Nick Carter Stories No. 157, September 11, 1915: A human counterfeit; or, Nick Carter and the crook's double. — John Shaqi
Nick Carter Stories No. 157, September 11, 1915: A human counterfeit; or, Nick Carter and the crook's double.Carter, Nicholas (House name)
General
Nick Carter Stories No. 157, September 11, 1915: A human counterfeit; or, Nick Carter and the crook's double.
Carter, Nicholas (House name)
Detective and mystery stories, American -- Periodicals; Popular literature -- Periodicals
“Yes. I had to put up some argument, however, and his bondsmen a cool
thirty thousand dollars,” said Nick, laughing a bit grimly. “I promised
Judge Sadler that I would find the real crooks and recover the jewels,
or, rather, I predicted it, and it now is up to us to make good.”
“Make good, chief, is right,” declared Patsy. “I’m on nettles to get at
it, for fair, if I only knew where and how to begin.”
“The way will open,” Nick replied confidently.
“What’s your big idea, chief?”
“This job was done by some one living in the hotel.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m sure of it. No outsider could have accomplished it. It was done too
quickly. The entire trick was turned in twenty minutes.”
“That’s right, too,” nodded Patsy.
“Nor could an outsider have got away with both jewel cases, taken
separately, without being seen by some one in the house. The crook is a
guest in the hotel, so are probably his confederates.”
“Do you think the stranger who talked with Clayton had a hand in the
job?” Chick asked.
“Undoubtedly. His part was to detain Clayton in his private office until
the rascal who impersonated Clayton could turn the trick.”
“But, by Jove, it seems incredible that Clayton could have been
impersonated,” Chick said doubtfully. “It’s not easy to counterfeit a
smooth-shaved man of his type. Especially under such circumstances. He
got by at least a dozen persons who are well acquainted with Clayton.
Besides, Vernon noticed his garments, his necktie, and his carbuncle
pin. By Jove, it seems incredible.”
Nick emphasized his reply by thumping his desk with his knuckles.
“Clayton either is guilty, or he is not,” said he. “I feel sure he is
not. If I am right, and I’m going to bank the limit on it, he was
impersonated by some one. You must admit that.”
“Certainly,” Chick allowed. “That goes without saying.”
“It is confirmed, moreover, by what occurred three months ago.”
“Clayton’s abduction?”
“Yes.”
“How do you now size it up?”
“It’s as plain as twice two,” said Nick. “That job was pulled off only
to pave the way for this one. Clayton was abducted to be studied, that
his voice, manner, facial expressions, every outside detail of him, in
fact, might be perfectly imitated. You remember, Chick, that he sensed
the frequent and stealthy espionage of some person whom he did not see.”
“Yes, indeed, I remember.”
“That unknown spy, take it from me, was the crook who to-day
impersonated Clayton,” Nick added.
“Well, possibly.”
“Bear in mind, too, that Clayton was deprived of his outside clothing
during the entire three days of his mysterious captivity. His pin was
duplicated in the meantime, and a suit of clothing precisely matching
his was obtained. I learned, when I questioned him privately after his
mother was revived and the circumstances explained to her, that he
to-day had on the very suit he wore at the time of his abduction.”
“By Jove, that is quite significant,” Chick admitted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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