Nick Carter Stories No. 120, December 26, 1914: An uncanny revenge; or, Nick Carter and the mind murderer.Carter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 120, December 26, 1914: An uncanny revenge; or, Nick Carter and the mind murderer.
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
It would have been very easy, with no obstacle worth mentioning to
interpose. No one who saw them would have thought it particularly
strange to see the nurse and the doctor leaving together. At most, it
would have suggested that they were on unusually good terms, and that he
was taking her out for an airing in his car.
The keen-witted physician had progressed thus far by the time Nick
arrived, but he had not yet sought to verify his deductions by
questioning any of the hotel staff.
Nick listened to his theory, put a few additional questions to the
nurse, and then complimented Doctor Lightfoot on his analysis.
“That seems to be the way of it,” the detective admitted. “A light,
three-quarter-length coat, which the nurse often wore over her uniform,
is also missing, together with her hat. The distinctive nurse’s skirt
would have shown beneath the coat and thereby help the deception.”
Confidential inquiries were made at once, and the fact was established
that the two masqueraders--one voluntary and one involuntary--had left
the building about ten o’clock the night before.
The supposed Lightfoot had arrived in a smart, closed town car, which
had been near enough to the physician’s in appearance to deceive the
carriage starter. The chauffeur wore a quiet livery, a copy of that worn
by Lightfoot’s driver. The car had waited, and the two had ridden away
in it.
That was all the hotel people could say. The night clerk had thought it
odd that Miss Lund’s nurse had not returned, but it was none of his
business, of course, if the actress’ physician had taken her away.
It was of little importance now, but Nick was curious enough to make
inquiries, while he was about it, which brought out the fact that a man
had registered at the hotel the morning after the affair at the theater,
and had paid his bill and left the evening before.
It might have been only a coincidence, but certain features of the
man’s description, as given, left room for the belief that Doctor
Grantley had really been at the Wentworth-Belding during that interval.
But where was he now, and what had he done with the unfortunate actress?
Such as it was, the slender clew furnished by the closed car must be
followed up for all it was worth.
That was not likely to prove an easy matter, and, unless Grantley had
lost his cunning, the trail of the machine would probably lead to
nothing, even if it could be followed. Nevertheless, there seemed to be
nothing else to work on.
The chauffeur of the car might have been an accomplice, but it was not
necessary to suppose so. It looked as if the wily Grantley had hunted up
a machine of the same make as Doctor Lightfoot’s, and had engaged it for
a week or a month, paying for it in advance.
There are many cars to be had in New York on such terms, and they are
extensively used by people who wish to give the impression, for a
limited time, that they own a fine car.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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