A Stolen Name; Or, The Man Who Defied Nick Carter

by Nicholas Carter

There were extras of the morning papers on the streets, in which the full particulars were given, and summed up into one paragraph, an epitome of the accounts of the crime was about like this:

Turnieff had been one of the guests at the reception given last night by Countess Narnine, at her home in K Street. There had been another guest there who had arrived and departed within less than an hour. That guest had been seen by many persons, but was not personally known to any of them save the countess herself. That he passed under the name of Carter, was admitted, but no first name was given, and the countess asserted that she did not remember it. It was said that the man called Carter had in some way given offense to the countess, although she utterly refused to discuss that point with any person. It was sufficient, however, that she had asked him to leave her house, and a servant had shown the man to the door.

Colonel Alexis Turnieff, supposed to have been a witness to the affront offered the countess and avowedly in love with her, although hopelessly so, had followed the stranger from the house. The two had met in the street outside; there had been words and a hand-to-hand struggle. At the end of it, Turnieff had fallen to the pavement, stabbed to the heart, and he had never spoken again.

Three men—their names were given—passing along the avenue at the opposite side had seen the beginning and the end of the struggle. At first they had not thought to interfere, but finally had rushed forward, just at the moment when Turnieff had fallen, stabbed to death by the man with whom he had been fighting.

Even then the three men had not suspected what had happened. They supposed that Turnieff had merely been knocked down and had rushed to his assistance; but on attempting to lift him to his feet, they discovered that he had received his death wound.

They had called for help. Two other men, unknown to them till then, had rushed to their assistance, and the five together had endeavored to hold the murderer. But the strength of the man had proven to be prodigious. He had torn himself away from them. He had piled them into a heap upon the pavement. He had made his escape.

Then other men came to the rescue, among them two policemen. They had pursued the murderer; but that terrible man had made good his escape and disappeared.

The city was being scoured for him. Every nook and corner of it was being searched. A fairly good description of him had been obtained, and the chief of police gave it as his opinion that the fellow would quickly be apprehended.

In the meantime the “murderer”—that terrible fellow who had thrown five men into an ignominious heap on the pavement had made good his escape, although for a time it seemed that it might be impossible for him to do so.

Nick Carter had never been in quite such a predicament as that one, and he realized on the instant that he decided to run for it, that his reputation would not save him. His life, or at least his liberty, would be sworn away by those five hired assassins who had taken advantage of the opportunity offered to rid the principals who hired them, of a man who had become obnoxious.