CHAPTER V.
SUSPICIONS VERIFIED.
Nick Carter knew that he had found one important clew, at least, in the threatening communication which had been left there by Gerald Vaughn, as the latter had been known while occupying the Colonel Barker residence.
The very audacity of it, moreover, was additional evidence of the true identity of the writer. For it corresponded with many a previous display of effrontery which had, in connection with his extraordinary crimes, made the name of Mortimer Deland notorious.
Nick turned and displayed the letter when Chick and Patsy entered.
“Do you recognize the hand?” he inquired.
“By Jove, it looks like that which Conroy showed us,” Chick said quickly. “I can almost swear to it.”
“I think so, too.”
“We can clinch it easily enough, chief,” put in Patsy. “I still have the tracery I made. We came away in such a hurry, chief, that I did not put it in your desk.”
“Let me see it,” said Nick. “I will compare them.”
It took him only a moment to satisfy himself that he was right. There were peculiarities in the fine, feminine hand that left him no shadow of a doubt.
“It is dead open and shut,” he declared. “Vaughn is none other than Mortimer Deland. The bizarre character of this crime, moreover, is directly in line with his work abroad.”
“That’s true, chief, for fair,” said Patsy. “Who else would have thought of using a casket, florist’s boxes, and an undertaker’s wagon for getting away with a big lot of plunder? The job——”
“Spells Mortimer Deland, Patsy, in capital letters,” Nick interrupted. “His alleged sister undoubtedly is Fannie Coyle, the English female crook Conroy mentioned.”
“Gee! that’s right, too.”
“The housekeeper said to have died is another confederate,” Nick added. “She probably is an American woman, however, since such an assistant would have been required by comparative strangers here.”
“The undertaker and his assistant, also, must be in league with them,” Chick argued.
“Yes, undoubtedly,” Nick agreed. “Otherwise, the two men would have detected and exposed the fraud. They would have known whether the casket contained a corpse and the pasteboard boxes a quantity of flowers, or whether they were packed with other articles. They could not have been so egregiously deceived, even though they did not open them, and were employed only to take them to a railway station.”
“Surely not, Nick, if they have brains,” Chick declared. “That’s the point I had in mind.”
“I shall not be surprised if we find the casket still in the house, and that only the outside box was used for removing the plunder. It would contain more and could be more easily packed.”
“Let’s find out,” said Chick. “The casket was on a bier in the parlor last evening.”
He led the way while speaking, and again Nick’s prediction proved to be correct. The casket was found standing on end behind the parlor door. The standards on which it had rested the previous evening were back of a sofa. The entire robbery was, as Nick had said, of a bizarre character and originality of conception that alone proclaimed the identity of the knave who had designed and directed it.
“There appears to be nothing for us, now, but to get after the rascals,” said Chick, a bit impatiently. “They have a start of more than an hour. We may be able to trace them, nevertheless, if we get a move on and——”
“We shall be more likely to meet with success, Chick, if we make haste slowly,” Nick interposed. “There is no telling where they have gone. It is perfectly safe to assume, nevertheless, that they did not go to a railway station, as stated. They will not let others handle those boxes, nor attempt to transport them in any other conveyance than the wagon with which they are provided.”
“But it’s an undertaker’s wagon, Nick, and we ought to be able to trace it,” Chick argued, more forcibly.
“There are a hundred such wagons on the move this morning, Chick, and it would be impossible to trace this particular one,” Nick insisted. “There would be nothing in that.”
“You may be right.”
“I know I am right. We must take advantage of the difficulties involving the rascals themselves, instead of going up against those they have put in our way.”
“You mean?”
“No undertaker is engaged in this robbery,” Nick said confidently. “Deland and his confederates have contrived in some way to obtain a casket, the florist’s boxes, and an undertaker’s team. We must find out where they came from, if possible, and try to discover the identity of Deland’s male confederates.”
“The supposed undertaker and his assistant?”
“Exactly. They probably are local crooks, also the woman who posed as the housekeeper. If we can identify one of them, even, we shall have picked up a thread that may lead us to the entire gang.”
“There is something in that,” Chick admitted.
“The trunks containing the belongings of the three crooks who have been living here must have been taken away several days ago, or by night, perhaps,” Nick went on. “Deland would not have deferred their removal until this morning.”
“Surely not.”
“It is barely possible, of course, that the hackman who was here this morning was in league with them, but I do not think it probable. We must hunt him up, therefore, and find out where he took Deland and Fannie Coyle this morning.”
“You appear to have no doubt of their identity, Nick?”
“Not the slightest.”
“Gee! it looks like a cinch, chief, for fair,” put in Patsy.
“Bear in mind, too, that we have one unsuspected advantage over this rascal,” Nick added.
“What is that?”
“He doesn’t even dream, of course, that we are informed of his identity. He undoubtedly has been living here in disguise. He will discard it, now, and take another alias, confident that no one will recognize him, or even think of Mortimer Deland as the perpetrator of this robbery.”
“That’s more than likely, Nick, and we ought to derive some advantage from it.”
“I think we shall, Chick, having seen the photograph Conroy brought round. Feeling thus confident, moreover, Deland is daring enough to go straight to a first-class hotel with Fannie Coyle, posing in entirely new characters. It will be well to inspect some of the hotel registers in search of his writing.”
“There are possibilities in all that, Nick,” Chick readily admitted.
“Bear in mind, too, the difficulties involved in disposing of the plunder from an undertaker’s wagon,” said Nick. “Where would the rascals take it? Not to a private residence, for the wagon would attract the attention of the neighbors and give rise to inquiries that might result in speedy exposure. If taken to an isolated house, the wagon would be seen going there and investigations might follow. The rascals would not take those chances.”
“I agree with you,” Chick nodded.
“Nor would they trust their load to any railway company, nor to transportation by others.”
“Surely not.”
“How, then, would they dispose of it? Where would they naturally take it?”
“That’s the question, Nick.”
“Gee! it’s some question, too.”
“They might, of course, drive to some point out of the city, where they could transfer it undetected to an ordinary wagon, in which it could be quickly taken to some place of concealment. Or it might be hidden in some woodland section and afterward removed.”
“There really seems to be no other safe way of disposing of it,” said Chick.
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Nick advised. “Deland is crafty and ingenious. He may have hit upon an entirely different method, one so novel and original that it does not occur to us.”
“Possibly.”
“Be that as it may, Chick, we will take up the trail as we find it,” Nick said abruptly. “I will return to Strickland’s apartments and give him a few instructions, then I’ll be off for a talk with the agent in charge of this house. He may impart something worth knowing.”
“It’s worth trying, at least.”
“You get next to a telephone and a directory, in the meantime, and call up all of the local undertakers. Find out whether one of them has an extra wagon and has rented it, or——”
“I understand,” Chick cut in with a nod.
“Learn what you can from him, in that case, and be governed accordingly.”
“Trust me for that.”
“While we are thus engaged, Patsy, you get after the cabmen and the local express drivers. Find out, if possible, who took away——”
“The crooks’ trunks,” put in Patsy. “I’ve got you, chief, hands down. You don’t need to tell me what to do in a case of this kind.”
“Very good,” said Nick. “Telephone to the house any discovery you may make, providing circumstances prevent you from returning. Otherwise, we’ll meet there, as usual. That’s all—except to dig in, tooth and nail, to trace these rascals.”
It then was nine o’clock.
Precisely two hours had passed since the departure of Mortimer Deland and Fannie Coyle—and the undertaker’s wagon filled with the stolen treasures.