite her derisive laughter and the taunting remarks with which she had mocked her helpless victim, her cheeks were as white as the knot of lace on her heaving breast.
The awful horror of the crime she had committed wasupon her. She fully believed that she had left Nick Carter to suffocate in the foul atmosphere of the walled passage; or, if spared that fate, that thirst and starvation would overcome him.
The very hideousness of the crime shook even her callous nature and filled her quaking soul with nameless horror.
The nervous tremor of her feet on the uncarpeted stairs as she hurriedly descended thrilled her with alarm, and her knees were knocking together when she reached the lower hall.
There she paused and caught her breath, steadying herself, then went into one of the silent parlors, as silent as death itself, to peer through the closed blinds into the sunlit street.
The brighter light outside restored her nerve, and a smile of vengeful exultation relaxed her drawn gray lips.
“He’s as good as done for, as good as done for,” she muttered through her teeth. “It serves him right. It was his life or that of my uncle, and all is fair when life hangs in the balance. He would have turned Nate down as indifferently as he did me, and he has invited only what he has got. Let him take his medicine, then! It’s what he deserves!”
With such reasoning as this she put the horrid crime out of her mind, and resolved to think no more about it.
With calmness came greater cunning. She reasoned that she might be seen leaving Flood’s house, if she departed by the front door. Instead, she descended to the basement.
There she broke a window and opened the catch, to indicate that Nick Carter, when his lifeless remains should be discovered, had entered the house, presumably in search of Moses Flood. That he had accidentally been caught in the walled passage she also felt sure would be assumed. That the crime should never be brought home to her, she was taking every precaution.
In the semidarkness of the basement, she next tied a thick veil over her hat, and drew it carefully about her face.
Then she let herself out the back door, locking it after her, and stole quickly through a narrow alley, and thus gained the nearest side street.
Now she breathed freely again, and triumphantly hastened away.
“Five thousand easily earned—easily earned!” she said to herself, weighing in mind the price Nathan Godard had agreed to pay for Nick Carter’s life.
Belle Braddon dined that evening with her yellow-haired chance acquaintance from Dakota, so alleged.
Had she dreamed for an instant that she was dining with Chick Carter, she would have fallen out of her chair in a fit.
It was midnight when she reached home at the shore house of Nathan Godard, and she found the large wooden dwelling enveloped in darkness.
There was no game in progress that night.
Belle went straight to bed—as straight as her unsteady steps would take her, and slept soundly until morning, the heavy sleep of semi-intoxication.
At breakfast with Nate Godard that morning she gave him the key to the situation—but not the situation itself.
“You keep away from those two town houses, Nate,” she said grimly to him, over her coffee.
“What’s that for?” inquired Godard curiously.
“Never mind what it’s for,” replied the girl, with threatening significance. “You do just as I say; that was the agreement when I undertook to accomplish this Carter job for you.”
Godard started slightly.
“Is it done?” he quickly asked.
“It’s as good as done, make no mistake about that.”
“On the level?” cried Godard, with knavish eagerness.
“Yes, on the level,” declared Belle. “But, mark what I say, Nate, and this goes.”
“Well?”
“You keep away from those two town houses for the next ten days. If you don’t do so, Nate Godard, you later may be run down to police headquarters, in Mulberry Street, to answer to the worst charge in the calendar. So do what I command, or bitter trouble may be yours.”
In his mind’s eye, so pointed were the girl’s remarks, Nate Godard fairly could see the lifeless body of Nick Carter stretched upon the cellar floor of one of the two houses. How Belle Braddon had accomplished it Godard neither knew nor cared. He felt it would be a safe gamble to follow her instructions to the letter.
“By thunder! Belle, I believe you have brought a shift of luck,” he exclaimed, after a moment, with a grim mingling of satisfaction and approval. “On my word, Belle, you are one girl in a million!”
She shrugged her shoulders, then drained her cup of coffee to its dregs.
“Let’s hope so,” she replied. “I have another bit of news for you, too, Nate!”
“What is that?”
“My Dakota chap’s uncle is coming on here to join his nephew.”
“The devil you say!” cried Godard, half rising from his chair.
“It’s no joke, Nate.”
“When is he coming?”
“I’m to meet the two of them at the Waldorf to-morrow afternoon.”
“You mean the wealthy cattle-dealer?”
“The same, Nate.”
“Can’t he be induced to go up against my game here?”
Belle Braddon’s crafty eyes took on a quizzical look at the man opposite.
“Suppose he can, Nate?” she answered slowly: “could you make a sure thing of him?”
“How much can be won?” demanded Godard ominously.
“A hundred thousand, at the least, if you get him on the down track.”
“Are you sure?”
“Dead sure!”
“And he comes from Dakota?”
“There’s no doubt of it, Nate, not a shadow of doubt.”cried Belle. “I’ve seen the telegram he sent to his nephew, and that simple guy hasn’t art enough to deceive an old woman. Yes, Nate, it’s dead open and shut that the uncle comes from Dakota.”
Godard dropped back into his chair and fell to thinking.
He was thinking of Moses Flood’s brace deal box, then in his own possession.
He was thinking, too, of a deck of strippers, also in his possession, with which he could vary to his own advantage the turn of every card.
In the lives of those who pursue fickle fortune through the medium of games of chance there is no experience which so arouses a spirit of utter recklessness as that of protracted losing. Sooner or later it drives discretion from its seat and opens the door for hot-headed desperation.
Say why the moth flies madly into the flame that consumes him! Say why the screaming sea-gull dashes out his brains against the dazzling windows of the towering lighthouse! Say why the undetected murderer haunts the neighborhood of his bloody crime!
Give answer to these questions—and then you may say what frenzy of human nature led Nathan Godard to dare self-destruction in the passionate greed of an evil hour.
Presently he looked up, fixing his inflamed eyes upon Belle Braddon’s face.
“A sure thing?” said he hoarsely. “Yes, I can make it a sure thing, Belle, that we win his money!”
“No slip-up, eh?”
“Not on your life!”
“Good!” cried Belle approvingly. “Get rid of all but your cuekeeper, Nate, and notify the gang that there’ll be no game here to-morrow night.”
“And you, Belle?”
“I will have the Dakota couple here at precisely nine o’clock.”
Nick Carter did not long remain idle after Belle Braddon left him alone in the trap she had sprung on him and made her departure from Flood’s vacant house.
Nick kept quiet only until he felt sure she had gone, and then he began to take the precise measure of his situation.
With both houses vacant, and the walled passage midway between them, there was, as Belle Braddon hadsaid, no possibility that he could make himself heard by persons in the adjoining dwellings or upon the street.
Nick gave up that idea almost at the outset.
That help would come to him seemed equally improbable. Nick knew that Flood would not visit his house and that Belle Braddon would insure that no person entered the one adjoining. That any accidental intruder would put in an appearance was next to absurd.
Nick quickly dropped all hope of relief of that character; in fact, nearly as quickly as he had dropped the other.
This left him but one resource—himself.
“I’m in here, and I must get out,” he grimly said to himself. “I was fool enough to be caught in the trap, but I’ll try to be clever enough to get out of it. First of all, to investigate it, for which we’ll have a little light.”
Nick never went without the ordinary requirements of his vocation, and he quickly fished out of his pocket a small electric lamp, the current of which he turned on, and immediately a flood of light dispelled the intense darkness of his narrow quarters.
“There, that is more like it,” he muttered. “Now to look about a bit.”