Nick Carter Stories No. 11, November 23, 1912: Nick Carter Strikes Oil; or, Uncovering More Than a MurderCarter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 11, November 23, 1912: Nick Carter Strikes Oil; or, Uncovering More Than a Murder
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
Low was perfectly quiet. He did not talk or act like the hot-tempered
man who had threatened Mr. Judson.
“You can tell your wife,” said Nick, “that a man wants you to go to the
city on business about the land deal. Let her think that some good luck
has come your way. I don’t think you’ll have to disappoint her
afterward. Then hitch up your horse, and we’ll go back together.”
Low agreed to this without argument. He went into the house and was gone
several minutes. Then he went to the barn and hitched up. A little
later, he and the detective were jogging over the road toward Denver.
CHAPTER VI.
THE PHOTOGRAPHER’S EVIDENCE.
Kerr was at police headquarters when Nick arrived with his prisoner, and
his eyes glowed triumphantly when he saw them come in.
“You got him!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” said Nick, “he surrendered when I told him how strong the
evidence was against him.”
“I wonder he hadn’t run away.”
“Well, you see, he didn’t know that a messenger had come in with a
telegram just ahead of him.”
Kerr chuckled.
“This will be a great story for the newspaper fellows,” he said.
“They’ve been here all the evening till about half an hour ago. I told
them to come back later.”
Nick looked thoughtful.
He wondered if it would be necessary to give the honest farmer the shame
of having it printed that he had been arrested for murder?
“I suppose the newspaper boys know that I am on the case,” said Nick.
“Oh, yes--everybody knows it.”
“But they don’t know that I went to Mason Creek?”
“Well, I reckon they’ve guessed it. Newspaper reporters are good at
that, you know.”
“Do they know that Low was under suspicion?”
“Sure! They got that from the hotel clerk.”
“Humph!”
Nick was a little disgusted.
When he handled a case in his own way, hotel clerks and others were not
allowed to tell what they knew, and he took pains that nobody should
know too much, anyway, until he got ready to tell them.
“See here, Kerr,” he said earnestly, “I’d hold the reporters off for a
time, if I were in your place.”
Kerr glanced at the clock, and saw it was not far from midnight.
“They’ll be hungry for news pretty soon,” said he.
“And perhaps I can give them a little more, and a better story, if they
wait a bit.”
“Why----”
“Low isn’t the only one.”
“Ah!”
“I want to consult with my assistant before telling about this arrest.”
“You have a clew that you haven’t spoken of, then?”
“Maybe. Just lock Low up without putting anything on the blotter for a
little while. Give me an hour to see what I can do.”
“All right, Carter, if you say so. But what shall I tell the reporters?”
“Nothing. I’ll be back inside an hour.”
Nick whispered a few words to Low, telling him to keep his courage up
and his mouth shut, and went away.
He had asked Kerr to wait an hour, without any idea as to what he should
or could do, for Nick felt that he had only got to the beginning of the
case.
He was certain of Low’s innocence, though he might not be able to
convince a jury of it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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