CHAPTER VII. GROUNDS FOR SUSPICION.

Sergeant Brady got in communication with Nicholas Carter that night just in time to prevent him from visiting the hospital, following the telephone talk he had with Chief Gleason, after the latter had been notified of this fourth mysterious case.

Carter had not quite finished his breakfast the following morning, however, at which he was seated with Chick and Patsy in a private dining room of the Wilton House, when their waiter brought in a sealed missive, which the detective opened and read. It consisted of only two lines:

“I want to see you. I am waiting in the hotel parlor. “BRADY.”

The detective thrust the note into his pocket and waved the waiter from the room.

“It’s from Sergeant Brady,” he then said to his companions. “He is up in the parlor. There must be something doing, or he would not have called so early. I’ll drink my coffee and take him up to our suite. You can join us there.”

“It probably relates to that girl,” said Chick.

“Very likely. He may want my advice or assistance.”

“You haven’t forgotten the autopsy this morning, chief, in that Todd case, have you?” Patsy reminded him inquiringly. “You said you wanted to be there.”

“No, I’ve not forgotten it, Patsy,” said his chief, rising. “I’ll be there all right, after learning what Brady has on his mind.”

“We’ll be with you again in five minutes,” Chick remarked, as the detective was leaving.

Carter found Brady at the parlor door, and he at once conducted him to his suite on the floor above, where he produced a box of cigars and invited him to be seated.

“I slipped in through the side door and sent my note by your waiter, after learning that you were at breakfast,” Brady informed him while lighting his cigar. “If it were known that a police sergeant was calling upon you, your identity might be suspected.”

“Possibly,” Carter admitted. “You did the right thing, Brady, at all events. What’s on your mind?”

“Gleason sent me. It’s about that girl. I could not telephone any of the particulars to you last night, for Doctor Devoll was in the office and heard all I was saying. He might have suspected that I was talking with a detective.

“So I merely told you that the girl had gone and that it would be useless for you to follow the suggestion made you. I referred, of course, to Chief Gleason’s communication.”

“I understood you.”

“This morning, however, I have made other discoveries,” Brady added. “They shed still a worse light on the case.”

“Did the circumstances last night differ materially from those of the three other cases about which Gleason informed me?” the detective inquired.

“No, they were almost identical.”

“You need not state them, then. What more have you discovered?”

Brady told him what Donovan had seen and heard, nevertheless, and he then added, replying:

“Doctor Devoll asked the girl for her name and address in this case. She said it was Mabel Smith and that she boarded at No. 81 Flint Street. I have been there this morning. The house is occupied by a man with whom I am well acquainted, and who is entirely reliable. He knows no girl named Mabel Smith. She gave Doctor Devoll a fictitious name.”

“I see,” Carter nodded. “That is somewhat significant.”

“I also learned from Donovan, who was present when the girl revived, that she claimed to have had a small leather bag. I happen to know that she had, for I picked it up from the ground near the seat on which she was found. I placed it on the litter on which she was taken into the hospital, and I know it was there when she was taken into the ward.”

“Couldn’t it be found?”

“No. Since learning that she gave a false name, and, thinking the bag might contain something that would reveal her identity, I have been to the hospital in search of it.”

“Whom did you see or question?”

“The night nurse and the orderly. Both appear to be trustworthy. They deny having seen the bag. The attendant could not have taken it, for he went with me to the operating room and did not return. It’s absurd, of course, to suppose Doctor Devoll took it, and there remains only the girl herself.”

“Did she have any opportunity to get possession of it without being seen?” Carter inquired.

“I asked about that, and was told that she was not seen to find it,” said Brady. “It is barely possible that she did, nevertheless, and that it contained something which she did not wish Doctor Devoll to see.”

“Very possibly,” the detective allowed.

“Otherwise, she would have admitted having found it.”

“That’s reasonable, sergeant.”

“That’s how I size it up,” Brady added. “It seems to me the only plausible explanation. What I can’t fathom, however, is why these girls are repeatedly found unconscious in the hospital grounds, and why this last one lied in order to hide her identity. Why were they all so anxious to get away and avoid publicity?”

Nicholas Carter did not express his views. He did not care to indulge in vain speculations. As a matter of fact, moreover, he was nearly as puzzled as the police sergeant by the quite extraordinary circumstances. He looked up from a figure in the Wilton carpet, at which he had been thoughtfully gazing, and asked:

“Have any charges been made at headquarters or a complaint of any kind that might even indirectly relate to any of these cases?”

“No, nothing of the kind,” said Brady confidently. “I’m dead sure of that.”

“Have the police tried in each case to trace and identify the girl?”

“Yes, indeed, for all they were worth.”

“But with no success at all?”

“None whatever. If we could hit upon any motive for such a job, or see anything to have been gained by it, we might get on the track of the crooks. For the fact that all the girls told the same story, and plainly enough had been drugged or rendered insensible by some mysterious means, shows that there must have been trickery of some kind.”

“I agree with you, Brady, in that respect.”

“Strange to say, nevertheless, the victims appeared anxious only to leave the hospital as quickly as possible and to bury themselves in obscurity.”

“Have the newspapers reported the previous cases?”

“Yes, indeed, in display type.”

“They must have been read by these girls, then, and there must be some serious reason for their reticence,” said Nick. “Very evidently, Brady, there is something under the surface, something quite out of the ordinary. Gleason wants me to look into this last case?”

“That’s just what he wants, Carter.”

“Who is the chief director or head physician of the Osgood Hospital?”

“Doctor Devoll.”

“He who looked after the girl last night, eh?”

“Yes. He ranks high among the local physicians. He’s all right, too, I guess.”

“No doubt,” the detective agreed. “Well, Brady. I’ll look into the case. I am to see Chief Gleason during this morning, and I then will have a talk with him about it. I infer that you have nothing more to tell me.”

“No, nothing,” said Brady, rising to go. “You have got all that I can hand you.”

Carter sat smoking and frowning at the carpet for several moments after the sergeant had departed. The several cases were so unusual, so exceedingly inexplicable, that they interested him. Had there been only one such case, only one girl found in the hospital grounds, he would have considered it hardly worthy of his serious attention; but four in such close proximity to each other, and so much alike, plainly proved that they were victims of some person or persons.

His reflections were ended by the entrance of Chick and Patsy only two or three minutes after Brady departed, and he briefly told them what the sergeant stated, both already being informed of the other circumstances.

“Gee whiz!” said Patsy, after hearing him attentively. “It sure is a curious puzzle, chief. What do you make of it, and how are you going to tackle it?”

“I don’t make much of it, Patsy, at present,” his chief frankly admitted. “There must be a very potent cause for the reticence of all four girls and for their obvious wish to remain in the background.”

“Sure thing. That goes without saying.”

“It’s barely possible that they are in league with crooks who were responsible for what befell them, and that they do not dare to come forward and tell the truth.”

“Mebbe so, chief,” Patsy nodded.

“On the other hand, the whole business may be the work of some exceedingly keen and clever rascal who, alone and with some ulterior object in view, has been experimenting with these girls and paving the way to a much more knavish project,” the detective added. “If that is correct, it’s a hundred to one that he is the unknown crook who committed the mysterious robberies mentioned by Gleason, and whom he is so anxious to round up.”

“By Jove, there may be something in that!” Chick said quickly. “It appears to be the most probable explanation.”

“I think so, too.”

“But what are your plans, chief?” asked Patsy earnestly. “How are we to pick up a trail worth following?”

“By finding that girl who said her name was Mabel Smith,” the chief replied pointedly. “That must be done, to begin with, and then we’ll go a step further.”

“But how can we trace her?”

“That’s up to you, Chick.”

“Up to me, eh?”

“It’s the task you must tackle this morning,” said Carter. “We have a great deal to accomplish to-day, and each must do his part. I wish to follow up the Todd case, with Patsy to aid me. You had better go to the hospital, Chick, and get after that girl. I have no great faith in Brady’s discernment and acumen. You could discover more in a minute, Chick, than he would learn in a month of Sundays.”

“Oh, I’ll take it on, chief,” Chick said agreeably. “I may perhaps pick up a thread. I’ll report when we meet for lunch.”

“In the meantime, Patsy, in anticipation of what I expect an autopsy to reveal, I want you to visit the office of Daly & Page, stock brokers, and see what you quietly can learn about Gaston Todd,” the detective directed. “You are not known in Madison, and your motive will not be suspected. You may cover that, if you like, by pretending to be a newspaper reporter.”

“Enough said,” replied Patsy. “I’ve got you, chief.”

“Not entirely,” Nick rejoined. “Find out at just what time Todd left the office yesterday, and whether it was his customary time of going out in the middle of the day. If not, make it a point to learn, if possible, why he went out at an unusual time. He may have received a letter, or a telephone call, or a communication by messenger.”

“I understand,” said Patsy. “Leave it to me.”

“In other words,” said Carter, “I want to learn why Todd went to the Waldmere Chambers about noon, and why he was waiting in the corridor, where Frank Paulding saw him.”

“I’ll find out, chief, if possible.”

“It may be necessary to take other steps later in order to hit the right trail,” Carter said in conclusion. “I will decide about that after learning what the autopsy reveals. I’ll see the coroner and medical examiner this morning.”

“We may as well be off, then, and get in our work,” said Chick.

“The sooner the better,” the detective declared, glancing at his watch. “It is now nine o’clock. We’ll meet here again at one.”