CHAPTER X.

THE ANCHOR TO WINDWARD.

As he had stated to his assistants before leaving the Adams House that morning, Nick Carter hastened down to State Street to see what he could learn about Amos Badger.

With his wide acquaintance and friendly relations with the bankers and brokers, both in New York and Boston, it was an easy matter for Nick to ascertain, without disclosing his motives, the facts which he aimed to discover.

He learned from perfectly reliable sources that Badger, who had no partner in business, was heavily long of stocks in the market, a market that had been steadily declining for months; also, that his loan-account on this class of collateral had been repeatedly subjected to calls for additional margins, which were known to have been met only with considerable difficulty and delay.

In a nutshell, Nick easily discovered that Badger had for months been in financial hot water, yet had succeeded in tiding himself along up to date.

Nick now thought he could guess by what desperate means this man was raising the funds required to meet his increasing obligations from day to day.

Incidentally, however, Nick learned other facts for which he was not specially seeking, yet which further confirmed the theory he had so shrewdly formed.

These facts related to Badger’s wife and her sister, the Tremont Street fortune-teller, and were imparted to Nick a bit maliciously by a broker who had suffered in one way or another through Madame Victoria, and who was informed of the history of the two women.

Briefly stated, as it was given to Nick, both were born in England, the daughters of a second-rate actor and manager of various itinerant amusement enterprises, in none of which he had achieved any great success.

The two girls had some little talent in one way or another, however, and both had spent their earlier years in the show business, filling such positions as the various enterprises of their father, since dead, required.

Now as an alleged gipsy fortune-teller, now as a palmist, at other times an astrologer, or some like attraction under a different name, but always as a sideshow to some other amusement, the younger of the two had acquired that experience which, after the marriage of her sister and her coming to America, had enabled her to establish in Boston the business now conducted under the name of Madame Victoria.

The elder of the two, now Badger’s wife, had sung on the stage, done turns in the concert-halls, and in earlier years had been an accomplished equestrienne in the circus-ring, from the first of which Badger had married her in Manchester, about five years before.

That both women were little more than adventuresses of a rather disreputable type, Nick’s informant positively assured him, and this further confirmed his theory and convinced him that he was on the right track.

It was early afternoon when he arrived at police headquarters, in Pemberton Square, and entered the general office previously described.

It so happened that Chief Weston was in this office at the time, though all of the detectives not then assigned to outside work were either out at lunch or in the officers’ lounging-room.

It so happened, also, since Satan sometimes serves his own, that the only other occupant of the general office was the clerk whom Nick had encountered there several days before—Mr. Sandy Hyde.

The brick-hued head of the latter was raised from over his books upon hearing the detective’s name mentioned in greeting, and his catlike eyes lighted with quickened interest.

“Ah, good morning, Nick!” was Chief Weston’s greeting. “Anything doing?”

“I wish to return these reports, chief, which I took from you a few days ago,” replied Nick, producing them from his pocket.

“No further use for them?”

“Not at present.”

“Very well.”

“I will retain this photograph, however, which I may use to advantage a little later.”

“You’ve not hit upon a clue from that, have you?”

“Well, I’m not prepared to say,” demurred Nick, a bit evasively.

“Come inside,” Chief Weston abruptly said, quick to notice Nick’s hesitation. “We shall not be interrupted in my office. Bear that in mind, Sandy.”

“All right, chief.”

“This way, Nick.”

Nick entered the enclosure, and passed through the passage leading to the chief’s, private office.

He did not so much as glance at the clerk, however, whose head had again dropped over his books.

Snap!

The catch-lock announced that the door of the private office had securely closed.

Now Mr. Sandy Hyde dropped his pen, and came down from his stool.

For a moment he peered sharply through the brass lattice along the top of the desks, toward the two open doors leading into the adjoining corridors.

Next he darted out of the enclosure, and quickly closed both of these doors.

No cat’s eyes aglow from a dark corner ever burned more greenishly bright and intense than those of this watchful miscreant at that moment.

It was for him a moment of peril, and well he knew it; yet, in the event of an intruder into the outer office, he relied upon hearing one of the closed doors opened in time to evade detection.

With both closed, he next hurried back into the enclosure, from outside of which the interior of the narrow passage could only partly be seen.

Into this passage Hyde quickly entered, with the stealthy quietude of a shadow, and stood listening at the chief’s door, his ear touching the panel, his eyes still bright with a satanic glow evincing his evil impulse.

His several precautions had required but a very few seconds, moreover, and he lost hardly a word of Nick Carter’s brief interview with Chief Weston, who was about repeating his question just as the eavesdropper arrived at the door.

“You’ve not struck a clue from that photograph, Nick, have you?”

Nick was never much inclined to reveal his discoveries before they culminated in some decisive move, and he again evaded the question by saying:

“Well, I’m not quite sure about that, Weston.”

“What do you suspect?”

“Nothing at all definite as yet,” laughed Nick indifferently. “I wish to retain the photograph a while longer, however, if you have no objection.”

“None whatever, Nick, yet you pique my curiosity.”

“I will explain later.”

“Very well.”

“I presume that Madame Victoria could easily show me the exact spot where this hold-up occurred,” remarked Nick, who had remained standing beside the chiefs desk.

“I imagine so, Nick.”

“I’m going to have her take me out there.”

“For what purpose?”

“I want to see what sort of a place these crooks usually select for their rascally work.”

“I should say that you already had seen that,” laughed Weston, who had been informed of Nick’s encounter with them.

Nick shrugged his broad shoulders, smiling meaningly, and said:

“I wish to see how the two localities correspond. As for my lost property, Weston, I’ll make an even bet that I recover it sooner or later.”

The last was said a bit resentfully, and with a significance that brought a quick change over Weston’s face.

“You’ve got wise to something, Nick!” he abruptly exclaimed.

Nick laughed again.

“What is it?”

“I’d rather inform you a little later, Weston.”

“Just as you like, of course, but I’m really curious to know what you have learned.”

“I’m not quite sure of it yet, chief, and I’d prefer making sure before I indulge in any revelations,” said Nick, with a shake of his head. “It’s not my way, you know, to make disclosures which later may prove to be groundless.”

“I’m well aware of that, Nick.”

“If it will afford you any satisfaction, however, I will make one definite statement.”

“What is that?”

“Merely this, Weston,” Nick forcibly declared. “I will land these crooks for you, every man and woman of them, or I’ll throw up my commission.”

The ear at the panel was strained at that moment, and the glow in the eyes of the listener became a threatening flame.

“Well, well, that ought to be good enough for anybody,” cried Weston, with much satisfaction. “I felt sure that you had run upon something worth knowing.”

Nick nodded significantly, yet replied quite indifferently:

“I think that I have, Weston, and, when I am dead sure of it, I will tell you of what it consists.”

“All right, Nick,” was the reply, with a genial laugh. “I said in the beginning that you should not be interfered with in this case, and that goes at any stage of it. Run it in your own way, Nick, and you’ll suit me.”

“I’m only a bit curious to go out to the scene of this robbery,” Nick now added, with a glance at the photograph which he was replacing in his pocket. “If I can catch Madame Victoria at her rooms after I have lunched, I think I can get her to ride out there with me.”

“No doubt of it, Nick. She’ll be glad enough to do anything that gives promise of the recovery of her property.”

Nick smiled a bit oddly, and prepared to depart.

“I shall drop in to see her about two o’clock,” said Nick. “I reckon I can bring her to my way of thinking.”

“When shall I see you again?” asked Weston, rising.

“Within a day or two.”

“I wish you luck meantime.”

Nick laughed and shook his head, saying with considerable dryness:

“I depend less upon luck, Weston, than upon labor and head-work. If I can make nothing out of this case with my brains, I have no faith that luck will do it for me. As I said before, Weston, I’ll see you within a day or two.”

The listening ear had left the panel of the door.

The catlike tread had pattered quickly through the passage and out of the enclosure, and again the corridor doors stood open.

There had been no intruder during the brief interview, and a look of evil exultation had risen in the eyes of Mr. Sandy Hyde.

As Amos Badger had declared to his confederates one recent morning, it was, indeed, dead lucky that they had—this anchor to the windward.

For it was this miscreant who had warned Badger of Nick Carter’s arrival in Boston, and of his acceptance of this case.

It was this miscreant who had informed Badger of Nick’s intended visit the same morning, and who had made possible the hold-up which to Nick had appeared so like a coincidence.

It was this miscreant, too, whose treachery now bid fair to cost Nick Carter his life, yet whom the latter, with all his keenness, was far from suspecting.

For who looks for treachery in high places, or in those from whom only loyalty is most naturally expected?

The catlike eyes had lost their greenish glow, and the brick-hued head was again bowed above the books, when Nick and Chief Weston came striding through the passage and out of the enclosure.

Nick did not delay his departure any longer, and without a word to the clerk, Chief Weston returned to his private office.

It was then one o’clock.

Five minutes later the head clerk came in from lunch, and Sandy Hyde at once laid down his pen and began putting on his street coat.

The next hour was his own—and he thought he knew how he could best use it.