The House of Fear by Nick Carter - HTML preview

CHAPTER IX.
 THE COUNTERSTROKE.

The bright light within illumined the drawn curtains of the Lexington Avenue flat, casting on them a filigree shadow of the filmy lace draperies, convincing Nick Carter before he had entered that Sadie Badger had not bolted.

Nick’s ring was quickly answered, moreover, by the woman herself. He saw the evil light that flashed up for an instant in her intense black eyes when she saw and recognized him, which further assured him that he not only had sized up the circumstances correctly, but also that her designs were precisely what he suspected.

Sadie Badger greeted him with a smile, however, placing her forefinger on her lips and glancing significantly up the stairs.

"Not too loud, Bosey, till we’re inside and the door closed," she said quietly, drawing back for him to enter. "I’m a bit leary of those ginks on the next floor. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. If they get wise to too much, it might hurt me."

Nick nodded approvingly, with a grim smile on his made-up, hangdog face, and he took the chair to which she pointed. He noticed that her hat, veil, and a long black cloak were lying on a sofa, as if she had just come in, or intended going out.

"That’s good judgment, kid," he replied, in the same husky voice he had assumed the previous night. "There’s nothing lost by keeping others in the dark."

"Right you are, Bosey." "Was you looking for me to-night?"

"Sure thing," nodded Sadie, sitting opposite. "You said you’d come, didn’t you? I always take the word of a pal. Have you seen the newspapers?"

"All of them, kid. I nailed them as soon as the story was out. But the dicks ain’t wise to anything. You’ve still got the stuff safe in the house?"

"No, not here, now," said Sadie. "That was too long a chance. I’ve put it in care of some friends, but I can get it any hour we want it."

"I dunno about that," Nick demurred, with manifest suspicion.

"You can bank on me and what I tell you, Bosey, and that goes," Sadie hastened to assure him. "I wouldn’t double cross a pal. You can meet my friends and see the plunder for yourself, if you like."

"How’s that?" questioned Nick, though he saw plainly to what she immediately was leading.

"I’ve got to go out there," Sadie glibly explained. "I’d have been gone before now, Bosey, if I hadn’t been looking for you. I had a hunch you would show up quite early, so I decided to wait for you."

"What’s the game?" Nick questioned, still pretending to be a bit doubtful.

It convinced Sadie Badger that he did not suspect her deeper game, and that he would walk blindly into the trap she and Goulard had laid for him.

"There’s another job on, Bosey," she replied, with voice lowered.

"What kind of a job, kid?"

"Same kind. A crib up in Riverside Drive. It has been sized up by another pal of mine, and a good haul can be made, but it will take three or four of us to pull it off. I’ve told him about you, Bosey, and insisted that you be let in on it. I’ve not forgotten last night, you see," Sadie added expressively.

"You’re all right, kid," Nick grimly nodded. "But when is the trick to be turned?"

"To-morrow night. I’ve got to go out and talk it over with the other this evening. You’re to go with me, if the scheme hits you all right."

"Sure it hits me all right," Nick quickly declared. "But where do we go to see them?"

"A good piece out of town."

"By train?"

"No. Taxi."

"Ain’t that taking a chance?" growled Nick, still seeming doubtful. "I don’t bank strong on chauffeurs."

"The one I employ is all right," said Sadie, with sinister earnestness. "He is one of the gang. We can trust him the limit."

"Well, that’s more like it," said Nick. "What’s his name?"

"Fallon."

"How can you get at him?"

"By telephone," said Sadie, with a glance at an instrument on a stand in one corner. "He’s expecting to hear from me. I’ve been waiting only for you to show up, Bosey, and say you would go."

Nick was very willing to go and he saw no reason to defer doing so, the woman’s assurance convincing him that she felt that she held the ribbons and that he suspected no ulterior designs. Nick had not a doubt, moreover, as to whom he was to meet.

"Sure, kid, I’ll go," he said, after a moment. "Why wouldn’t I go?"

"No reason, Bosey."

"Get next to the phone, then, and fetch on your man. We can’t start too soon to suit me."

"That’s the stuff!" cried Sadie; with another momentary gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "I’ll have him here with his buzz car in five minutes."

She arose with the last and hastened to the telephone.

Nick fished out a black cigar and lit it, smoking indifferently until the woman resumed her seat. He then continued the conversation much along the foregoing lines, until the noise of the approaching taxicab was heard by both, when Sadie started up and exclaimed:

"He’s here, Bosey. That’s Fallon."

"So I heard."

"I’ll get into my cloak and lid."

"Stop a bit, kid," said Nick, checking her and lurching forward in his chair. "Lemme have a look at him before we start."

"What’s that for?" questioned Sadie quickly.

"Only because I like to see who I’m in with," Nick explained indifferently. "Call him in and give him your directions. That’ll be enough."

Sadie Badger saw nothing for him to gain, if she complied with his wish, feeling that she had all the best of him. She shrugged her broad, shapely shoulders and laughed, then stepped to the front door and called Fallon into the house.

"He is here, Bosey," she remarked, when the burly chauffeur followed her into the room. "Shake hands with Bosey Magee, Bill, who is going out with me. You’ll find him all right."

Fallon grinned and complied.

"The more the better, old top," he remarked carelessly.

"Glad to know you," Nick growled cordially.

"Take us out to Corson’s place, Bill, and get there lively," said Sadie, in compliance with Nick’s suggestion.

"I can make it in twenty minutes," Fallon nodded.

"Good enough. I’ll get into my rags and veil and be with you in a couple of minutes."

"I’ll wait for you outside."

"Go ahead, then. We’ll not be long."

Fallon swung round and swaggered out of the house, returning to his seat in the taxicab.

Sadie Badger arose and took her cloak from the sofa.

When she turned to put it on—she found Nick Carter confronting her, with a revolver thrust under her very nose.

"If you speak, Sadie, this will speak louder," he said sternly, gripping her by the shoulder. "Not a sound, mind you, or you’ll get all that’s coming to you."

The woman turned as white as the knot of lace at her throat.

"Heavens!" she muttered, with lips twitching. "You mean——”

"Silence!" Nick sternly hissed. "I’m wise to the whole business. Our partnership in crime is ended, also your little game. If you utter a sound to warn Fallon, I’ll send you to prison for twenty years."

"Curse you, Carter, I——”

"Hush! Ah, Chick, you’re here!"

Chick Carter had darted quietly in from a rear room.

Sadie Badger had dropped on the sofa, as pale as if death-stricken.

"I picked the lock of the back door," Chick whispered. "Is the way open?"

"Wide open," said Nick, whipping out a pair of handcuffs. "Get into her garments. We must be out in another minute. I’ll fix the woman."

Sadie Badger, with the detective’s threat ringing in her ears, which she knew only too well he would execute, collapsed completely and offered no resistance.

Nick handcuffed her with her arms behind her, then tied a bandage securely over her mouth. He then marched her into a closet in the adjoining room and locked the door.

When he returned, after less than a minute, he found Chick clad in the woman’s hat and veil, with his figure almost completely enveloped in her long, black cloak.

"Capital!" said Nick, surveying him. "You’ll get by hands down."

"I think so."

"Ready?"

"As a rivet."

Nick switched out the electric light.

Fallon saw the glow vanish from the curtained windows. Less than two minutes had passed since he returned to his seat.

He merely glanced at the two figures that came from the house, quickly crossing the sidewalk in the darkness and entering the open taxicab. The door was closed with a bang, and another moment saw them speeding away—whither Sadie Badger had directed.

Five minutes later a policeman, acting under instructions Nick had given him earlier, entered the flat and removed the detective’s partner in crime to the precinct station.

It was half past six when Fallon slowed down in the darkness bf the narrow road into which he had turned, immediately drawing up at one side of it. He stopped the motor, then sprang down and opened the cab door.

"We’ll have to walk to the house, Sadie," he growled, addressing the veiled figure in the opposite corner. "I’ll not risk running the taxi over this bum road in the dark. It’s only fifty yards to the house. We can walk it."

"Sure!" said Nick. "Come on, kid."

Fallon drew back to let them out, turning to gaze up the narrow, deserted road.

Nick stepped in front of him, drawing his revolver.

"Put your hands behind you, Fallon," he said sternly. "You are under arrest. Take it easy and save yourself worse trouble."

Fallon staggered and glanced back over his shoulder in search of Sadie Badger. The hat, veil, and cloak had been discarded by the figure behind him, and he found himself gazing at the face of Chick Carter.

"Good heavens!" he gasped involuntarily. "What am I up against?"

"You know, Fallon, without my telling you," said Nick. "The game is up, and we’re out to get the entire gang. We’re going to do it, too."

"I guess that’s no fairy tale." Fallon knuckled with a sickly smile. "You’re the worst ever, Carter, the very worst. Well, I’m not in so bad, at that. Go as far as you like."

"Put bracelets on him, Chick, and we’ll secure him with another pair to one of the taxicab wheels," Nick directed. "That will hold him till we return."

"Let me sit inside," said Fallon. "I’ll not bolt."

"I shall feel a little more easy if I don’t take the chance," Nick dryly answered. "You’ll not suffer greatly, and it won’t be for long."

Fallon offered no further protest, and was left secured as described.

"Now, Chick, having landed a couple of the hirelings, we’ll get after the master," said Nick, as they turned away. "Unless I am much mistaken, we to-night shall see the last of Gaston Goulard, in so far as his criminal career is concerned. He is booked to pay the penalty."

"That’s likely to be his life for having killed Batty Lang."

"It’s more than probable. Come on."

"You expect to find Helen Mantell here, I infer."

"I haven’t a doubt of it," said Nick. "Be quiet, now, and have your guns ready. I’ll lead the way."

They had moved on and were picking their way up the narrow road. Through the intervening trees, the outlines of the old Corson house could be dimly seen. A solitary light appeared at one of the side windows.

Nick led the way in that direction, moving noiselessly over the damp sod. It proved to be the window of a dining room, as he could see between the curtain and the casing, though the roller shade was drawn completely down.

No other precautions had been taken by Gaston Goulard, however, so sure was he that the expected taxicab would bring only Fallon, Sadie Badger, and Nick, with the latter up against odds that he could not possibly oppose.

Though none of them were entirely visible, Nick could see that there were several persons in the room. While he gazed, trying to identify one or more of them, he heard the voice of the crook he was chiefly seeking.

"I’ll not stand for any further objections, Mrs. Mantell," Goulard was harshly saying. "You write what I dictate to your husband, stating the terms I direct, or I’ll——”

"Don’t you do anything of the kind, Mrs. Mantell," interrupted a voice that Nick instantly knew to be Patsy’s. "Let this rascal collect the ransom he demands as best he can. He’ll not harm you as long as he sees any show of getting it. Don’t write a line, or——”

"You keep quiet, or I’ll silence you in a way you’ll not fancy," Goulard fiercely cut in. "I’ll put you away, Garvan, as well as Nick Carter, if I do nothing else. You listen to me, woman, and——”

Nick did not wait to hear more. He touched Chick’s elbow and continued on toward the rear of the house, where the door of the kitchen met his gaze.

"We have them where we want them, Chick, if we can enter quietly," he whispered.

"Dead to rights," Chick nodded.

"There is no lock on the door. It may be hooked or bolted on the inside. No, by Jove, it is not. They were cocksure of their game, all right."

Nick had tried the door and found that he could open it. He did so, glancing at Chick, and both stepped into the kitchen.

The only light came through a doorway in the near hall, that of the dining room.

The voice of Goulard again could be heard, addressing the abducted woman and rising loud and harsh with his threats and commands. It served to completely drown the stealthy steps in the hall.

Suddenly it stopped short, as if the miscreant’s tongue had been palsied, and then came a shriek of dismay that was bloodcurdling in its intensity.

Goulard saw Nick and Chick in the open door, with hard-set faces and drawn revolvers.

A shout came from Patsy, bound hand and foot to a chair.

A scream of relief broke from Helen Mantell, seated white and helpless in one corner.

Mullen, Sampson, and Jim Corson, with jaws suddenly dropping, stared as if they beheld two ghosts.

"Sit still, all of you," Nick calmly commanded. "I will shoot the first man who shows fight or makes a move in that direction."

Only one man did so—Goulard.

A vision of the electric chair must have leaped up in his mind. For his face turned as gray as ashes, and he appeared to choose the quicker fate. He whipped out a revolver, clapped the muzzle against his ribs, and fired.

The thundering report fairly shook the house.

Goulard pitched face forward on the floor, shot through the heart.

It was the last step of a downward career, the last act of a man gone hopelessly to the bad.

The arrest of the others was easily accomplished, with nothing more sensational than imprecations and curses. Nine o’clock that evening saw all that remained of the gang securely lodged in the Tombs.

The same hour saw Helen Mantell restored to her husband’s arms, and the cloud of fear that had hung over the Mantell mansion was dispelled forever.

Though uninjured by the experience she had suffered, Helen could only state that, after riding away with the man she had supposed to be her father-in-law, he had almost immediately seized her and plunged a needle into her neck, evidently impregnated with some powerful and quick-acting drug. She knew no more until she revived in the old Corson place, scarce a half hour before Nick Carter’s arrival.

The gratitude of the Mantells, as well as their reward to the detectives for their splendid work, were all that the Carters could ask, and Patsy made sure that Frank Steel got his for the services rendered.

The crooks suffered the extreme penalty for their crime, including Nick’s partner in knavery—but the detective made sure that the Buckley plunder was restored to its owner.

It was found in the secret cellar under the Corson stable—with the hidden fruits of several previous robberies.

"Taken as a whole," Nick Carter remarked that evening; "it was the round-up and wind-up of a very bad gang."

END