NICK CARTER STORIES _Issued Weekly. Entered as Second-class Matter at the New York Post Office, by_ STREET & SMITH, _79-89 Seventh Ave., New York. Copyright, 1915, by_ STREET & SMITH. _O. G. Smith and G. C. Smith, Proprietors._ Terms to NICK CARTER STORIES Mail Subscribers. (_Postage Free._) Single Copies or Back Numbers, 5c. Each. 3 months 65c. 4 months 85c. 6 months $1.25 One Year 2.50 2 copies one year 4.00 1 copy two years 4.00 =How to Send Money=--By post-office or express money order, registered letter, bank check or draft, at our risk. At your own risk if sent by currency, coin, or postage stamps in ordinary letter. =Receipts=--Receipt of your remittance is acknowledged by proper change of number on your label. If not correct you have not been properly credited, and should let us know at once. =No. 123.= NEW YORK, January 16, 1915. =Price Five Cents.= HALF A MILLION RANSOM; Or, NICK CARTER AND THE NEEDY NINE. Edited by CHICKERING CARTER. CHAPTER I. THE WOMAN WHO FAINTED. Nick Carter caught sight of the couple only by chance. His touring car, in which he was seated with his chauffeur and Patsy Garvan, his junior assistant, was speeding through one of the winding driveways in Central Park, New York, and heading for Fifty-ninth Street. “Hold on! Slow down, Danny!” he cried to his chauffeur. “That woman has fainted, or is in a fit.” The woman was lying on the greensward near a diverging driveway, and some fifty yards from where Danny Maloney, startled by the detective’s sudden sharp commands, brought the touring car to a quick stop. A girl in a white apron and a starched linen cap was bending over the woman and gazing around affrightedly, uncertain what to do. Seeing the car stop and the detectives alighting, she suppressed a scream for help and awaited their approach. “She is down and out, chief, for fair,” said Patsy, while they ran toward the couple. “Fainted, most likely,” said Nick tersely. “If more serious, we’ll rush her to the nearest physician, or call an ambulance.” “By Jove, she’s getting up!” cried Patsy. “It’s not so bad, chief, after all. She’s not completely in the soup.” They were rapidly approaching the couple while speaking. The nurse, or governess, for such the young woman appeared to be, had arisen and was assisting the other to her feet. She was a well-dressed woman of thirty-five, with an abundance of wavy auburn hair and rather thin features, fairly prepossessing, but then quite pale. She was wiping a white froth from her lips, and appeared weak and confused.