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)
General
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
Before the two culprits could recover from their astonishment or lift a
hand, the cool voice in the darkness continued:
“You see how it is, gentlemen, two men have the drop on you, so you may
as well give in.”
“Hold steady there, Mr. Officer, while I slip on the bracelets.”
Almost before the men could realize their true position, they were
handcuffed and helpless.
“It’s just this way,” said Nick, still keeping in the shadow, “nothing
is to be said about your attempt to lame Denver Bay.”
“What are we arrested for, then?” gasped Brower.
“For the larceny of twenty thousand dollars from James Wheeler’s office
in Wall Street not long ago.”
“Where is your proof?”
“Never mind the proof now. There is a carriage waiting outside. If you
make any noise here, or in the future give any intimation of the place
of your arrest, it will only damage your case with the court.”
They offered no further remonstrance, and were soon in a carriage on
their way to the county jail in charge of two deputy sheriffs.
A few men lounging about the place saw the men enter the carriage, but
no one suspected that the elegantly attired gentleman and the
rough-looking hostler were handcuffed together.
As Nick stood watching the carriage when it was driven off he felt a
soft pull at his coat.
“My!” said the voice of a jockey, “wasn’t that a slick job?”
“You little scamp!” said Nick, with a smile, “did you see that?”
“You bet I did. Don’t you s’pose I wanted to know what you was stayin’
in dere for?”
“Suppose I had stayed there all night?”
“Den I wouldn’t have got no sleep.”
“Suppose I had hurt the horse?”
“Then I’d have clawed your eyes out.”
“You think a good deal of that horse, don’t you?”
“Course I does.”
“Then you stick close to him to-morrow.”
“You bet I will. I’m goin’ to ride him.”
“Well, if you see a new hostler hanging around him on the track, you ask
him if he doesn’t think he’s a dude. If he says he was a dude yesterday
you go on about your business and let him alone. Understand?”
“All right. Guess I know who de new man’ll be.”
“Well, don’t you open your mouth about what has taken place here
to-night, and keep equally still about to-morrow’s work.”
The boy nodded and turned away.
“And now,” thought Nick, as he walked toward the hotel, “I’ve got the
biggest scheme of all to face in the morning.”
CHAPTER VII.
A FOOT RACE.
“There’s something mysterious going on.”
Martin was the speaker, and Amos was listening, all attention.
“Anything new?”
“Why, there’s rumors around the stables of strange happenings last
night, but no one seems to know anything definite.”
“In what way?”
“That’s what I can’t find out. People were seen to pass out late in the
night and drive hurriedly away in a carriage.”
“Nobody knows who they were?”
“The jockey who is to ride Denver Bay was seen talking to one of the
strangers, but you can’t get a word out of him.”
“That’s strange.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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