Nick Carter Stories No. 146, June 26, 1915: Paying the Price; or, Nick Carter's Perilous VentureCarter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 146, June 26, 1915: Paying the Price; or, Nick Carter's Perilous Venture
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
“But it so happened that one day during the first week of my stay, and
some few days before Christmas, I met with a slight accident while on
the ice, and a sprained ankle prevented me from further indulging in
outside sports for the remainder of my stay. Nevertheless, I insisted
that my inability to join them should in no way deter my companions from
following their own sweet will. Thus it happened that one evening I was
the sole occupant of the great hall, which was, in point of fact, the
largest room in the whole house, and a most imposing apartment it was.
The lofty ceiling was supported by massive beams of oak finely carved,
and blackened by the smoke of centuries, while hanging round its walls
were some of the most beautiful tapestries I have ever seen. At
intervals were placed suits of armor, shields, swords, spears, and other
warlike implements, which shone and glistened in the glow of the immense
fire which burned in the open hearth.
“For a while I had occupied myself with a book, sitting far back in the
chimney corner, in order to avoid, as much as possible, the drafts which
seemed to steal upon one from all quarters; but as it grew dusk I threw
it aside, and fell into a state of musing, which must have lasted some
considerable time, since I found afterward that my pipe, which I had
just filled, was empty when I roused myself. The immediate cause of my
arousal is the point of my tale, which is most interesting and curious.
I was, as I said, sitting far in the chimney recess--where the light of
the fire, which made more or less visible the whole of the room, was
unable to penetrate--and was speculating on the various objects of
interest the place contained, when a door at the farther end of the room
was cautiously opened, and a figure arrayed in a garment of white
noiselessly entered and glided over the stone floor. It came straight
across the apartment, and casting a furtive glance round, took from its
place on the wall what in the distance seemed a long dagger, and in
another moment it was gone--disappearing, it would seem, behind the
tapestry hangings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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