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Read Ebook: Nick Carter Stories No. 131 March 13 1915: A fatal message; or Nick Carter's slender clew by Carter Nicholas House Name Phillips Roland Ashford
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Ebook has 764 lines and 39707 words, and 16 pages
"This is strictly between us, Belden, so be sure that you don't betray my confidence under any circumstances. I am in Shelby on very important business. Any indiscretion on your part might prove very costly. You read your local newspaper and must know me by name, at least. I am the New York detective, Nick Carter."
Belden's frank face underwent a decided change. He quickly extended his hand, saying earnestly:
Belden referred to recent events. The secret employment of Nick and his assistants to run down the perpetrators of a long series of crimes on the S. & O. Railway, his investigation of the murder of the night operator in one of the block-signal towers, resulting in the detection and death of the culprit, James Reardon, and the arrest of several of his associates suspected of being identified with the railway outlaws, though their guilt could not then be proved--all had occurred during the ten days that Nick Carter, Chick, and Patsy had been in Shelby, and all still were vividly fresh in the public mind.
Nick smiled faintly at Belden's enthusiastic remarks.
"We still have much to accomplish here," he replied, referring to himself and his assistants. "We got James Reardon, all right, and cleaned up that signal-tower mystery, which was what we first undertook to do. That did not clinch our suspicions against some of his associates, however, as I had hoped it would do. I refer to Jake Hanlon, Link Magee, and Dick Bryan, who have succeeded in wriggling from under the wheels of justice."
"But you expect to get them later?"
"I expect to, yes," said Nick. "But my identity and mission in Shelby now are generally known. That has put the railway bandits on their guard, which makes our work more difficult. But that's neither here nor there, Mr. Belden, and I am wasting time. I wish to see a copy of that telegram you were discussing with Gordon and to ask you a few questions about it."
"Go ahead. Go as far as you like, Mr. Carter. I'll never mention a word of it," Belden earnestly assured him.
"Good for you," Nick replied. "About what time was the telegram received?"
"Precisely ten o'clock."
"And Dalton called for it almost immediately?"
"Within three or four minutes."
"That indicates that he was expecting it at just that time," said Nick. "If I am right, and I think I am, he was acting under plans previously laid with the sender, Martin, or he was otherwise informed just when the message would be sent. Do you recall ever having received another dispatch from Philadelphia signed Martin?"
"I do not," said Belden, shaking his head.
"What type of man is Dalton? Describe him."
"He is a well-built man, about forty years old, quite dark, and he wears a full beard. He was clad in a plaid business suit."
"The beard may have been a disguise."
"I think I would have detected it."
"You do not detect mine," smiled Nick. "He may be equally skillful."
"There may be something in that," Belden admitted, laughing. "At all events, Mr. Carter, the man was a total stranger to me. But why do you regard the message so suspiciously?"
"Have you a copy of it?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Let me see it."
Belden stepped into the outer office, returning presently with a spindle, on which were copies of all of the telegrams received that day. He began to remove them, seeking the one in question, and Nick said, while waiting:
"Yes. There was one this morning."
"Let me see that, also. Was it received before the other, or later?"
"About an hour earlier."
"Let me see both of them."
"Here is the first one," said Belden. "It was received at nine o'clock. See for yourself, Mr. Carter."
Nick took the telegram and read it:
"Gus Dewitt, Reddy House, Shelby: Ten will hit me. Quickest route.
A. Monaker."
It was a message that would have signified very little to most men. It might have been an ordinary business communication, a wire concerning the price and quantity of desired merchandise and the direction for shipping it.
Nick Carter's strong, clean-cut face, however, took on a more intent expression.
"Why do you think so?" Belden inquired, leaning nearer to read the telegram.
"For three reasons," said Nick. "First, the signature--A. Monaker."
"What about it? It evidently is a man's name. I see nothing remarkable in that."
"There is, nevertheless," Nick replied. "Monaker, Belden, is a slang term for a nickname. Undoubtedly in this case it refers to a fictitious name, or an alias. It means, I think, that an alias would be used in the message afterward sent, signed Martin and addressed to John Dalton, presumably an alias of which Dalton already was informed."
"Ten will hit me told Dalton at just what time he must expect the message. He was, in effect, directed to call for it at that hour. Obviously, too, the business is secret and important, as well as off color, or such a circumspect method of communication would not be necessary."
"Surely not," Belden agreed. "But what do you make of the last--quickest route?"
"Training enables one to detect such points as these," Nick replied. "Do you know Gus Dewitt, to whom this message is addressed?"
"I do not."
"It was sent to the Reddy House."
"Yes. It may have been signed for by the clerk, or delivered to Dewitt himself. The boy who took it there could tell us, but he is out just now. You can telephone to the Reddy House and find out."
"Not by a long chalk," Nick quickly objected. "I don't want my interest in this matter suspected. Have you found the other message?"
"Yes, here it is."
Belden tendered the yellow paper on which the copied message was written.
Nick Carter read more carefully the telegram discussed in the hotel caf?, and which had so seriously aroused his suspicions.
"John Dalton, Shelby: Dust flying. S. D. on way. Ware eagle.
Martin."
Belden watched the detective for a moment, then asked:
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