Nick Carter Stories No. 156, September 4, 1915: Blood Will Tell; or, Nick Carter's Play in PoliticsCarter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 156, September 4, 1915: Blood Will Tell; or, Nick Carter's Play in Politics
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
Nick now felt reasonably sure, too, since learning that Cora Cavendish
had sent the three crooks out there, that Patsy must have got on her
track before that was done, and he was borrowing no trouble as to the
outcome of his own situation.
The only point that Nick now wanted to clear up, in fact, was the
precise relations that had existed between Madison and this gang of
thugs, and he knew that he was in a fair way of doing so.
John Madison had not stirred from the swivel chair in which he was
seated. Nor had he spoken, or even changed countenance, during the
vicious remarks that had passed between the several crooks. He really
appeared indifferent to them, and he now wore the grimly determined
aspect of a man who had made up his mind what to do, and had the nerve,
and stamina to do it.
Deland was quick to observe all this, and his evil eyes had an uglier
gleam when he resumed his seat at the desk to continue his talk with the
lawyer, while Daggett, Flynn, and Tobey occupied chairs near by.
“Now, Madison, let’s get right down to cases,” Deland began, whipping
out each word with ominous asperity. “I’ll say what I mean and you do
the same. You are up against one of two things. You’re going to settle
with us, as you agreed to do, or you’re going to be sent up for the
murder of Tilly Lancey. There’s no middle course for you.”
“H’m, I see,” thought Nick, already sizing up the situation. “No middle
course for him, eh? I’ll lay one out for him, then, unless I’m much
mistaken.”
Madison did not reply for a moment. He drew up his powerful figure a
little higher in his chair, and bestowed a frowning glance upon each of
the rascals confronting him. His gaze finally settled upon Deland’s evil
face, however, and remained there.
“I will be sent up for the murder of Tilly Lancey, will I?” he slowly
answered.
“That’s what you will,” Deland nodded. “That’s one course.”
“How can I be sent up for a crime that you scoundrels committed?”
“We’ll swear it onto you, and we have the stuff to fix it so it will
stay. I’ve got the bunch of letters you wrote to her. We’ll chuck them
in for evidence. We’ll frame you up, all right, and in a way that will
let us down dead easy. You can bank on that.”
“And bank on it good and strong, too,” put in Plugger Flynn, pounding
the desk top with his fingers.
“You fellows are a fine gang with which to do business,” said Madison,
with manifest contempt in his deep voice. “Either one of you would
double cross his own mother. I ought to have known it in the beginning,
but I was caught by the bait you threw me. The only other course is for
me to settle, you say?”
“You heard what I said,” snapped Deland.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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