[The cover names the book The Girl Kidnapper. The words kidnaper, kidnaped and kidnaping are spelled with one p through out the eBook.— Ebook transcriber's note.]

[Pg 1]

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.

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. 124. NEW YORK, January 23, 1915 Price Five Cents.

THE GIRL KIDNAPER;
Or, NICK CARTER’S UP-TO-DATE CLEW.

Edited by CHICKERING CARTER.

[Pg 2]

CHAPTER I.
THROUGH LOCKED DOORS.

“The thing seems impossible!�

“Yet it’s true.�

“You mean to tell me that——â€�

“I mean to tell you that Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich, who retired to her room in this hotel last night at eleven o’clock, was not there this morning when her maid went to call her, and that her doors were all bolted and locked, with the keys inside.�

“What about the windows?�

“Mrs. van Dietrich’s rooms are on the fourth floor.�

“Well?�

“She did not jump out, Mallory, if that’s what you mean. They overlook the sea, and there are jagged rocks immediately beneath her windows. She would surely have been killed if she had gone that way. Anyhow, she is a well-balanced woman, who enjoys life, and a multimillionaire. Why should she commit suicide?�

“I don’t know why she should, Savage. That’s nothing. Seventy-five out of a hundred suicides seem to have no good reason behind them—until investigation is made afterward.â€�

“She did not jump out of the window, I tell you.�

“Perhaps she fell out,� suggested Mallory, sticking to his guns.

“She neither jumped nor fell out,� snapped the other. “The rocks would tell the story if she had.�

James Mallory and Paul Savage, proprietors of the new summer hotel, the Amsterdam—situated on a picturesque promontory on the Delaware coast, with the broad Atlantic stretching away from its very foundation walls—faced each other blankly in their private office.

It was well on in the morning, and two weeks after the opening of the hotel, and judicious advertising had resulted in the house being comfortably full already. The[Pg 3] rooms—some single, but mostly en suite—had been engaged largely in advance, and the guests were practically all of the well-to-do class, with a fair sprinkling of very wealthy.

Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich was not the only multimillionaire, for there were several others.

Mallory was a stout, imposing-looking man, always immaculately attired, and with a suave manner that had perhaps led in the first place to his becoming a “promoter.� Assuredly it had helped him when fairly launched in that interesting occupation. His very appearance was a guarantee that the company he represented was sound and certain to pay healthy dividends to the stockholders.

Paul Savage, his partner, was a cadaverous individual, with many lines about his lank jaw and the hunted look in his deep-set eyes which one often sees in the hard-working business man, whose talent is mainly for detail.

The two men had been associated in various schemes for years. Some of them had turned out well, while others had not. Now they had plunged on this hotel scheme, got a company behind them, and were hoping that, when the time came for them to “unload,� they would find themselves with enough money to rest on their oars while selecting some new enterprise, which would promise even better than this.

On this morning, Mallory had been sitting behind his desk, swelling with satisfaction as he figured on the profits that would result from the guests who already were in the house, if they stayed a week or two longer, without counting others that might come.

He had just been reading a letter he had received a week ago from a certain Baroness Latour, who had engaged a suite of rooms, insisting that they must look out over the sea. The price was not so much an object, as her having pleasant rooms, with a clear ocean view.

“Well,� Mallory had muttered, “the baroness has rooms right over the cliff. That ought to suit her. I hope she[Pg 4] slept well last night. There is a clear drop from her window of forty-five feet to the water, at least. The waves wash against the wall of the house on that side.�

He had got to this stage of his musings when Paul Savage burst in with the news that Mrs. van Dietrich had disappeared in so inexplicable a way from her apartments.

How a rather large lady, of dignified aspect and deliberate movement, could have been spirited from her bed and carried out of the house, without anybody being aware of it, was something that neither of the partners could comprehend.

“If her doors had been unfastened,� grunted Savage, “there might have been some explanation. But all of them are locked and bolted within.�

“She’d gone to bed, you say?�

“So her maid says. But she had dressed herself before she went away.�

“That shows she wasn’t kidnaped,� remarked Mallory.

“It doesn’t show anything,� rejoined Savage. “How do you account for the doors being fastened inside, with the keys left in the locks in the rooms? You don’t suppose a lady leaving her rooms would have somebody inside to bolt and lock the doors and then get out of the window in a flying machine, do you?�

“Where is the maid?� asked Mallory.

“In hysterics in the housekeeper’s room,� was the disgusted reply. “She and the housekeeper got in with the housekeeper’s master key, and after one look at Mrs. van Dietrich’s bed, the girl darted at her employer’s trunks, of which she had the keys, and searched through them. All the jewelry was gone.�

“H’m! Perhaps the maid——â€�

“She had never left her own room from the time she went there, after putting her mistress to bed, until she went to call Mrs. van Dietrich this morning. We have the testimony of the maid who shares the room with her for that. This maid was awake with the toothache, practically all night, and she knows the other one never left the room.�

“Have you done anything about it?� asked Mallory.

“Yes,� was the reply. “I heard about this thing two hours ago.�

“You did? Why didn’t you tell me?�

“What would have been the use? I thought I might find out, by quiet investigation, before I came to you. Only the housekeeper and the maid, Mary Cook, know Mrs. van Dietrich is gone. After ten minutes’ inquiry and examination, I decided it was too much for us alone, and I wired to New York for Nicholas Carter.�

“The big detective, eh? That was a good move, Paul. I only hope he’ll come. What did you say in the message?�

“Told him an important case was here for him, and that we would pay any fee. He could name his own figure. But it was urgent, and would he come at once?�

“Two hours since you sent that to him in New York?�

“A little more than two hours. But I’ve had no answer. If he’d start at once, he could be here by evening.�

“Perhaps he isn’t at home.�

“That’s what I’m afraid of. He’s the only man I can think of who would be likely to make anything of this. It’s too much for the average policeman. Indeed——â€�

A rap at the door of the office made Paul Savage step to[Pg 5] the door with an irritable wrinkling upon his lean face of a score of lines which had not been there before, while James Mallory growled from behind his desk.

“Oh, Colonel Pearson?â€� ejaculated Savage, with forced toleration, as he found himself face to face with one of the house’s guests. “Is there anything——â€�

Colonel Pearson was a cleanly built, soldierly looking man, with broad shoulders and a remarkably keen face. The dark eyes had a way of looking through anybody on whom they rested. At least, that was the conclusion to which Paul Savage had come. He was in summer attire, and had the calm insouciance of the wealthy man of leisure.

“I have received a telegram,� remarked the colonel, holding up a crumpled yellow paper. “It has only just got to me. I came at once to see what it was all about.�

“Telegram? I have only sent one since I have been here, and that was to a person in New York.�

The colonel smiled.

“Exactly. You sent it to a person who was supposed to be in New York. But it happens that he was much nearer.�

“I don’t understand,� faltered Savage.

“I don’t, either,� added Mallory, who had been sitting behind his desk, listening in bewilderment. “Do you know anything about that person, Colonel Pearson?�

“If you will permit me to close the door,� was the response, “I will tell you.�

He shut the door and slipped the bolt into place. Then, as he approached the desk to which Paul Savage had retreated, as if seeking the moral support of his partner, he said quietly:

“You telegraphed Nicholas Carter, at his home in Madison Avenue, New York, to come here quickly, on an important case. That is how this telegram reads,� he adds, as he smoothed out the yellow paper and looked at it. “I have only to say that, though I chose to be known here as Colonel Pearson, since I came to enjoy a short vacation, my real name is Nicholas Carter, and I live in Madison Avenue, New York.�

“You Nicholas Carter?� gasped Savage. “Why, I thought Carter was an altogether different sort of man.�

“I understand,� laughed Nick. “You did not bargain for my being here, in light clothes and white canvas shoes, with a golf club in my hand. It did not occur to you that I might be an everyday man. You thought that, as a detective, I should wear a lowering look and salute you with a mysterious ‘Hist!’ when you opened the door just now.�

“Not exactly, but——â€�

“Yet a detective must be allowed his play time, like any other man,� continued Nick. “I have just been playing golf with the Baroness Latour. She is an early riser, as I am, and when I chanced to meet her on the links, we agreed to play together, instead of singly. So we have done nine holes. It was a drawn game. Here is your telegram. It was redirected to me, in my assumed name of Colonel Pearson, to this hotel, as you see, by my assistant.�

Paul Savage continued to look steadily at the calm face of the detective, as if not quite satisfied. But Mallory broke in, with an impatient grunt:

“Of course, you have no idea what induced us to send for you, Mr. Carter?[Pg 6]�

“It has to do with the disappearance of Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich, has it not?�

“Why, how did you know?� demanded Savage. “Not a word has been said about it outside of this office and the housekeeper’s room. We have been very careful to keep any inkling of the affair from our guests.�

The detective glanced at him quickly, and there was a narrowing of the dark eyes which told of swift thinking.

“Indeed? Are you sure nothing has got out about it?� he asked.

“Quite. There are four persons who know about Mrs. van Dietrich’s disappearance: My partner, Mr. Mallory, the housekeeper, and Mrs. van Dietrich’s maid. That is all. Well, there is one more—yourself, of course. We did not know that you had found it out. We don’t understand how you did it, either.â€�

“Well, I prefer not to tell you that just now,� answered Nick Carter. “That is, if you desire me to take this case.�

“We most certainly do,� declared Paul Savage earnestly.

CHAPTER II.
BITS OF EVIDENCE.

“Sit down, won’t you, Mr. Carter?�

James Mallory, who had been so interested in gazing at the great detective as to forget the ordinary amenities, offered this invitation. Getting up from his own chair behind the flat-topped desk, he placed one for the visitor, with a propitiatory smile.

“Now, what is the first move, Mr. Carter?� asked Paul Savage, as they settled down.

“Let me go over the particulars, as they have come to me,� replied Nick. “We will see if they agree with the information you have.�

“Good idea!� commended Mallory.

“To begin with, Mrs. van Dietrich was put to bed by her maid, Mary Cook, about eleven o’clock last night. The maid sleeps on the sixth floor, at the top of the house. Mrs. van Dietrich’s three rooms and bath are on the fourth.�

“That’s correct,� nodded Savage.

“At eight o’clock this morning, Mary Cook went to awaken her employer, according to her custom. She could not make the lady hear, and she got scared. So she went to the housekeeper, Mrs. Joyce, and told her she was afraid Mrs. van Dietrich was sick. Mrs. Joyce went with her, and, with her master key, unlocked the door, and, also, with another key, shot back the bolt.�

“That’s the way I got it,â€� breathed Paul Savage. “Though how you managed to get it so exact——â€�

“When the two women went into the room, they found the bed had been slept in, and Mrs. van Dietrich’s nightgown had been thrown carelessly across it. The windows were closed, except for a few inches at the top, for ventilation. This was the case in all three rooms, and the ventilator in the bathroom was open, as usual.�

“There were no signs of a struggle,� remarked Savage.

“So I understand,â€� assented Nick. “Another thing is that the clothes which Mrs. van Dietrich wore the day before went with her. She must have dressed herself—or been dressed by somebody else—before going away.â€�

“That is all true, as I got it,� observed Paul Savage. “But there is another point, which you have not mentioned.[Pg 7]�

“And that is——â€�

“All the jewelry in her trunks was taken out, although the trunks were locked when the maid examined them this morning. The girl had the keys.�

“Oh, she had?�

The intonation with which the detective made this remark caused Savage to shake his head decidedly.

“I understand,� went on Nick. “You mean there is no suspicion attaching to the maid? Well, I am of the same opinion. You have not been able to find the slightest clew, have you?�

“None.�

“Have any of the guests left the hotel this morning? I mean, left altogether?�

“No. All of them will stay with us for several days, at least, so I expect. They are here to enjoy the quietude and beauty of the place. They are not transients, such as you find in city hotels.�

“None of them have given notice to leave, have they?� continued Nick, disregarding the encomium on the hotel and its surroundings.

“I don’t think so. Are there any, Mallory?� asked Savage, turning to his partner.

“I haven’t heard of any. I’ll ask the clerk, if you like. The phone is right here,� replied Mallory, laying a hand upon his desk telephone.

“That is not necessary,� declared the detective. “I have already asked him. I came through the office to this room, and I picked up what information I could on the way.�

“You’re a pretty good picker, too, I should say,� remarked Mallory, with a grin. “You seem to know about all we have found out.�

“If any of the guests say they are going to leave, I wish you’d let me know at once,� requested Nick, as he got up from his chair. “I’ll go and send a telegram to New York. Then I should like to look at Mrs. van Dietrich’s rooms. They haven’t been disturbed, I hope.�

“No. I gave orders that no one should go into them after the maid had looked at the trunks. Mrs. Joyce has her own keys, and she has fastened all the doors as they were before, except that she had to knock out one of the keys that had been left in the bedroom door, so that she could put in her own.�

“That’s good. I’ll send a message by telephone to the telegraph office at Dorset, from one of the booths in the lobby. I’ll be right back.�

The detective telephoned the message, as he had said, directed to his assistant Chick, in Madison Avenue, New York. He told Chick to come down to the Hotel Amsterdam at once, and to bring the bloodhound, Captain—which had done so much effective police work for them at various times—with him.

Nick Carter knew perfectly well that Mallory, or Savage, had taken the receiver off the hook in their office, and were listening to him over the wire.

That did not disturb him. He had rather expected it, and his object in telegraphing from the booth, instead of from their office, as he might have done, was to satisfy himself that they would descend to the meanness of “listening in� to a private message.

He strolled back to their office when he had dispatched his telegram, and when the door was opened, stood on the threshold with a smile as he told them he was ready to go to the room of the vanished Mrs. van Dietrich.[Pg 8]

“One moment,� he added, as they were about to come forth. “I should like to say something to you with the door closed.�

He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him, and said, in an earnest whisper:

“Let me impress one thing upon you, gentlemen. I understand that you are anxious to keep any knowledge of this strange disappearance from your patrons, and also that you would not like it in the newspapers?�

“The newspapers?â€� fairly shrieked James Mallory. “That would settle us. I believe if I saw a reporter around this hotel, I would fling him out of the window into the sea. And, of course, we must not let our guests know. It would give the hotel a fearful black eye—although it is no fault of ours.â€�

“Very well,� observed Nick. “Then be careful that no one suspects my identity. I am Colonel Pearson, remember. If any one outside of yourselves were to know who I am, there would be no use my going on with the case.�

“You can depend on us keeping it a secret,� asserted Savage promptly. “We are too anxious for you to solve the mystery to throw any obstacles in your way.�

“That’s what!� added Mallory. “What do you think of it all?�

“We have seen the effect,� returned Nick, “and we know that it must have a cause.�

“That’s all right. But what is the cause?� growled Savage.

“The cause is never less than the effect,� continued the detective. “Therefore, arguing by the importance of the effect, we must look for a fairly powerful cause. Now, let’s go up to the fourth floor.�

The elevator man evidently had not heard of anything unusual in the hotel, for he merely glanced at the two partners and the gentleman he had come to know as Colonel Pearson, and when he was told to let them off at the fourth floor, he did so without emotion.

“That’s good,� remarked Nick, as they walked along the thickly carpeted corridor. “I can see that the incident concerning Mrs. van D. has not become common property. Is this the door?�

Savage nodded and opened a door with his master key, ushered them into a sitting room, and closed the door behind them.

Nick Carter walked on to the bedroom, and after a cursory glance at the bed, went to the window.

Drawing from his pocket a powerful magnifying glass, he proceeded to examine every inch of the window sill, working in a series of imaginary squares.

The two partners watched him curiously, but he took no notice of them. When he had finished his minute inspection of the sill and frame, he threw up the window and leaned out.

“You have made careful examination of the rocks under this window, I presume?� he asked.

“Yes. We have gone over them thoroughly,� replied Savage. “There is nothing there.�

“Ah! Whose rooms are those that overlook the water on this same floor? I see there is no shore or rocks at all there. The house seems to have been built straight out of the sea.�

James Mallory walked to the window and looked out. He shook his head.[Pg 9]

“Come over here, Savage,� he said. “I don’t know what rooms they are. You know, don’t you?�

“Yes,� answered his partner, putting out his head and looking along the rows of windows. “That window, where the curtain is blowing out, and the next one, are number forty-eight. A lady occupies the suite. Let me see! Oh, yes! the Baroness Latour.�

“Indeed?� remarked Nick Carter carelessly. “She’s a very charming young lady. We were playing golf together this morning, as I told you. Now, let me have a look at this room door.�

Turning the key, he swung the door open a few inches.

“You’d better stand outside, Mr. Mallory,� he suggested. “If anybody comes along and seems curious, you can say that I am repairing the lock. Tell them that Colonel Pearson makes a hobby of this sort of thing. I’ll keep out of sight as much as possible, however.�

Nick pushed the door nearly shut, and kneeling inside the room, he drew out the key and inspected it closely through his magnifying glass. Then he examined the bolt and keyhole, and kept at it for ten minutes.

“Come in, Mr. Mallory,� he requested, through the narrow opening between the door and the jamb. “I’m through with the door for the present.�

To the surprise of both partners, he dropped to his knees, and, with the aid of his glass, began to go over the carpet in a series of imaginary squares, just as he had done at the window.

It was half an hour before he had finished this task. By that time he was under an electric light which hung near the bed, for the convenience of guests who might like to read after retiring.

A gas jet protruded from the wall near it. Here Nick picked up the burned end of a wax match.

He seemed to attach some importance to this trifle, for he arose to his feet with the fragment of match in his hand and asked the partners:

“What kind of matches do you provide in this hotel?�

“Why—er—just the ordinary wood safety matches, with the name of the hotel on the box. They are put in every room, for the use of smokers, and also to light the gas when a guest does not want to use the electric light. Some people like a lowered gas jet in the room all night, you know.â€�

“Do you use wax matches at all?�

Mallory shook his head and turned to Savage, who, as already remarked, was the detail man of the concern.

“Have we any of those matches, Savage?�

“None in the house, that I know of,� was the short reply. “Have you found out anything, Mr. Carter?�

“Nothing that I can report, Mr. Savage,� Nick answered. “It is too early to say one thing or another yet. I will say, however, that, in my opinion, the person responsible for the vanishing of Mrs. van Dietrich is living in the hotel.�

“A servant?� asked Mallory anxiously.

“That remains to be seen,� returned the detective, with a shrug. “It is also certain that there are accomplices on the outside. I will go to my room and think things over. After luncheon I will go into the case further. If anything comes to your knowledge that seems likely to be useful, you will find me in my room. Keep up your nerve, gentlemen, and, above all things, keep your own counsel. Strict secrecy, remember.[Pg 10]�

Once in his own room, Nick Carter lighted one of his favorite perfectos, of which he had brought a box with him, and settled down to think over the mystery that had so unexpectedly faced him in a place where he might have supposed he could rest and enjoy a vacation in peace.

He smoked in silence for an hour, with the key of Mrs. van Dietrich’s bedroom and the half-burned wax match in his fingers. He examined them alternately through the magnifying glass and tried to build a hypothesis on either one or the other, or both.

Suddenly there was a sharp rap at his door. As he opened it, James Mallory stepped inside and stared at him with blinking eyes, while his heavy cheeks, usually beet red, were a yellowish white.

“What’s the matter?� demanded Nick Carter sharply.

“More trouble!� blurted out Mallory. “It seems as if the foul fiend himself is taking a hand in running this hotel.�

“Never mind about that!� interrupted the detective impatiently. “What is the specific trouble now?�

“Another of our guests has mysteriously disappeared,� wailed Mallory. “Mr. Harvey L. Drago, the big Wall Street banker.�

“Disappeared?� cried Nick Carter. “How? From his bedroom?�

“No. From the golf links!�

“That so? This is getting interesting,� observed Nick. “Sit down and tell me all about it, Mr. Mallory.�

CHAPTER III.
LONG-DISTANCE OBSERVATIONS.

Accepting the cigar that Nick Carter offered by pushing the box toward him on the table, James Mallory bit off the end in a distracted way, but did not light it. Instead, he used the unlighted cigar to emphasize the points of his narration by waving it about as he talked.

“Mr. Drago is one of the most influential men we have,� he began. “He is very wealthy, and he is a free spender. Then he is not old, and he is the sort of man who starts things in a social way and keeps them going afterward. You know how I mean, Mr. Carter?�

“Yes. Go on.�

“He went out to the golf links early this morning, saying he would be back for luncheon about twelve. He did not come, and we sent a boy over to the links to see why. The caddie says Mr. Drago left the links about eleven. He was going to walk back to the hotel by way of the beach. That is two hours ago. We can’t find the slightest trace of him.�

“Strange!� murmured Nick.

“It will be ruin for us, Mr. Carter,� declared Mallory. “Can’t you do something?�

“You have told me all you know? Isn’t there anything else you’ve discovered which might serve as a clew?�

“Not a thing. Mr. Drago walked through the lobby this morning, pleasant, as usual. He spoke to two or three people as he went along. I was one of them, as a matter of fact. He seemed to be in good spirits, and he said he intended to play the whole eighteen holes.�

“And that’s the last you saw of him? Was any one else playing this morning?�

“Several. They saw him make the whole round, and the caddie says he was in good form, and played a fine game.[Pg 11] I don’t know what his score was, exactly. I believe the caddie said he did it in——â€�

“Never mind about that,� laughed Nick. “That wouldn’t help me to trace him. What I want to get at is how he came to be kidnaped in broad daylight. This is as queer as the Mrs. van Dietrich case. I’ll go down to lunch, and take up the whole matter afterward.�

He slipped a pair of powerful field glasses into a pocket, and went down with Mallory.

Paul Savage was at the foot of the elevator, but the detective put him off as he was beginning to whisper a long story of woe into his ears, by telling him that he knew all about it.

“I’ll tell you when I learn something,� he added, turning away to enter the ornate restaurant.

His luncheon over—and the detective disposed of a good one, as a matter of principle—Nick strode out to the golf links and got hold of the caddie who had been with Drago.

The links were a mile from the hotel.

Nothing more was to be learned from the caddie than the detective already knew. So he took a pathway which ran through a wood, coming out on the sandy beach, edged by rocks.

Coming to a bit of rising ground, Nick stood there and surveyed the prospect. He was thinking all the time. Much as he admired beautiful scenery for its own sake, he would not have stopped now to look around had he not had some ulterior object.

The really fine links stretched behind him, the clubhouse showing above trees in the distance. On the right were the woods, with the hotel towering on the edge of the cliff, three-quarters of a mile away. To the left were other woods, and in front rolled the blue waters, with the white-capped surf, of the Atlantic Ocean.

In the great curving bay, immediately in front of the hotel, but some distance out, was a steam yacht, her white hull and plentiful brasswork gleaming in the bright sunshine.

Nick Carter stood in deep thought for several minutes. After discarding the possibility of Drago having been spirited away in a motor car, for the simple reason that the only approach to the sea path, which the missing man had taken, was by way of the links, where a machine must have been seen, the detective sought another explanation.

“There are two ways in which it might be done,â€� he mused. “A man might be waylaid in the shelter of the woods and carried through them to the main road. Another way—and perhaps the most likely—would be by the sea. You can’t see the beach from here on account of the rocks. A boat could sneak up and get away without being seen by any one on shore.â€�

It seemed to Nick that either of these two methods must have been employed, and he was trying to settle in his own mind which one was the more likely, when his gaze fell upon the yacht out in the bay.

He had noticed it many times before. But now it took on a new significance in the light of the theory he had formed with regard to Harvey L. Drago’s disappearance.

“What’s that yacht doing out there?� he muttered. “Who is her owner? Any one living in the hotel? That seems likely, although she was there when I came here, day before yesterday. I don’t remember to have seen any[Pg 12] communication with her from the shore. She may only have put in there for shelter, or repairs.�

The detective was a yachtsman himself, and took a deep interest in all kinds of craft. Dropping behind a bush and lying almost at full length, he trained his field glasses on the yacht.

With the eye of a sailor, as well as of a keen investigator, he studied the graceful vessel thoroughly from bow to stern, and from water line to the tops of tapering masts and white smokestack.

“She looks familiar to me in a general way,� he reflected. “There is something about her general lines that I seem to recognize. But I can’t identify her as any boat I know. I’ll ask at the hotel. Somebody there may know something about her. Of course, it is not remarkable for a pleasure boat to be anchored in a beautiful bay like this. Still, no harm will be done by my asking.�

He got up and climbed slowly to the little eminence whereon he had stood before, as a new idea came to him. Having reached the top of the small, spreading hill, he dropped flat upon the ground, the field glasses in his fingers.

“If I am not mistaken,â€� was his inward remark, “I can see the hotel well from here with the glasses. I’ll take a squint at that little cove under the windows of the room occupied by the baroness. From here it looks as if they must be nearly in line with the yacht. That may not mean anything—but then, again, it may.â€�

Nick Carter swept the glasses over the cove. Then he gradually brought them to bear on the windows of the rooms occupied by Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich until she departed into the unknown so strangely.

He allowed his glasses to wander from room to room and from floor to floor, until they finally came to rest on the window of the sitting room belonging to the dashing young lady with whom he had played golf that morning—the Baroness Latour.

Nothing at this window interested him, and he was just about to return to his scrutiny of the cove, when he saw a woman come forward in the room and throw up the sash. It was the baroness.

“I don’t blame her for opening her window on such a beautiful afternoon,� thought Carter. “The peculiar thing is that she should have had it closed at all. Hello! What’s she doing now?�

Baroness Latour—looking more charming than ever, Nick thought, in her afternoon gown—had disappeared from the window. Now she returned with a peculiar-looking box in her hands.

She settled it firmly on the window sill, and as she did so, the puzzled frown that had wrinkled up the forehead of the detective passed away. He saw what the box really was.

“Great Scott!â€� came from his lips, in an excited whisper. “What does the Baroness Latour want with a wireless telephone? Who is she talking to? The only thing I can see in line with her is the yacht. Is it possible that she is having a conversation with somebody on board? If so, why? That’s the question—why?â€�

He settled himself to gaze through his glasses more at his ease, as well as to make sure he was right as to the nature of the box on the baroness’ window sill.

“It strikes me, my charming friend, that you may be here for some other purpose than to play golf and take part in the evening ‘hops’ in the hotel. Your actions at[Pg 13] the window are unusual enough to make me curious, at all events. I’ll telegraph to New York for my own wireless telephone. Signor Marconi may be just as useful to me as to you, with this new and wonderful invention of his. Meanwhile, since we have already made acquaintance with each other, I shall venture to ask you to dine with me this evening. If you decline—well, I must hit on something else.â€�

The baroness removed the machine from her window at this instant, and pulled down the sash.

Nick Carter got to his feet, and strolled thoughtfully back to the hotel.

CHAPTER IV.
A DINNER WITH NICK CARTER.

The Baroness Latour sat at a little writing table behind the lace curtains in her sitting room, making notes in a dainty memorandum book. Occasionally she peered through the fine web of the curtain at the handsome white yacht gently rising and falling on the swell in the bay.

A knock at the door, and her maid took a note from a bell boy and handed it to the baroness.

“The boy is waiting for an answer,� said the maid.

“Very well, Florine. I’ll see what it is.�

The baroness started with uncontrollable astonishment when she found that the letter was a respectful request from Colonel Pearson that she would give him the pleasure of dining at his table that evening.

“Well, who would have thought this?� she murmured. “Colonel Pearson, eh? Indeed, I’ll dine with him.�

She wrote a note of acceptance in a firm, but entirely feminine hand, and sealed the envelope with golden wax, stamped with a large “L.�

“I rather think that ‘L’ is convincing,� she said to herself, with a smile, as she handed the letter to Florine, to give to the waiting bell boy.

“Keep the doors closed, Florine,� she ordered. “You can stay in the room. Give me that telephone instrument.�

With Florine’s assistance, she placed the wireless-telephone apparatus again on the sill, and, after a few moments of ineffective endeavor, got a ticking that told her she was in communication with the yacht which had awakened so much curiosity in Nick Carter.

Her conversation was very brief, but she contrived to give orders in a few words, which, under certain conditions, would carry out some very important work.

“There, Mr. Nicholas Carter!â€� she murmured, as she motioned to Florine to help her in removing the apparatus from the window. “I don’t know how you have grown suspicious. But I can’t explain your invitation on any other supposition. If you are not suspicious, nothing will happen. If you are—well, we shall see.â€�

Among the well-dressed women who dined in the brilliantly lighted restaurant of the Hotel Amsterdam that evening, there was none more strikingly beautiful or aristocratic than the Baroness Latour.

Her costume was the last word in fashion and costly material, and she wore it like a queen. Her jewelry was dazzling.

Sitting opposite, at the small table set for two, was Nick Carter. His strong, grave face, lighted up by those wonderful dark eyes of his, made him, in his correct even[Pg 14]ing dress, an effective foil to the radiant beauty of the fair young woman who was his guest.

As a thorough man of the world, Nick Carter knew how to order a dinner, and the waiter looked at him in profound respect when he had the list of dishes on his slip.

It will have been gathered that the Baroness Latour was not exactly what she appeared to be. In fact, she had considered it necessary to change her personal aspect long before she came to the Amsterdam and found that Nick Carter, under the name and title of Colonel Pearson, was a guest.

The name she had assumed was not that by which the detective had known her a year or so before.

For weeks she had been slowly and systematically disguising herself, and she had done it more effectively than would be thought possible by a person who did not appreciate what can be done with cosmetics, instruments, and lotions in these days.

A “beauty doctor� would have gone into transports over her artistic achievements in this way.

Paraffin injections had changed the contour of her whole face, and the shape of her hands had been modified by the same means. Her heavy coils of bronze hair had become dark brown, and she had even practiced speaking in a different cadence, to hide her ordinary tones.

The perfection of the disguise can be understood when it is said that Nick Carter had known the baroness very well under a different name, and would have recognized her instantly had not her real personality been absolutely concealed.

He had learned from Mallory that the baroness had engaged her rooms by telegraph from New Orleans, and that she had particularly stipulated that they should overlook the ocean.

Why had she been so insistent on this, and what had she been doing with that wireless telephone on the window sill?

The dinner over, Nick asked if she would accept a cigarette, at the same time offering his cigarette case.

“Thank you,� she replied sweetly. “I will smoke, but I prefer my own cigarettes, if you will permit me.�

Nick bowed, and drawing forth a cigarette for himself, looked for a match.

“Confound that waiter!� he exclaimed. “There are no matches on the table, and I don’t believe I have one in my pocket.�

“I have some,� smiled the baroness, who had been taking a costly, gold-tipped Turkish cigarette from a gold case. “Here!�

She took from her chatelaine a small gold match box—a companion piece to the cigarette case—and pressing open the cover, offered it to the detective.

He saw, as he took one of the wax matches in his fingers, that it was an exact duplicate of the burned match he had picked up in the bedroom of Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich that morning.

Wax matches generally are more or less alike, but these were much thicker than most of them.

He was obliged to drop his eyes to veil the gleam of excitement in them. Then, coolly striking the match, he held it until the baroness’ cigarette was going.

When he lighted his own, he blew out the match and dropped it carelessly to the floor at his feet.

“May I take a match or two from your box, in case of[Pg 15] emergency, until I get some,� he asked, smiling. Then, as she nodded assent, he continued: “When am I to have the pleasure of another round with you on the links?�

The baroness laughed gleefully, and she answered his questions by asking another:

“Do you do everything as seriously as you play golf, Colonel Pearson?�

“I suppose so,� smiled Nick. “It always seems to me that anything worth doing at all should be taken up earnestly.�

“I believe that, too,� she returned, still laughing. “I was only thinking that it was not unusual for you to find yourself pitted against women. Judging by the way you played this morning, I should say you respect the prowess of my sex, no matter how poorly they may play.�

“You are right, baroness,� admitted the detective. “I have played the game very often against women.�

“And do you always win?�

“Is that a fair question?�

“I was curious to know.�

“I did not win this morning.�

“But you didn’t lose,� she rejoined quickly. “So there is neither decided so far.�

“Perhaps we’d better leave it to the next game we shall play against each other,� suggested Nick, with a peculiar smile.

“Yes,� she assented gayly. “The next game we shall play. Do you think you will win that game, Colonel Pearson?�

“If I do, it won’t be for lack of a worthy adversary,� he replied, with a deep bow.

They chatted about golf and other things for another half hour. Then the baroness, after thanking “the colonel� for the pleasant evening he had afforded her, arose to go to her room.

Nick Carter accompanied her to the elevator. When the car had shot upward, he hurried back to the table where they had been sitting in the restaurant and picked up the half-burned wax match he had dropped after lighting his cigarette.

As he slipped the match into his waistcoat pocket, to keep company with the other two whole matches he had borrowed from Baroness Latour’s gold match box, he ran against James Mallory in the lobby.

“Can I have your head porter for an hour or two this evening, Mr. Mallory?� asked the detective, in a low tone. “I’ve noticed him around here. He’s the kind of husky chap I may need.�

“Why, what——â€�

“Never mind about talking it over, Mr. Mallory,� interrupted the detective, with a protesting smile. “Can I have the man?�

“Certainly! His name is Mike Corrigan. He is a good, dependable fellow, and strong enough for anything you are likely to ask of him. Moreover, he is not afraid of anything. If you will come to my office, I will have him come there.�

Mike Corrigan was quite willing to accompany Colonel Pearson anywhere, and after a few minutes’ conversation, it was arranged that Mike was to meet the detective in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

“Put a coat on,� directed Nick. “Have you such a thing as a revolver?�

“Never owned a gun in my life,� was Mike’s reply.[Pg 16]

“Never mind. I’ll bring one down for you. You can fire it off, I suppose, if it should become necessary?�

“I can that,� laughed Mike. “And swing a club, too.�

At this moment two telegrams were handed to Nick Carter. One was from his assistant, Chick, saying he was on his way to Delaware, with the bloodhound, Captain, and the other came from Joseph, Nick Carter’s head man-servant in his Madison Avenue home. This latter message read:

“According your instructions, have sent black steel box labeled number four on third shelf to left of door in laboratory.�

The detective went up to his room and put on a serviceable business suit in place of his evening clothes, with a warm cap that he could pull well down over his eyes. He kicked off his light patent-leather pumps and substituted a pair of heavy waterproof shoes.

Finally he covered himself up in a long overcoat, in the pockets of which he dropped two automatic pistols, fully charged.

Before leaving his room he compared the wax matches he had got from the baroness in the restaurant with the burned match he had picked up in Mrs. van Dietrich’s room. They were the same kind exactly.

“I see you’re there, all right, Mike,� he remarked cheerily, as the head porter walked up to him in the lobby. “Wait a moment, while I go in to see Mr. Mallory and Mr. Savage.�

He found both partners in their office, and bringing out the burned wax match, he said, in a businesslike, brief manner:

“I should like you, please, to examine the baggage of Mrs. van Dietrich and find out whether there are in it any wax matches like this. Also ask her maid, Mary Cook, if she or Mrs. van D. ever used such matches.�

“Very well,� answered Savage, picking up the burned match. “We will do it, of course. But I don’t see the point.�

“That makes no difference,â€� retorted Nick. “The point is important. Did you find out anything at the railroad station this afternoon—whether anybody from the hotel went away?â€�

“Nobody has gone all day, except two people who live in the village, and whom the station agent knows quite well. You see, this is only a branch, which the railroad company ran up here for the benefit of our hotel, so it is not used much except by patrons of our house.�

“I see,� nodded Nick Carter. “Well, you may not see either Mike or me until two or three o’clock in the morning. Good night!�

“I hope you will find out something,� called out Mallory, as he went out.

“With ordinary luck, I hope to do so,� were Nick Carter’s parting words.

CHAPTER V.
AN EXPERIMENT IN CHEMISTRY.

“Florine!� said the Baroness Latour, as she entered her rooms after dining with Nick Carter. “I am going to do a little chemistry work in the bathroom. Of course, I am not at home to anybody. Some of those people about the hotel are disposed to be friendly, but I can’t be bothered with them to-night.[Pg 17]�

“Very well,� returned Florine. “Shall I help you change?�

“Yes.�

They retired to the baroness’ bedroom, and in ten minutes the baroness came forth in a neat gingham gown. Over this she wore an apron of the same material, but of darker pattern, that covered her completely.

Florine knew just what to do for the experiments her employer was about to make.

From two large trunks which stood in her own room she took a small electric stove, crucibles, retorts, and similar articles. Also a glass table, which folded when packed away, but could be set up quite firmly in a few minutes. It was the kind of table that is often used by experimenting chemists.

“That will do,� the baroness told her then. “You can stay out here, in my sitting room. Remember that no one is to be allowed to come in until I tell you.�

She shut herself in the bathroom, the ground-glass window of which was open a little at the top, and placed a crucible, containing some colorless liquid, on the electric stove.

She had connected the stove by wires to one of the electric fixtures, after removing the bulb, and thus got all the power she required.

Soon there came a slight hissing from the crucible.

She darted over to it, and having put on a pair of asbestos gloves, lifted the crucible to the glass table.

Next, she adjusted an oxygen mask with a glass front, and, taking off the asbestos gloves, replaced them with others of rubber. She knew well the necessity of taking every precaution when experimenting with dangerous elements.

Taking a small bottle from a cabinet, which had been one of the articles brought in by Florine, she poured half of the liquid in it into the crucible.