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No. 140. NEW YORK, May 15, 1915. Price Five Cents.

THE MELTING POT;
Or, NICK CARTER AND THE WALDMERE PLATE.

Edited by CHICKERING CARTER.

CHAPTER I.
AN OLD OFFENDER.

“Oh, no, I have not forgotten you. I never forget the face of a crook.”

The speaker was Nick Carter. His voice, though somewhat under ordinary pitch, had a subtle and ominous ring. There was a threatening glint in the eyes he had fixed upon the face of the man he addressed.

It was a striking and impressive face, nearly as strong and impressive as that of the famous detective—but for directly opposite reasons.

Nick Carter’s face was frank, manly, and wholesome.

That at which he was gazing was pallid, sinister, and severe. Its clean-cut features were as hard as flint. The thin-lipped mouth denoted cruelty and vicious determination. The square jaw and aggressive chin evinced firmness and bulldog tenacity. The cold gray eyes had a shifty gleam and glitter seen only in the eyes of what the detective had called this man—a crook.

He took up the epithet bitterly, saying, with a sneer:

“Crook, eh! You cannot prove it.”

“I may sooner or later.”

“You have tried—and failed.”

“Failure never deters me from trying again. You know the old adage.”

“You succeeded only in smirching my name, in giving me a bad reputation. It caused my friends to desert and avoid me. It excluded me from the clubs, the reputable hotels, from every desirable place that I had been accustomed to frequent. It has changed my life and turned it as arid as the heart of a desert. I have you to thank for all this—you, Carter!”

“You are mistaken,” Nick replied. “You have only yourself to thank for it.”

“We view it differently.”

“Where have you been for the past two years?”

“Not where you tried to put me.”

“In Sing Sing.”

“Yes.”

“Nor have you been in New York, or I should have known it.”

“You would have known it, too, if I had been arrested.”

“Most likely—if arrested under your own name.”

“You remember that, then, also.”

“Both the face and name of a crook, Stuart Floyd, I always remember,” said Nick. “I make it a point never to forget them.”

Floyd’s thin lips curled again with intense scorn and bitterness.

“That epithet again,” said he between his teeth. “I have you to thank for it—and repay.”

“Ah! I see now why you stopped me,” said Nick. “You wanted to threaten me.”

They had met in Madison Avenue; in fact, the detective having left his residence only a few moments before. It was about ten o’clock in the morning.

“Threaten you!” exclaimed Floyd, with ominous quietude. “There has been no day or night for two years that I have not threatened you.”

“Indeed!”

“Have you supposed that I forgot, that my memory is less retentive than yours, that I have less cause than you to remember? Have you thought for a moment that I forget and forgive?”

“It matters very little to me, Floyd, whether you do or not,” Nick calmly informed him, entirely unaffected by the subdued yet vicious intensity with which the other was speaking.

“Later, Carter, you will pipe a different tune,” Floyd went on, with eyes vengefully gleaming. “I will not sleep until the debt is paid. I am going to put something over on you, Carter, that will more than balance our account. Smile scornfully, if you will, but wait until I plunge you into the melting pot. It will come—take my word for that. It’s you for the melting pot. You for the melting pot!”

Nick Carter did not ask him what he meant—did not seriously care. Nor did he attempt to detain him, though he glanced after him a bit sharply.

Stuart Floyd had stepped to one side, then walked briskly away without a backward glance, and he was quickly lost to view in the throng of pedestrians then in the avenue.

Nick Carter walked on as if nothing had occurred. The threat did not alarm him. He gave it hardly a second thought.

It was two years since he had seen Stuart Floyd, since he arrested him for complicity in the looting of the Imperial Loan Company by Morris Garland and Moses Hart, its two treacherous managers, the case involving the felonious pawning of Lady Waldmere’s valuable jewels, held by them for collateral.

The prosecution, however, had not ended quite as Nick had expected. Both Garland and Hart were convicted and sent to the State’s prison, where they still were confined.

The two women involved in the abduction of Lady Waldmere, Vera Vantoon and her sister, Leah, were given a year for that part of the crime. It could not be proved, however, that either was involved in the looting of the loan company. They since had served their time and been liberated.

Though Nick Carter was convinced of his guilt, moreover, Stuart Floyd had, with the help of an able criminal lawyer, contrived to slip through the fingers of justice. Both Garland and Hart had sworn that Floyd knew nothing about the looting, that he had acted only as their agent in the handling of the jewels, and that he was entirely ignorant of the abduction of Lady Waldmere.

Nick felt morally sure, however, that Stuart Floyd was back of the whole business, despite the fact that it could not be proved to the satisfaction of the jury that had acquitted him.

Nick was not surprised at Floyd’s subsequent disappearance, for he had posed as a person of character and a popular man about town. The suspicion was one that would not down, however, and the stigma apparently had resulted in his disappearance, though none could say where he had gone. It was with some surprise, therefore, that the detective encountered him that morning.

Nick had not lost sight of Lord Waldmere and his wife in the meantime, and he was an occasional caller at the handsome residence bought in Riverside Drive by the Englishman, who had been cast out and disinherited because of his marriage with Mary Royal, at that time a beautiful American chorus girl.

Lord Waldmere’s investments in Colorado mines had proved very profitable, however, and he fast was becoming further estranged from his native land and more and more infatuated with American life and customs, in part due to the wishes of his charming wife. He had dropped his English title, becoming simply Mr. Archie Waldmere, though his prestige had won him a legion of friends and admission into the first circles of society.

Nick Carter was informed on all of these points, and of all of the friends of the Waldmeres, none was more friendly and gratefully regarded than the famous detective.

It was with some little surprise, nevertheless, three days following his meeting with Stuart Floyd, that Nick received an urgent telephone summons to the Waldmere residence with his chief assistants, Chick Carter and Patsy Garvan.

The communication came from Mr. Waldmere himself, convincing Nick that something very serious had occurred. Without waiting to inquire into the details, however, he at once complied, in company with Chick and Patsy.

CHAPTER II.
THE STOLEN PLATE.

It was eleven o’clock when Nick Carter arrived with Chick and Patsy at the Waldmere residence that morning. The butler admitted them, while Lord Waldmere and his wife came hurrying through the broad, handsomely furnished hall to meet them.

“Come into the library,” said Lord Waldmere, after their greeting. “By Jove, I’m deucedly glad you could come so quickly. I’m in a terrible state. I’m the victim of a beastly job, as you American detectives call them. ’Pon my word, Carter, I don’t know whether I’m afoot or horseback. I’m infernally upset, don’t you know——”

“Won’t it be well, then, Waldmere, to let your wife tell me what has occurred?” Nick suggested, interrupting. “I infer that it is something of a criminal nature, or you would not require my services.”

“That hits the bally nail on the nob,” groaned the Englishman. “I have been jolly well robbed, Mr. Carter, jolly well robbed and——”

“Sit down, Archie, dear, and let me state the case,” Mrs. Waldmere interrupted, after all had entered the finely furnished library. “I can inform Mr. Carter much more briefly than you, and he evidently feels that time may be valuable.”

Lord Waldmere always yielded to his wife, at which none wondered, for her beauty and charm were quite irresistible.

“Archie has, as you already know, decided to remain permanently in America, or at least until a reconciliation has been effected with his family, of which there appears to be no prospect as long as his father, the Earl of Eggleston, lives.”

“Yes, I know about that,” Nick bowed.

“Archie not only has been successful in his mining ventures,” Mrs. Waldmere continued, “but he also inherited from his mother, who was the earl’s second wife, nearly all of her extensive estate.

“It comprised the London residence of her father, also the old manor house and estate in Dorsetshire, with all that they contained. This included a fine library, numerous costly paintings, portraits, and other furnishings, and also a large quantity of valuable silver and gold plate, which has been a heritage of the Waldmeres for two centuries. It is of the massive and beautifully engraved kind that we do not see in these days, and it is valued at something like a hundred thousand dollars.”

“That’s the blooming truth, Mr. Carter,” nodded Waldmere. “I would jolly well rather have given a leg, old top, than have lost it.”

“Lost it!” echoed Nick. “Do you mean that you have been robbed of the plate?”

“Yes, bah Jove, that’s just what I mean. The bally stuff, you see, was——”

“One moment, Archie,” Mrs. Waldmere interposed. “Let’s state the facts briefly.”

“Yes, do so,” put in Nick attentively.

“After having bought this beautiful residence, which still is only partly furnished,” she continued; “Archie decided to ship over here most of his English furnishings, including the library, the paintings and portraits, a quantity of costly rugs, tapestries, and draperies, and also all of the gold and silver plate.”

“Ah, I see!” Nick nodded. “The plate has been stolen during transportation.”

“Exactly.”

“Tell me what you know about it.”

“That can be briefly told. Archie wrote to his London agent, Mr. Cherry, a thoroughly reliable man, giving him all of the necessary directions. Mr. Cherry had the goods packed for shipment. They filled twenty large cases. These were marked and numbered to correspond with an inventory mailed to Archie, stating what each case contained.”

“The inventory was duly received?” Nick questioned.

“Yes, it came nearly two weeks ago.”

“Continue.”

“The goods were shipped on the liner Flodora, which should have arrived in New York five days ago. As you may have read in the newspapers, however, she had a break in some part of her engine and was compelled to put into Boston, where her cargo was discharged and shipped to New York by rail. We were notified by New York agents on the day of her arrival, informing us how our shipment would be forwarded.”

“I follow you,” said Nick.

“To guard against any mishap, Mr. Carter, we then sent our chauffeur to Boston to engage a special car for our goods and to see that all of the twenty cases were put into it.”

“What is his name?”

“Frank Gilbert. I have known him for years. He is strictly honest and capable. He remained in Boston and saw the twenty cases put into the freight car. He also saw that it was properly closed and sealed. The car was sent on an hour later, for the train was being made up at the time, and it arrived here and was sidetracked in the railway yard early this morning. We were notified by telephone and told that we could take away the goods.”

“What more, Mrs. Waldmere?” Nick inquired.

“Following our instructions, Gilbert already had made arrangements with Macklin & Dale, the express company, to bring the cases to this house,” she continued. “We telephoned to them at once, and were told that they would have a van at the car at ten o’clock. We sent Gilbert there at half past nine with the bill of lading, which the freight agent requires from strangers before he will deliver the goods. Gilbert arrived at the car at precisely ten o’clock. No dray was there.”

“The truckman was late?”

“Something more than that. He was sent, as agreed, but was stopped on his way by a policeman, who claimed to identify him as a crook wanted by the authorities, and who detained him half an hour to question him.”

“H’m, I see,” Nick nodded. “Something more, indeed, Mrs. Waldmere.”

“In the meantime, Mr. Carter, another wagon, bearing the firm name of the express company, went to the railway yard. Two men were in charge of it. They presented a forged bill of lading, stating that they had been sent to take away three of the cases, the numbers of which were specified, as soon as possible. One of the yard hands was sent to the car with them, and the cases were delivered to them about twenty minutes before Gilbert arrived. They were the three cases, Mr. Carter, that contained the valuable Waldmere plate.”

“Yes, by Jove, and the bally rascals got away with them,” cried Waldmere, in tones of bitter dismay. “I’ve been jolly well robbed, Mr. Carter, jolly well robbed of——”

“One moment, Waldmere,” said Nick, checking him with a gesture. “Your wife has made this crime perfectly clear to me. Just how it was accomplished is not quite as plain. We must look into it. I infer, Mrs. Waldmere, there is nothing more of importance that you can add.”

“No, nothing, Mr. Carter,” she replied. “That’s the whole story.”

“That, on the contrary, is only the beginning of the story,” corrected Nick. “Much must be done and with some risk, I anticipate, before the whole story is told. What, besides sending for me, have you done about the robbery?”

“Nothing,” said Mrs. Waldmere. “Gilbert informed us of it by telephone. We directed him to have the car reclosed and locked pending an investigation, and I then advised Archie to telephone to you and place the case in your hands. He did so immediately.”

Nick looked at his watch. It was nearly twelve o’clock. Two hours had passed since the crime was committed. It was obvious to him, of course, that the crooks had made a big haul and got safely away with their plunder.

Nick glanced expressively at Patsy Garvan after a moment, and the latter rightly read the look in his chief’s eyes. He arose almost immediately and sauntered into the adjoining hall, closing the library door when he passed out of the room. He knew that Nick wanted to be sure that the following conversation was not heard by any of the servants.

“Before beginning an investigation, Mr. Waldmere, I wish to caution you and your wife to say nothing about any views I may express, neither to your friends nor in the hearing of your servants,” said Nick, addressing both quite impressively. “Though you did not observe, I directed one of my assistants to close the door and wait for me in the hall. That will insure us against an eavesdropper.”

“But, hang it, my dear Carter, I’m deucedly well sure that all of my servants are trustworthy,” Waldmere quickly asserted. “’Pon my word, sir——”

“The word of one of them, or possibly more, may not be near as good as you think,” Nick interrupted. “Permit me to be the judge, please, and do what I have directed.”

“Certainly, Mr. Carter,” put in Mrs. Waldmere. “You may depend upon it.”

“It must be obvious to you, of course, that this theft was very carefully planned and quickly committed, with definite information of your designs and what was to be stolen. Otherwise, it could not possibly have been accomplished in the way it was done.”

“Surely not, Nick,” Chick nodded. “That’s dead open and shut.”

“To whom have you confided your intentions, Waldmere, outside of this house?” Nick inquired.

“Only to my London agent and the expressman I employed. But the latter cannot have known what the three cases contained.”

“You have confided in none of your friends, or acquaintances?”

“No, not one.”

“But you have discussed the matter here at times with your wife?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Your London agent is reliable, you say?”

“Absolutely,” Waldmere declared. “There is no question about it.”

“Obviously, then, the information obtained by the crooks must have been imparted by some one who overheard you discussing your designs, and who has been constantly informed of your intentions and what was being done. Naturally, of course, suspicion points to one of your servants.”

“But——”

“Don’t let’s argue the point,” Nick again interrupted. “Let me have my way, Waldmere, that we may get after the crooks as quickly as possible.”

“Very well. It’s up to you.”

“Now, to proceed, how many servants do you employ?”

“Six,” said Mrs. Waldmere. “Picard, our French chef. A woman in the kitchen, named Maggie Coyle.”

“Young, or well along in years?”

“About fifty.”

“Not likely, then, to be in such a job,” said Nick. “Besides, her position in the house, as well as that of the chef, would have made it difficult for them to have learned all of the necessary details. They are out of it.”

“We employ a butler, John Patterson,” continued Mrs. Waldmere. “Also my maid, Della Martin, and a maid for general work, named Minerva Grand. All came well recommended. I have known our chauffeur, Frank Gilbert, for years, as I have said.”

“They comprise your list of servants?”

“Yes.”

“Has Gilbert returned from the railway yard?”

“He has and is waiting in the basement. He met the truckman sent by Macklin & Dale, and we directed him to bring him here, also, thinking you might wish to question both.”

“I will do so,” said Nick. “Have the truckman sent up here. I want both of you to wait in another room while I am talking with him, also with Gilbert, whom I will send for a little later. Do not ask my reasons, but kindly comply.”

Waldmere looked a bit surprised, but he made no objection. He arose at once and left the room with his wife.

“Well, what do you make of it?” Chick inquired, while they waited for the truckman. “It looks to me like a bit of remarkably clever work.”

Nick nodded and added:

“With inside help.”

“You feel sure of that?”

“Reasonably sure,” said Nick. “The circumstances point to absolutely definite information on the part of the crooks, much more so than if there had been only three cases shipped and all three stolen.”

“That’s true,” Chick allowed.

“They must have known the numbers of the three cases containing the gold plate. They must have known that the location of those three particular cases in the freight car was such that they could quickly remove them, or they could not have figured so fine as to time. They got away with them, mind you, only twenty minutes before Gilbert arrived in the yard.”

“That’s right, too, by Jove.”

“Furthermore—but here comes our man,” Nick broke off abruptly. “We will size it up later.”

The truckman had entered while the detective was speaking.

CHAPTER III.
NICK CARTER’S CRAFT.

Nick Carter needed only to glance at the face of the man who had entered to feel assured of his honesty. He was a rugged, red-cheeked Scotchman of nearly fifty years, clad in a checked blouse and overalls and carrying in one of his begrimed and calloused hands a faded woolen cap.

“Come nearer, my man,” said Nick pleasantly. “What is your name?”

“Tom McLauren, sir,” he replied, complying.

“How long have you been in the employ of Macklin & Dale?”

“Ten years, sir.”

“I have been told on what job you were sent out this morning, also that you were detained by a policeman who——”

“That’s wrong, sir,” McLauren said quickly. “I may have said a policeman, sir, not thinking, but he was a plain-clothes man who stopped me.”

“One you knew by sight?”

“No, sir. But he showed me his detective badge and——”

“I understand,” Nick interrupted. “Where did he stop you?”

“In Forty-eighth Street, sir, when I was driving through from Second Avenue. He held me up and made me pull off to one side of the street, and then he began to question me, as much as saying that I was a crook he was looking for. I tried to convince him he was wrong, but the infernal bonehead wouldn’t have it, and he threatened to take me down to headquarters, team and all, unless I answered his questions. He hung me up there for near half an hour, sir, until I got hot around my collar and told him he’d better pull a gink who went by just then, instead of me.”

“Some one you knew?” questioned Nick.

“I know him by sight, sir, that’s all.”

“Why didn’t you appeal to him, then, and have him vouch for you?”

“I’d have got fat, sir, doing that,” said McLauren, with an expressive grin. “Surest thing you know, in that case, the dick would have collared me.”

“You mean that the man who went by is a crook?”

“I reckon so, though I couldn’t swear to it,” said McLauren. “But he’s a gangman, all right, and I’ve heard he’s a gunman, as well. I only know him by sight, sir.”

“Do you know his name?”

“I do.”

“What is it?”

“Tim Bannon, sir, though he’s better known as Bug Bannon, being a small, bow-legged chap with a head like a bullet.”

“Humph!” grunted Nick, who knew all about the young gangster. “Did he say anything, or look at the man who had stopped you?”

“He did not. He was whistling and on the other side of the street.”

“How much longer were you detained, McLauren?”

“Only a couple of minutes, sir. The dick seemed to see he was in wrong and he let me go.”

“Describe him,” said Nick.

“He looked all right, sir, as far as that goes,” said the truckman. “He’s a medium-built man, kind of pale, but with dark hair and a beard. He——”

“That’s all, McLauren,” Nick interrupted. “Send in Frank Gilbert when you go out. Wait until I have finished with him and I will give you further instructions.”

“I hope you don’t think, sir, that I——”

“I know that you had no hand in the robbery,” Nick again cut in, anticipating what the other was about to say. “Do what I have directed and say nothing about my inquiries.”

“I will not, sir,” McLauren assured him, with a look of relief as he turned and left the room.

“By Jove, this looks as if——” Chick began.

He quickly checked himself, however, when the chauffeur, who had been waiting in the hall, entered and closed the door.

He was a tall, clean-cut man in the twenties, with a frank face and clear blue eyes, that met with convincing gaze the somewhat searching scrutiny of the detective.

“I wish to ask you only a few questions, Gilbert,” said Nick. “Much may depend upon the information I obtain from you, however, so be very careful when replying. Don’t overlook any little incident that may have occurred, however trivial it may seem to you.”

“I understand you, Mr. Carter,” bowed the chauffeur, taking the chair to which the detective waved him. “I will overlook nothing, sir.”

“To begin with, then, have you told any person about the intentions of your employer, or why you were going to Boston?”

“Not one word, sir,” said Gilbert. “I was for two years in the chorus with Miss Royal, now Lady Waldmere, and I have always felt a very sincere regard for her. I would cut out my tongue, or lose a hand, rather than harm her in any way.”

“I believe you,” said Nick. “Tell me, now, just what you did after arriving in Boston. Omit nothing of importance.”

“I was there only one day,” Gilbert replied. “I first went to the customhouse, where I saw the collector and gave a voucher for what the imported cases contain, and I got permission to have them sent to New York without delay.”

“And then?”

“I then went to the pier where the Flodora was docked. I was fortunate in finding that all of the cases had been discharged from the liner, and I at once had them taken to the railway, to be put into a special freight car. A train was being made up when I arrived there, and I arranged for the car with the yardmaster, whom I found in his office in the freight house.”

“Did you see the twenty cases put into the car?”

“I did, sir. I also saw the car closed and locked.”

“Who handled the cases when transferred from the dray to the car?”

“The truckman, assisted by a train hand in the car.”

“Who else was present?”

“Only one other man, sir, who directed the loading of the car. I supposed he was one of the yard hands employed for that kind of work. He appeared to have some authority.”

“He appeared so to you?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“And to the train hand, no doubt?”

“So far as I noticed. The train hand did what he was told.”

“When and where did you first see this man?”

“He came along just as we were beginning to load the car. He at once began to tell the train hand where to put the cases. I supposed he wanted the car loaded in a certain way.”

“That was a natural supposition,” Nick allowed, smiling a bit oddly. “The train hand had much the same impression, no doubt.”

“He appeared to, Mr. Carter.”

“He probably inferred that this officious individual had an interest in the cases, and a right to say where they should be put,” said Nick. “Never mind about that, however. Did you see the man after the car was closed and locked?”

“Only when we were leaving the yard.”

“Did he leave with you?”

“He went as far as the freight house with me. Then he took the bill of lading given me by the freight agent, and told me to wait while he got a duplicate of it for the way-bill clerk. I did so, Mr. Carter, and he returned in about five minutes and gave me the bill of lading. I supposed he was one of the yard officials, and that was the last I saw of him.”

“You returned to New York that night?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Describe the man, Mr. Gilbert,” said Nick.

“Why, sir, he was a man of medium build and about forty years old. He was quite dark, but with a rather pallid skin and——”

“That is sufficient,” Nick interrupted. “Tell Mr. Waldmere that he may send you and McLauren after the seventeen cases remaining in the car. I will look after getting—the other three.”

“Do you mean, Mr. Carter, that——”

“Never mind what I mean,” Nick again cut in. “Say nothing about the questions I have asked. Do only what I have directed.”

“I will, sir.”

Gilbert bowed and withdrew. He looked as if something unthought of before had suddenly dawned upon him.

“By Jove, we seem to be getting down to cases,” Chick remarked, when the chauffeur had closed the door.

“We are,” Nick tersely agreed.

“You think the man who showed up just in time to direct loading the freight car——”

“Is the man we want, or one of them,” put in Nick. “There is no doubt of that. He got by both Gilbert and the train hand by assuming an air of authority that completely deceived both. One supposed him a road employee; the other the owner, perhaps, of the twenty cases.”

“Most likely.”

“Be that as it may, he got the three cases containing the gold plate placed so near the car door that they could be quickly removed after arriving in New York. He further fooled Gilbert, moreover, into letting him forge a copy of the bill of lading, probably on a blank already obtained.”

“Sure thing,” Chick nodded. “That’s as plain as twice two.”

“He was on Gilbert’s trail from the time he left New York.”

“If we could discover his identity——”

“Leave that to me,” Nick interrupted. “Call in Patsy, also Waldmere, and his wife. Stay—wait one moment!”

Nick arose abruptly and approached a large roll-top desk near one of the walls. The cover of it was raised. Taking a lens from his pocket, Nick examined the polished woodwork on all sides, including the faces of several small interior drawers, surveying all of them at an angle that caught the light in a way that served his purpose.

“Now, Chick, I’m ready,” he remarked, resuming his seat.

Patsy Garvan entered a few moments later, followed immediately by Waldmere and his wife. Both gazed inquiringly at the detective, anxious to know what he had learned, but Nick did not inform them. Instead, addressing Waldmere, he said, with seeming indifference:

“I will have finished in a short time. I think you said, Waldmere, that the inventory of the twenty cases, which was mailed to you from London, was received about two weeks ago.”

“Yes. Just about that,” Waldmere nodded.

“Where is it?”

“In my desk.”

“Has it been there most of the time?”

“Yes. It is in one of the small drawers.”

“I inferred so,” Nick said, a bit dryly. “May I see it?”

“Certainly.”

Before the Englishman could open the small interior drawer toward which he reached, however, Nick checked him by saying abruptly, as if suddenly hit with another idea:

“Stay! I don’t think I really care to see it. Instead, Waldmere, I would like to question your butler and the two maids.”

“Very well.”

“Which of them, Mrs. Waldmere, has charge of this room?” Nick added, turning to her. “I refer to the sweeping and dusting.”

“Minerva Grand,” she replied.

“The general housemaid?”

“Yes. She is a very sweet and dainty girl.”

“Call in both maids and the butler,” said Nick, turning to Waldmere again. “I will question each of them. Do not interfere with me, nor volunteer any suggestion if I give either of them an order.”

Waldmere looked very much puzzled, but he bowed without replying, and rang for the butler.

Patterson came in with the two maids a little later. He was stiff and sedate, the type of man who could not commit a crime if he tried. He presented a marked contrast to the two girls, both of whom were pretty and only just turned twenty.

Della Martin, the elder, was a dark, capable-looking girl, who responded with manifest confidence to the detective’s questions, evincing no sign of fear.

The other, Minerva Grand, was the more attractive. She was slender and dainty, with a face like that of a doll. Her complexion was a clear pink and white, her eyes wonderfully blue, her mouth well formed and sensitive. An abundance of wavy yellow hair appeared like a halo over her winsome countenance. A more artless and innocent-looking girl could not be imagined, and her deportment was in keeping with her looks.

Nick Carter questioned all three, but his inquiries were really only a blind, to dispel misgivings on the part of either of them, and neither Chick nor Patsy could fathom at what he was driving.

After several minutes, however, Nick turned to Minerva Grand and said pleasantly:

“I wish you would bring me a cup of hot water with a spoon in it. Have it quite hot.”

“Yes, sir, I will,” she replied, bowing demurely.

“I want to dissolve an alkali to make a chemical test.”

“Yes, sir, please you,” said Minerva, hastening to obey.

“You may go, Patterson, and you,” Nick added, addressing the others. “If you are wanted again, I will ring.”

Both withdrew, and Waldmere was about to ask a question. He caught a forbidding gleam in the detective’s eyes, however, and he said nothing.

Nick fished out part of a lozenge from his pocket, a bit of confectionery that he happened to have. He held it in the palm of his hand when Minerva returned with a cup of steaming water, containing a silver spoon.

“Hold the spoon a moment, my girl,” said Nick, taking the cup from her.

Minerva removed it without speaking.

Nick dropped the piece of lozenge into the water, then glanced up at her pretty face.

“Now the spoon, if you please,” said he, taking it from her. “That is all, thank you. You may go.”

Minerva bowed, blushing, and left the room.

Chick, Patsy, and the Waldmeres were still more puzzled.

Nick arose and walked to the window. Unobserved by the others, he took his lens from his pocket and briefly studied—the finger print left by the girl on the steam-dampened handle of the silver spoon.

CHAPTER IV.
WHAT NICK HAD LEARNED.

It was after one o’clock when Nick Carter left the Waldmere residence, after having given such further instructions as the circumstances seemed to require.

Twenty minutes later found him seated in his business office with Chick and Patsy, when he at once began to tell them what he thought of the case.

“There is little to it, and also much to it,” said he enigmatically. “We must do some quick work, mighty quick work, or farewell to the Waldmere plate.”

“How do you size it up, chief?” questioned Patsy, who saw that Nick was somewhat anxious over the outcome of the case.

“That may be told in a nutshell,” Nick replied. “Waldmere’s designs were known by his servants. One of them put a gang of crooks wise to the possibility of this robbery and what could be derived from it.”

“Surely,” put in Chick. “That’s as plain as twice two, though Waldmere does not think so.”

“The information was stealthily learned from the inventory received two weeks ago,” Nick continued. “A copy of it was secretly made, no doubt, and given to one of the crooks.”

“Ten to one,” Chick nodded.

“That gave them the numbers of the three cases containing the gold plate, and they afterward were kept constantly informed as to the time of their arrival and of what Waldmere’s intentions consisted.”

“That’s obvious, also.”

“Just how she was led into this crime, however, and with whom she has been communicating and handing out this information, remain to be discovered. It must be discovered, too, without delay.”

“She!” exclaimed Patsy, gazing. “Do you suspect one of the maids, chief?”

“More than suspect, Patsy,” Nick replied. “I am sure of her.”

“Which one, chief?”

“Minerva Grand.”

“Gee whiz! That doll-faced girl! She don’t look capable of stealing a feather from a peacock’s tail.”

“That’s too true for a joke, Patsy,” said Chick, a bit dryly. “Are you really sure of it, Nick?”

“Dead sure, Chick, and then some.”

“By Jove, it seems almost incredible.”

“Let me explain,” said Nick. “I found on the highly polished face of one of the small interior drawers in Waldmere’s desk numerous dainty finger prints.”

“H’m, is that so?”

“I might not have been so quick to suspect, however, if I had found the same on the adjoining small drawers, also. But they were only on one. It was the one to which Waldmere reached when I asked him to let me see the inventory. I already felt sure it was in that drawer.”

“Ah, that explains it,” said Chick, smiling. “I wondered at what you were driving.”

“Gee! I was in on that, all right,” put in Patsy. “I couldn’t fathom it.”

“I suspected that they were the finger prints of the girl who sweeps and dusts the room,” Nick continued. “That would have given her an opportunity, or many of them, in fact, to stealthily examine the inventory, and even make a copy of it.”

“Surely,” Chick nodded.

“I decided, however, that I had better clinch my suspicion. I found the same dainty finger print on the damp silver spoon which I had her bring and hold for a moment.”

“Gosh, that did settle it!” said Patsy. “Clever work, chief, all right.”

“I am convinced of the guilt of this girl and the part she has played in the robbery.”

“Why didn’t you arrest her, then, and force a confession from her?” Chick inquired.

“That last might not be easily done,” Nick replied. “Furthermore, the girl may not know the crooks.”

“Not know them? How can that be, providing your suspicions are correct?”

“She may have been lured into this by a supposed friend, one who is in league with the crooks and who is acting as a sort of go-between.”

“I see the point,” bowed Chick. “Minerva Grand might not be able to put us on the track of the gang itself.”

“That’s the point precisely,” said Nick. “I would not take the chance of arresting her, therefore, or even of letting her know that I suspect her. That is why I did not make a special mark of her in my inquiries, also why I have kept all this from the Waldmeres and left them entirely in the dark. I feared they might betray me to the girl by some word, or look.”