New Nick Carter weekly; No. 28. July 10, 1897; Nick Carter at the track; or, How he became a dead game sport. — John Shaqi
New Nick Carter weekly; No. 28. July 10, 1897; Nick Carter at the track; or, How he became a dead game sport.Carter, Nicholas (House name)
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New Nick Carter weekly; No. 28. July 10, 1897; Nick Carter at the track; or, How he became a dead game sport.
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Dime novels -- Periodicals
NEW
NICK CARTER
WEEKLY.
_Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1897 by Street &
Smith, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C._
_Entered as second class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office._
_Issued weekly._ _Subscription price, $2.50 per year._ _July 10, 1897._
No. 28. STREET & SMITH, Publishers. NEW YORK. 29 Rose St., N. Y.5 Cents.
Nick Carter at the Track;
OR,
HOW HE BECAME A DEAD GAME SPORT.
By the Author of “NICK CARTER.”
CHAPTER I.
DENVER BAY.
“And so, you see, I stand to lose twenty thousand dollars.”
“That’s a large sum.”
“Yes, Mr. Carter, it’s a large sum; but a middle-aged gentleman like
yourself ought to be aware that risks are sometimes forced upon people
who handle money in large sums.”
The celebrated detective smiled as he looked into the excited
countenance of the Wall Street man before him.
Half an hour before, if the broker had seen him at all, he would hardly
have referred to him as “a middle-aged business man.”
The detective had just returned from an expedition to the upper part of
the city, during which he had appeared as a verdant country boy of an
inquiring turn of mind.
“Of course,” the detective said, slowly, “people who handle money for
the profit of others are expected to keep it in motion--honestly in
motion.”
He glanced keenly into his visitor’s face as he emphasized the last
three words.
“My case is hardly what you suppose it to be,” said Mr. James Wheeler,
broker. “The money I handle belongs to two heirs--both minors. With
that, however, you have nothing to do.”
“You’re mistaken,” said Nick Carter, coldly. “If I am to handle your
case I must have your fullest confidence.”
“Regarding my present venture, certainly, but I fail to see how past
complications can interest you.”
“I have always made it a point,” said the detective, rising to his feet,
“not to engage in any case which is not entirely square and above-board.
You come here with a statement that you have risked twenty thousand
dollars belonging to two innocent children in the next Brooklyn
Handicap, an illegal proceeding, and if you have done this for your own
personal gain you have taken the first step toward a crime, and in that
case I refuse to have anything to do with the matter.”
“Do you remember,” said Wheeler, putting out a hand to restrain the
detective, who seemed about to leave the room, “about the recent
daylight robbery in Wall Street, which resulted in the loss of twenty
thousand dollars in cash?”
“Now you talk like a man of sense,” said the detective, resuming his
seat and drawing a note-book from his pocket.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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