[{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.

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.

Statement of ownership, management, circulation, etc., of Nick Carter Stories, published weekly, at New York City, required by the Act of August 24, 1912.... Editor, W. E. Blackwell, 32 W. 75th Street, New York City.... Managing editors, business managers, publishers and owners, Street & Smith, 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York City.... Known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders, holding 1 per cent. or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities: None.... Signed by George C. Smith, for Street & Smith.... Sworn to and subscribed before me this 30th day of September, 1912, Chas. W. Ostertag, Notary Public No. 31, New York County (my commission expires March 30th, 1913).

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No. 145. NEW YORK, June 19, 1915. Price Five Cents.

AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY;
Or, NICK CARTER’S GOVERNMENT CASE.

Edited by CHICKERING CARTER.
[{2}]

CHAPTER I.
A SECRET CONFERENCE.

The old gentleman passed the other two as if they were strangers. He jostled by them without so much as a glance. The most observing person in the throng then pouring out of the railway station, like a swarm of busy bees out of a colossal hive, would have detected no relation between them.

While passing the couple, nevertheless, the old gentleman said quickly to one of them, though scarce above his breath:

“Go to the new Willard. Register as directed, and get a suite, Wait there till I come.”

The man addressed heard him, but did not turn his head, nor evince the fact with the slightest change of countenance.

His companion, a natty, keen-eyed chap with a blond mustache twirled upward at the ends à la kaiser, appeared oblivious to what had occurred.

The scene of this trivial episode, which was far more portentous than one would suppose, having a bearing on no less tremendous an issue than the possible fate of a nation, was the new Union Station in the city of Washington, and the hour was two o’clock one fine afternoon in October.

The old gentleman hastened out with the throng into Massachusetts Avenue, seeking a trolley car and mingling with the crowd in a plebian sort of a way, as if business of no great importance had brought him to the nation’s capital.

He rode down Pennsylvania Avenue as far as Fourteenth Street, where he alighted and walked the remaining distance to the Treasury Building, entering one of the side doors with an air and display of interest often observed in the crowds of tourists to be seen in this vast building at [{3}]that hour of the day. No observer would have supposed him other than a sight-seeing stranger, viewing Uncle Sam’s great money box and financial institution for the first time in his life.

Something like five minutes later, nevertheless, he entered one of the numerous offices without the ceremony of knocking, and blandly addressed a clerk who turned from his desk to see who had entered.

“I suppose Chief Welden is inside?” he said inquiringly.

“Yes, sir,” bowed the clerk. “I will take in your card, or name, if——”

“Don’t trouble,” interrupted the old gentleman, smiling. “I am his uncle. He is expecting me. I will go right in.”

He did not wait for an objection, had any been forthcoming, but opened a near door and walked into an adjoining private office. It was quite large and elaborately furnished. But the only occupant was an attractive, clean-cut man seated at a large, roll-top desk.

“Don’t rise, Welden,” said the old gentleman, after closing the door. “Have a look at my card. It will supply the needed link. Even you are not likely to recognize me.”

Chief Welden, then the head of the United States secret service, glanced at the card the speaker displayed for a moment and then coolly returned to his own pocket.

It bore the name of the celebrated New York detective—Nick Carter.

Chief Welden laughed.

“Gracious!” said he, pointing to a chair with one hand and extending the other. “No, indeed; I would not recognize you. You’re the limit, Nick, when it comes to giving one a surprise. Why did you come in this rig?”

“A summons direct from the nation’s chief executive, Welden, must be occasioned by something of vast importance,” Nick replied, drawing up a chair and cordially shaking hands with the treasury official. “It imposes cor[{4}]responding circumspection upon one of my vocation. I decided to drop in here under cover and learn what is wanted of me.”

“I knew that the president had communicated with you and I was expecting you to show up during the day,” said Chief Welden, more gravely.

“I got the special-delivery letter this morning.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“Alone?”

“As you see,” said Nick evasively.

Chief Welden swung round in his swivel chair, so as to directly face the noted detective. There had been other times when the keen and clever men under his direction had been baffled by perplexing problems, resulting in an appeal to the famous New York detective; but judging from Welden’s expression at that moment, none could have been more important than that which had occasioned this summons of Nick Carter to Washington, an appeal direct from the president himself.

“I will tell you as briefly as possible what has occurred, Nick, and why it has been thought wise to employ you,” said Welden.

“Do so,” bowed the detective.

“To begin with, Carter, we have in the war department a young man named Harold Garland. He is about thirty, remarkably gifted along certain lines, and strictly reliable. Understand that at the outset; his integrity is above suspicion. I am absolutely sure of that.”

“Very good,” said Nick. “What about him?”

“He is a graduate from West Point, and is in the employ of the government as an expert engineer, in which capacity he is, as I have said, remarkably gifted. He unquestionably is without a peer in this country in his special line. He has an office in the war department, and I will presently send for him.”

“I shall be glad to meet him,” Nick observed.

“Now, to go back a little,” Chief Welden continued. “Something like eight months ago, Nick, I was informed by two of our secret-service agents abroad that foreign spies were known to be in Washington, said to be here on some secret mission, the nature of which was not definitely known. It was suspected, nevertheless, that they were here after information concerning elaborate coast defenses and fortifications contemplated by the government, which in some sections are under secret construction.”

“You received that information eight months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Were the reports verified? Were the spies identified?”

“Neither,” said Welden. “The suspicion could not be confirmed either here or abroad. The fact that the same report came at about the same time from two of our foreign agents, one then located in Vienna and the other in Paris, and there having been no communication between them, led me to give considerable credit to their report, much more than if there had been but one.”

“I see the point,” Nick nodded.

“We were not able to verify it, nevertheless, nor have we since succeeded in doing so. Nor have our agents abroad been able to add to the meager information obtained at the time. Under such circumstances, of course, having no confirmation of their reports, the matter became a little stale after eight months.”

“Naturally,” Nick allowed.[{5}]

“But it was brought up again very vividly three days ago,” Chief Welden pointedly added.

“How so?”

“I will explain in a nutshell.”

“I’m all attention.”

“For nearly a year, now, Garland has been collaborating with Captain Arthur Backas, a naval officer now stationed in Annapolis, and who also is a recognized expert along engineering lines.”

“I know him by name,” Nick bowed.

“For the past year these two government engineers have been secretly and exclusively at work on plans for elaborate coast-line defenses and fortifications extending from Chesapeake Bay to Sandy Hook. It is one section of a vast and for the most part secret coast-defense system contemplated by the government, and the first steps in the construction of which have already been taken.”

“I follow you, Welden.”

“And you know, of course, that secrecy is one of the absolute requirements in such work,” Chief Welden proceeded. “There is no occasion for me to enlarge upon that. Secrecy is imperative to adequate protection. If other nations were to learn——”

“I know all about that, Welden,” Nick interposed, checking him with a gesture. “It goes without saying. Come to the point.”

“That may be done with few words,” Chief Welden replied. “Last Friday, three days ago, Garland had occasion to confer with Captain Backas about a very important part of their mutual plans, and he went to Annapolis for that purpose.”

“I see.”

“He took the plans with him in a leather portfolio. He spent most of the day with Captain Backas, returning alone to Washington in the early evening. He was met at the Union Station by two young women, one the only daughter of Senator Barclay, the other a Miss Verona Warren, an intimate friend of Miss Barclay, and with whom Garland is deeply in love. The girls knew he was to arrive from Annapolis at seven o’clock, and they met him with Senator Barclay’s touring car, driven by his chauffeur. They at once took Garland to his apartments, where they dropped him and returned home.”

“Garland, I infer, brought back the plans taken to Annapolis,” Nick observed.

“He put them in the portfolio before leaving the office in which he had talked with Captain Backas. Their conference had been strictly private. The portfolio did not leave Garland’s hands from that time until he entered his apartments in the Grayling, where he has a safe in which to lock them. He opened the portfolio to inclose a memorandum relating to the plans—and found them gone.”

“The plans?”

“Yes. The portfolio contained, instead, a quantity of blank paper resembling them in size and thickness.”

“I disagree with you,” said Nick, after listening with scarce a change of countenance. “You have made one wrong statement.”

“Namely?”

“You said the portfolio did not leave Garland’s hands after he had placed the plans in it,” said Nick. “It did leave them, Welden, or there could not have been a substitution of worthless paper for such tremendously important plans.[{6}]”

Chief Welden smiled and nodded.

“That goes without saying,” he admitted. “As a matter of fact, Nick, it was not the same portfolio.”

“The whole business had been substituted?”

“Exactly. The substituted portfolio was so like his own, however, that he did not detect the difference until after he had opened it,” said Welden. “His own was nearly new and his name was written with ink on the inside of a flap that closes it, and which is secured with two small straps and buckles. There was no name in the substituted portfolio. It was slightly defaced, moreover, so like his own that he detected no difference.”

“Which plainly denotes that whoever turned the trick, or planned and directed the job, was perfectly familiar with Garland’s portfolio,” said Nick.

“That is obvious, of course,” Chief Welden agreed.

Nick Carter took up the matter as if it were merely a petty theft, instead of one threatening the nation. No need to tell him, nevertheless, of the terrible danger from further construction in accord with the stolen plans, or of the vast expense and innumerable difficulties in changing them, they presumably having been made to the best advantages discernible to the expert government engineers in charge of that part of the work. One scarce could conceive of a more serious and possibly far-reaching loss.

Nick gazed at Chief Welden for a moment, then asked tersely:

“Any clew?”

“None, so far,” was the reply.

“You suspect it was the work of the spies mentioned?”

“Naturally.”

“Who is on the case?”

“Several of my best men,” said Welden. “I have talked with the president, who is much disturbed by the matter, and we realize that these men may be known by sight and that they are connected with the secret service. We have thought wise, therefore, to employ you on the case, assuming that you are not known and can work to greater advantage. There is this much to it, Carter,” he forcibly added: “Those plans must be recovered. They must be found before copies can be made, or——”

“One moment,” Nick interposed. “I appreciate all that is involved. It is bad, terribly bad, but I will do my best to meet the situation. Send for Garland. I wish to question him.”

“I think I can answer any questions that——”

“You won’t do,” Nick again interrupted. “I might ask questions that you could not possibly answer. I shall want them answered. Send for Garland. I wish to talk with him.”

Chief Welden turned to his desk and rang for the clerk in the outer office.

CHAPTER II.
THE GOVERNMENT ENGINEER.

Nick Carter was a keen physiognomist. He no sooner saw the face of the young man who entered Chief Welden’s office a little later, than he was sure of his lofty character and sterling integrity, as Welden already had asserted.

He was tall and erect, with the carriage of a soldier and set up like an athlete. His smoothly shaved face was of a classical cast, with clean-cut, regular features,[{7}] a fair complexion, and frank blue eyes, with a broad brow and wavy brown hair.

He then looked white and drawn, however, as men look who have aged years in as many days under some terrible experience. Mental distress of the most poignant kind was reflected in his face, and Nick rightly inferred, as Chief Welden also perceived, that the young man apprehended further direful disclosures and additional misery from this unexpected summons to the chief’s office.

Welden hastened to reassure him, however, by saying, with sympathetic voice and a smile:

“Draw up a chair, Garland, and shake hands with this gentleman. We have brought him from New York to pull you out of this affair. I think he may succeed in doing so, for he rarely fails, if ever, in what he seriously undertakes. His own mother would not know him just now, however. Shake hands with Nick Carter.”

Garland’s face lighted as if a ray of sunshine had fallen on it. He clasped Nick’s hand, felt its cordial and sympathetic pressure, and his voice choked despite himself.

“I’m awfully glad to know you, Mr. Carter, and ten thousand times more so in knowing that you are to look into this matter,” he said feelingly; then, with a quick glance at the chief: “Why have I not been told of this, Chief Welden? You know what horrible anguish and anxiety I am undergoing.”

“Very true, Garland,” said Welden, smiling significantly. “But we did not know positively that Carter would be in a position to comply with the president’s request. What good to have extended you false hopes? Sit down, now, and have a talk with Mr. Carter. He wants to ask you a few questions.”

Garland hastened to comply, while Nick said, in a more businesslike fashion:

“Welden has told me all of the superficial circumstances, Mr. Garland, and I’ll do what I can for you. Let’s waste no time in getting right at the matter, for time is always valuable. Steady yourself and answer my questions as quickly and concisely as possible.”

“I will do so, Mr. Carter,” said Garland eagerly.

“To begin with, then, who else occupies your office in the war department? Are there any clerks, or others, in the employ of the government?”

“No, indeed,” said Garland. “I have a private room and an outer office resembling these. I employ only a girl stenographer, who has a desk in the outer office.”

“Does she know on what work you have been engaged?”

“No, sir. That is known only to Captain Backas and the heads of the department.”

“All of whom are, of course, perfectly reliable,” said Nick. “I now am aiming only to pick up a clew, Garland, to the identity of the person who could have had the information necessary to have framed up this job. Did your stenographer know you were going to Annapolis last Friday?”

“Yes, sir. I told her I was going the day before.”

“Did you tell her for what?”

“No.”

“Let’s make a jump, then,” said Nick. “Whom did you see in Annapolis, who might by any means have learned of your mission?”

“Only Captain Backas,” said Garland emphatically. “I went directly to his office, where I remained until I left for my train to Washington.[{8}]”

“Who else was in the office during your conference with Captain Backas?”

“Nobody. We were alone.”

“Did any one enter while you were talking with him?”

“No, sir. I am sure of that.”

“And you are sure you placed the missing plans in the portfolio before leaving, and that it was not substituted for another before you left?”

“Yes, sir; absolutely sure.”

“How did you go to the station?”

“In a taxicab.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good,” said Nick. “Where did you ride in the train?”

“In the smoking car,” said Garland. “I occupied a seat alone.”

“Where was the portfolio?”

“I placed it between me and the wall of the car, next to the window, where my arm could rest on it during the ride. I was reading a book in the meantime.”

“Could the portfolio have been removed by a person in the seat behind you without your knowing it?” Nick inquired.

“No, sir, absolutely,” said Garland. “When I placed it there, Mr. Carter, I made sure there was no space between the end of the seat and the wall, through which the portfolio could slip. Naturally, sir, knowing the vast importance of its contents, I was exceedingly careful and constantly alert. It would have been utterly impossible for any person to have removed my portfolio and substituted another on the train.”

“We will go a step farther, then,” said Nick. “When you arrived in Washington and came from the Union Station, what did you do?”

“I hastened to find my friends who promised to meet me, Miss Barclay and Miss Warren,” said Garland. “I found them nearly opposite the main exit. I got into the automobile with them and they——”

“One moment,” Nick interposed. “Was it a limousine or an ordinary touring car?”

“A touring car.”

“Top up?”

“No, sir.”

“Who was in the car?”

“Only the two ladies and Hopkins, the chauffeur,” said Garland. “To be more correct, however, Miss Barclay had alighted and was standing beside the car when I approached. She knew I would like to ride in the seat with Miss Warren, of whom I am especially fond, and she took the seat next to the chauffeur after our greeting.”

“Just before you started for home, I infer?”

“Certainly.”

“What were you carrying except the portfolio?”

“Only the book I had been reading.”

“What did you do with them after entering the touring car?”

“I placed them beside me on the seat,” said Garland.

Then, with a quick frown, he impulsively added:

“See here, Mr. Carter, don’t suppose for a moment that either of my companions at that time know anything about this matter. They are incapable of such treachery as that. Put it out of your head, sir, if you have any[{9}] such suspicion. I know positively that Verona Warren and Miss Barclay are above——”

“Pardon me,” Nick interrupted a bit dryly. “What you know about them, Mr. Garland, is not material. I am not seeking to cast suspicion upon any one, least of all, your two lady friends. I want only to trace your movements as precisely as possible from the moment you left Annapolis. Pray don’t infer that I have formed any definite suspicion.”

A tinge of color came to Garland’s pale face.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Carter,” he said quickly. “I meant no offense. Nor do I question your motives. None could realize more keenly how much depends upon what you can do for me. Please continue your questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability.”

“Very good,” Nick replied. “As a matter of fact, then, you have not the slightest idea when, where, or by whom one portfolio was substituted for the other?”

“No, Mr. Carter, not the slightest,” Garland quickly answered. “I am absolutely in the dark. I nearly fainted when I opened the portfolio and discovered my loss.”

“Were you then alone in your apartments?”

“I was.”

“What is the Grayling?” Nick inquired. “A hotel?”

“No. It is a private boarding house in Vermont Avenue, not far from the Thomas Circle.”

“It’s a first-class house, Carter,” put in Chief Welden.

“I have no family,” Garland added. “I’m quite alone in the world and likely to remain so—unless Verona Warren accepts me for her husband. It was my intention to lock the portfolio in a safe which I have in my room. I frequently have taken plans home for night study, Mr. Carter, so I thought nothing of doing so on this occasion. It was too late to put them in the vault in the department building.”

“How soon after entering your room did you open the portfolio?” Nick asked.

“Immediately,” said Garland. “I had in my overcoat pocket a memorandum relating to the plans, and I was about to put it in the portfolio before removing my coat.”

“The substitution could not possibly have been made, then, after you entered your room?” Nick questioned.

“No, sir. There was no other person in the room.”

“How long have you had the portfolio, Mr. Garland?”

“About a month. I bought it expressly to carry the plans in when I had occasion to take them from my office.”

“Where did you buy it?”

“In Raymond’s leather store in Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“Were you alone at that time?”

“I was.”

“Did you see others like it in the store?”

“Yes. There were several of the same kind.”

“Now, Mr. Garland, about the plans,” said Nick. “Are they so marked that the thief, or thieves, can definitely determine what they are and to precisely what part of the government work they relate?”

“No, not immediately,” said Garland. “They are marked in cipher. It would take an expert, even, some little time to thoroughly understand them and to what they refer. In that, Mr. Carter, lies our only hope. If the plans could be recovered before the rascals learn just what they are——”

“They know what they are, Garland, or they would not[{10}] have framed up so crafty a job to get them,” Nick interrupted. “We may be able, nevertheless, to recover them before they can be deciphered and definitely understood. In that, as you have said, lies our only hope. I will lose no time in getting in my work.”

“What are your plans, Nick?” Chief Welden inquired. “If I can aid you in any way——”

“I will let you know, Welden, in that case,” Nick interposed, rising to go. “I have no plans at present, nor do I know just how I shall proceed. I must consider the circumstances thoroughly. I will note your home address, Mr. Garland, in case I want to reach you out of business hours. That is all I require of you at present.”

CHAPTER III.
A CURIOUS CLEW.

It was nearly four o’clock when Nick Carter left the Treasury Building, and he at once turned his steps toward the hotel to which he had directed the two men who had emerged with him from the Union Station.

They were, as no doubt was inferred, his two most efficient assistants, Chick Carter and Patsy Garvan, both in disguise, and four o’clock found them seated in the suite assigned them, to which their trunks and other luggage already had been brought.

Both then had removed their disguise and were reading the local newspapers, when Nick knocked on the door and was admitted by Patsy.

“Well, chief, what’s up?” Patsy eagerly inquired, after closing the door.

Nick removed his outside garments and sat down.

“We have a hard nut to crack,” he replied. “The case is a serious one, very serious.”

“What’s the nature of it?” Chick questioned. “I have been vainly searching the newspapers.”

“The case has not reached the newspapers. The facts have been suppressed. They are known by only a few except the persons involved.”

Nick then proceeded to tell them of what the case consisted, covering in detail all that he had learned from Chief Welden and Harold Garland.

“By Jove, it does look like a hard nut to crack,” Chick agreed, after listening attentively. “It will make a mighty bad mess for the government unless those plans can be quickly recovered. Have you any definite suspicions?”

“Not exactly,” Nick replied. “There is one point on which we first must decide.”

“Just when and where the dummy portfolio was substituted for the other,” said Chick.

“Precisely.”

“How can we arrive at that?”

“By a process of elimination,” said Nick. “It’s not reasonable to suppose, in view of Garland’s positive assertions, that Captain Backas is guilty of treachery and treason.”

“Surely not,” Chick coincided. “Furthermore, he would not have taken the risk that Garland would discover the crime even before leaving, or arriving at the Annapolis station. In that case he would, of course, have instantly attributed the crime to Backas.”

“Very true,” Nick nodded. “That alone is enough to confirm Garland’s statements. He undoubtedly had the plans, then, when he started for the station. He rode[{11}] alone in a taxicab. We can safely assume, then, that he still had his own portfolio when he boarded the train.”

“It strikes me, chief, that there is the most likely place for the trick to have been turned,” said Patsy.

“I don’t agree with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because of the publicity on a train,” said Nick. “It would have been exceedingly difficult to steal the portfolio and substitute another without being seen by other passengers. If caught in the act, moreover, escape from a fast-moving train is almost impossible. Crooks shrink from taking such chances. They would have been much more likely to select a safer place for the job.”

“That seems reasonable, chief, after all,” nodded Patsy.

“It convinced me that Garland is right, which eliminates that part of his journey,” Nick continued. “I think he had his own portfolio up to the time he entered the touring car with the two young ladies.”

“But would either of them serve him such a trick?” Chick questioned doubtfully.

“Garland don’t think so,” Nick replied, smiling. “He was very quick to resent a mere suggestion to that effect. He admits having placed the portfolio on the seat, nevertheless, and it may have been then, or during the ride to his apartments, that the substitution was accomplished.”

“By one of the women?”

“Presumably. The chauffeur could not have done it without being detected.”

“But consider their character,” said Chick. “One is the daughter of Senator Barclay. The other——”

“I prefer to consider the circumstances, Chick,” Nick interrupted. “They are much more to the point just now. I will consider the women after having seen them.”

“You say Miss Barclay sat in the front seat?”

“Yes, with the chauffeur,” replied Nick. “She would have had less opportunity than the other. Her name is Verona Warren, but I did not inquire further concerning her. If Garland were to feel that I really suspect her, he might inadvertently betray the fact to her, even though cautioned against it, which would serve to put her on her guard.”

“Surely.”

“We will look up both of them a little later and see what we can learn about them,” Nick added. “It was early evening, mind you, and such a trick could be much more easily turned in the dark than in daylight. That is another reason for my thinking that then is when it was done.”

“You are right, too, I reckon,” Chick allowed. “It seems almost incredible, nevertheless.”

Nick did not reply to the last. He arose and went to the bathroom to remove his disguise and make a change of clothing.

Chick lit a cigar and fell to pondering upon the case, the extraordinary gravity of which gave it special interest.

Patsy Garvan took a chair near one of the windows and resumed his perusal of a newspaper. He had been reading only a few minutes, when, looking up, he said abruptly:

“Gee! here’s a curious case, Chick.”

“Case of what?” Chick tersely questioned. “Not a case of beer, I hope.”

“No, nothing like that,” grinned Patsy. “A case of assault. Listen. I will read it to you.[{12}]”

He reverted to the newspaper again and read aloud the following article:

“‘MYSTERY UNSOLVED.

“‘The motive for the brutal assault suffered by Captain Casper Dillon last Friday evening is still an unsolved mystery. The circumstances, as stated by him and in part corroborated by a witness of the assault, afford no explanation of the outrage, which is said to have been entirely unprovoked.

“‘The one man who was run down and arrested by the witness mentioned, moreover, still forcibly denies that he was one of the assailants, and asserts that he was only trying to protect Captain Dillon, and ran away only in pursuit of the two ruffians who had assaulted him, and who succeeded in making their escape.

“‘Captain Dillon was returning to his lodgings at the time and had nearly arrived at his door. The street then appeared to be deserted. When passing the entrance to a narrow court, however, in which his assailants evidently had been lying in wait for him, Captain Dillon was set upon from behind and struck senseless with a bludgeon of some kind. The assault was so quickly committed that he had hardly a glimpse at his assailants, insufficient to identify them, or positively determine their number.

“‘Paul Makepeace, a lawyer living in the same street, turned a corner just in time to see the three men running away and the insensible form of Captain Dillon lying on the sidewalk. Makepeace at once gave chase, overtaking one of the fleeing men in Indiana Avenue, where he was given in charge of a policeman.

“‘The arrested man is Thomas Carney, and he is well known to the local police. He has twice been convicted of petty larceny, and is said to be of a depraved and desperate character.

“‘Carney insists, nevertheless, that he was walking some thirty yards behind Captain Dillon, when two men sprang out of the court and felled the captain to the ground. Carney protests that he does not know either of the two ruffians, in pursuit of whom he claims to have started, and who appeared to have no other designs upon their unsuspecting victim.

“‘This is confirmed in a measure by the fact that Captain Dillon was not robbed of anything, though he had considerable money and jewelry on his person. The thugs, on the other hand, may have feared to complete their work.

“‘In the gutter near which Captain Dillon fell was found a false beard and mustache, evidently a disguise worn by one of the thugs, and which presumably was torn off and lost in the brief combat.

“‘Captain Dillon states that he is completely in the dark as to the motive for the assault, as well as the identity of his assailants. He appeared in the municipal court when Carney was arraigned on Saturday morning. He was unable to refute the prisoner’s statements, however, and Carney has been held pending further investigations. The case bids fair to remain, nevertheless, an unsolved mystery.’”

Patsy lowered the newspaper while he read the last line of the article, gazing over it at Chick who said indifferently:

“I see nothing very mysterious in that. The thugs had a grudge against Dillon for some reason, and they got back at him by knocking him on the head.[{13}]”

“They did that all right, at least,” Patsy said dryly.

“It reads like a lot of smoke from a very small fire,” Chick added. “There is nothing to it, in my opinion, if the whole truth were told. The reporter who wrote it up must have been working on space, or——”

“One moment,” Nick interrupted, returning to the room while only partly dressed. “I don’t quite agree with you, Chick. Read the story again, Patsy. I heard only parts of it while dressing.”

Patsy hastened to comply, reading the article from beginning to end.

Nick stood listening while knotting his necktie. His strong, clean-cut face became more grave. His eyes took on a more intent expression.

“There may be more fire, Chick, than is supposed,” said he, taking the newspaper from Patsy and glancing himself at the article. “I think there really is, in fact.”

“Why so?” questioned Chick, a bit surprised. “For what reason?”

“Several,” said Nick. “One because I have met Captain Casper Dillon and happen to know something about him. He is not the type of man I fancy.”

“What about him, Nick?”

“He is not in active service, from which he retired several years ago because of a slow illness, from which his physician said he could not recover. He came out of it all right, nevertheless, and he since has occasionally been given minor foreign missions for the government, as he spends about half of his time abroad. He became quite conspicuous in the diplomatic broil we had with the Russian government three years ago, certain features of which I was called upon to investigate, resulting in an amicable adjustment of the whole business.”

“I remember,” Chick nodded.

“It was then that I met Captain Dillon,” Nick added. “I suspected him of having been a bit off color in that affair, but I could not find sufficient evidence to warrant making charges against him. I venture to say, nevertheless, though probably no one would believe me, that he has been the indirect cause of more international correspondence by the state department than any other man in Washington. I confidently advised the secretary of state at that time to look out for him.”

“A soldier of fortune, eh?” Chick remarked.

“I don’t know about that,” said Nick. “I do believe, however, that Captain Casper Dillon would not hesitate to increase his fortune by any crafty or even treasonable means that could be safely employed. That’s what I think of Captain Dillon.”

“He may have incurred the enmity, then, of the ruffians who assaulted him,” said Chick. “Why do you attach special significance to the incident? I see nothing extraordinary in it.”

CHAPTER IV.
NICK CARTER’S DEDUCTIONS.

Nick Carter glanced again at the newspaper story. No man could have read more keenly between the lines. No logician could have deduced more significant points from its apparently trustworthy statements.

“You may not see anything in it, Chick, but I do,” he replied, after a moment. “Some one, either Dillon or Carney, though very probably both of them, has been lying. These statements won’t stand washing.[{14}]”

“That’s the stuff, chief,” said Patsy. “Put them through the wringer and squeeze out the dyestuff. What do you make of it?”

“Here is one point,” Nick replied. “Carney claims to have been walking only a short distance behind Dillon when the assault was committed. It’s a hundred to one in that case that the thugs would have seen him, or heard him. They were exercising caution and must have been on the lookout to avoid arrest, as well as to attack Dillon at a time and place precluding interference. They surely would have seen or heard Carney, therefore, if he was only thirty yards behind Dillon, and they would have known that he most likely would rush to his assistance.”

“Sure thing, chief,” declared Patsy. “There’s no getting around it.”

“Naturally, then, they would have postponed the assault, if revenge was their only incentive. That would have kept until another day.”

“That’s right, too, chief.”

“It’s long odds, then, that Carney is lying,” Nick continued. “In view of his running away, moreover, instead of waiting to see how badly Dillon was hurt, as most men would have done under such circumstances as Carney describes, he very probably was hiding with the thugs and was in league with them. That’s more in line with his character, as here stated.”

“There is something in that, Nick, after all,” Chick said, more seriously. “I begin to think you are right.”

“Assuming that I am, Carney evidently has determined not to betray his confederates,” Nick went on. “He sees a loophole for escape in this story he has told, and he is going to stick to it. He knows the lawyer who pursued him cannot disprove it, having seen only the three men running away after the assault.”

“That appears to be obvious, Nick, at least.”

“But Carney may have still another motive,” Nick added. “He is known to be a thief. The assault may have been made with intent to rob. In spite of Dillon’s assertion to the contrary, moreover, the thugs may have robbed him of something.”

“But he would know it in that case, Nick,” said Chick. “What possible object could Dillon have in concealing the fact?”

Nick smiled a bit oddly.

“Suppose he was robbed of something which he does not dare admit having had on his person?” he said inquiringly.

“Gee whiz!” cried Patsy quickly. “You are thinking of the portfolio, chief.”

“That calls the turn, Patsy,” Nick replied. “Let’s see what further warrants that idea. It is a significant fact that this assault was committed last Friday evening, that on which Garland was robbed of his portfolio.”

“That’s right, too, by gracious!” said Patsy, with increasing enthusiasm. “Gee! I’ll bet we have struck the trail.”

“But how could the portfolio have come into Dillon’s hand?” Chick demanded skeptically.

“As well ask, Chick, how could it have been disposed of in the touring car, if that is where the theft was committed, as appears most probable,” Nick replied. “We know that Verona Warren occupied the seat with Garland, on which he had placed his portfolio. She is the one person who, in spite of Garland’s relations with[{15}] her and evident faith in her, chiefly warrants suspicion. I got at that readily enough through the elimination process.”

“That is true, Nick, I’ll admit.”

“Let’s look a little deeper, then,” Nick continued. “We know nothing definite about Verona Warren, and there may be something under the surface. She may not be all that is supposed, judging from her relations with Garland and with Senator Barclay’s daughter, who should be above suspicion, of course, and naturally not distrustful of her intimate friend, this Warren girl.”

“I get you,” Chick nodded.

“It would have been possible, no doubt, for Verona Warren to have had the dummy portfolio concealed under her cloak, or some outside garment, when she went with Miss Barclay to the railway station,” Nick went on. “It would have been much more difficult, as well as risky, however, if she succeeded in substituting the dummy and getting the other, for her to have retained both portfolios in the car. They are about fourteen inches square and an inch thick.”

“I admit that, Nick, also.”

“Naturally, then, she would have got rid of the one she had stolen. That could have been done, perhaps, by stealthily handing it to some one who passed near the touring car before it started, unobserved, in the stir and confusion outside of the station. Or it might have been done by dropping it from the moving car at some point agreed upon, where a confederate was to be waiting to pick it up.”

“You certainly are figuring out a very clever job, all right,” remarked Chick, laughing.

“Gee whiz! it listens good to me,” said Patsy, with an expressive shake of his head. “I’ll bet money to marbles that it hits somewhere near the truth.”

“Let’s see what more we find in support of it,” continued Nick, glancing again at the newspaper. “A disguise said to have been worn by one of the thugs was found near Dillon’s body after the assault.”

“What do you deduce from that?”

“Why was it torn from the face of the thug?” Nick questioned argumentatively. “How could that have occurred? There surely was no great struggle, if Dillon was struck down so quickly that he could not identify, nor even determine the number of his assailants. There was no reasonable occasion for one of the thugs to have lost his disguise, nor to have left it there, even if it was torn from his face. He could easily have picked it up before he fled.”

“Sure thing, chief,” Patsy again agreed. “I see what you are coming to, all right.”

“We can come to only one conclusion, Patsy.”

“That Dillon himself was the man who wore the disguise?”

“Exactly,” said Nick. “It is easy to see how it may have been torn from his face, or displaced when he fell to the sidewalk. That further appears in that it was found near his body.”

“But why was Dillon in disguise?” Chick persistently questioned.

“If he was the man who was to relieve Verona Warren of the stolen portfolio, he very likely would have been in disguise,” Nick pointedly answered.

“By Jove, there’s some truth in that!” Chick quickly allowed. “If you have sized him up correctly, he might,[{16}] indeed, be a traitor to his country and in league with others to steal these government plans.”

“That’s the very point, Chick. He may be in league with the foreign spies mentioned by Chief Welden and suspected to have come here with that very object in view.”

“But who were his assailants? How could they have known he had the plans?”

“They may have seen him with the portfolio,” suggested Patsy.

“But how could they have known what it contained?”

“Gee, that’s so. They might have known, Chick, all the same.”

“Furthermore,” Chick added, “Makepeace, the lawyer who pursued them, ought to have seen them get away with the portfolio, if that was really the case.”

“Not necessarily,” Nick objected. “They were well away before Makepeace saw them and started after them. He probably saw only the backs and rapidly moving legs of the two who escaped. He might not have been able to see in the darkness of the evening what either of them was carrying.”

“By Jove, this makes a curious case of it,” said Chick. “If you are right, then, the plans have been stolen from the original thieves, Verona Warren and Captain Dillon, and now are in the hands of other crooks.”

“That would be about the size of it if, as you say, I am right,” Nick replied. “But that word ‘if’ is just as big as it ever was, or ever will be. I may be all wrong. There may be no connection whatever between the assault upon Captain Dillon and the theft of the governmental plans. The circumstances seem to warrant my theory, however, and it’s up to us to find out whether it is correct.”

“Gee! I should say so!” cried Patsy. “It looks to me like the real thing.”

“It would prove of vast advantage to us, of course, if the plans are in the hands of ruffians who cannot readily understand them, or appreciate their vast importance,” Nick added. “It might enable us to recover them before they can be traced and secured again by the original thieves, who are undoubtedly able to turn them to the worst possible use.”

“We may be too late.”

“You mean?”