Nick Carter's Ghost Story Page 5

  “A shrewd move,” muttered Nick, “and a bad one for me. However, I've got this gang cornered, and if they've been doing the job at the colonel's house, their operations are over.”

  There was an excited group of people by the main door of the house. In the midst of them stood the medium, a fat and coarse woman, whom Nick had seen before in the same crooked business.

  Those around her were the real believers in spiritualism, who had come to the show.

  They had witnessed the exposure, and were ready to mob the medium.

  Nick took his two prisoners to this group. He tied them securely, and then turned to one of the dupes:

  “Why don't you have these people arrested?” he whispered. “Charge them with taking money under false pretenses.”

  “Good!” said the man. “There's a warrant for some of them already. I'll get the constable, who lives over across the fields, and he'll pull 'em all in.”

  A half-hour later the whole gang was under arrest and on the way to the nearest lock-up.

  The detective felt that his evening's work was not in vain. Whatever might be the facts about the connection of this gang with the affair at Colonel Richmond's, it was a good thing to get them all out of the way.

  The colonel's presence among them proved that they were the spiritualistic crowd which was after him. Their removal would simplify matters.

  Moreover, the colonel's presence, and his questioning of the spook, showed that any theory connecting him with the disappearance of the jewels was wrong.

  It was evident that he had asked the questions in all sincerity, believing that he was really in the presence of his aunt's spirit.

  He could hardly be crazy enough to do that, supposing that his lunacy had led him to abstract the jewels.

  Having witnessed the arrest of the gang, Nick procured a horse and drove rapidly toward Colonel Richmond's house. He arrived there about half-past eleven o'clock.

  There was a light in the parlor, and through the open window Nick beheld an unusual scene.

  The colonel, Mrs. Pond and Horace were present. Mr. Pond was not in the house. He had returned to New York.

  Besides the persons named, there were in the parlor nearly all the servants connected in any way with the establishment.

  It looked as if the colonel was holding court.

  One of the servants seemed to be giving testimony. The expressions on the faces of the others showed deep interest and superstitious terror.

  Nick had no doubt about what was going on. The colonel was getting to the bottom of the ghost stories. There must have been more manifestations that night.

  The detective was in doubt whether to enter the house in his own character. Finally he decided not to do so.

  He disguised himself in the character of John Gilder, the coachman, who was not present in the parlor.

  It seemed best to gain access to the room from an entrance toward the old part of the house instead of from the main hall.

  So Nick passed around the corner of the house. As he did so he was aware of a dark figure crouching in the shadow.

  He instantly grappled with it, and the figure was not less prompt in grappling with him.

  The struggle was very brief. It ended with Nick on top, and no harm done.

  The detective instantly leaped to his feet again.

  “Patsy!” he exclaimed. “What brings you here?”

  CHAPTER VII. A REALLY COMPETENT GHOST.

  Patsy told his story in a few words.

  He had watched the Stevens house all day without discovering anything.

  As evening descended, however, his patience had been rewarded.

  “She came out,” said Patsy, “and quietly scooted off across the fields.”

  “Millie Stevens?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She made for that big oak tree which stands in the middle of the field on the right of the road as you go from the station.

  “I had to trail carefully, for it was not very dark and there was no cover. So I couldn't get very near her.

  “Under that tree a man was waiting. He had a saddle-horse with him. The man and the girl exchanged a few words.

  “Of course, I couldn't hear what they said. Neither could I get a line on the man.

  “I resolved to get nearer, though it was taking big risks. It couldn't be done. They saw me.

  “In a flash the man leaped into his saddle and pulled the girl up in front of him in regular old-fashioned style.

  “They were off in no time. It was a fine horse they rode.

  “I wasn't in it at any stage of the game. I ran myself out at the end of about a mile.

  “They had disappeared in the darkness, but they were taking the road toward this place, and on a venture I came over. I hoped to connect with you, and get instructions.”

  “That was right. Come with me.”

  “What's up?”

  “A ghost hunt, unless I'm very much mistaken. I guess we can join it without any trouble.”

  They made their way into the old portion of the house.

  In the hall from which the broad stone stairs led up to the second floor they paused a moment to listen.

  Steps were approaching. Before they could get into a place of concealment a door opened, and Colonel Richmond entered.

  He carried a small lamp in his hand. Horace followed him.

  “Gilder!” cried the colonel, seeing Nick disguised as the coachman. “Why were you not present in the parlor?”

  “I've just got back to the house, sir,” rejoined the detective, imitating Gilder's Yankee twang”.

  “Who's that with you?”

  “My cousin, Frank Gilder.”

  “What's he doing here?”

  “If you please, sir, I brought him over to spend the night with me. The footman and I don't get along very well together, and I don't like to be alone in a room in this house, sir, just now.”

  “So!” said the colonel. “I understand that you have seen strange things. Very well; I am going to investigate this matter. I shall pass the remainder of the night in the dining-hall above.”

  The colonel led the way up the stairs. The whole party followed him.

  “May I ask where the other servants are, sir?” said Nick.

  “They will pass the night in the new part of the house,” returned Horace Richmond, with a grim smile. “You can do so if you like.”

  “No, sir,” said Nick; “I think I'd rather sleep in my own room so long as my cousin is with me.”

  At the head of the stairs they turned at once toward the old dining-hall.

  It was proper for Nick to follow, for the nearest way to Gilder's room led in that direction.

  It was exactly midnight when they opened the door of the old dining-hall. A cool breath of air swept out upon them, for the thick stone walls of this part of the house resisted the hot weather, and this room had been kept closed.

  The colonel shivered slightly in the draught.

  He paused on the threshold for a moment, and looked into the room. It was lighted—except for the feeble ray from the lamp—only by the faint moonlight which found its way in through the hall and narrow windows, partly overgrown with clinging vines.

  The whole party entered. The colonel set his lamp upon the sideboard.

  He turned to speak to the supposed Gilder, probably with the intention of sending him at once to his room.

  But at that moment the lamp suddenly went out.

  With a low cry the colonel sprang toward it. The lamp was not there.

  It had been removed. The room was almost totally dark.

  The colonel lit a match. There was no sign of the lamp. It had utterly vanished.

  As the burned match fell to the floor a beam of light suddenly shot across the gloom.

  And there, before the old-fashioned fire-place, stood a figure corresponding in every particular to Lavina Richmond as she appeared in a portrait painted just previous to her
death, and hanging at that moment in the colonel's room.

  There was no sound in the room except the labored breathing of the excited old man, whose faith was now fully justified to his mind.

  He was gazing straight at this apparition.

  It was veiled, and the heavy folds of a black silk dress in the style of many years ago hung loosely about the form.

  Immediately a white hand appeared. The veil was lifted, disclosing the thin and pale face of a woman of advanced age and feeble health. The likeness of Lavina Richmond was perfect.

  The colonel tried to speak, but his voice stuck in his throat.

  Slowly the veil descended. Nick made a sign to Patsy, who had pressed up a little in advance.

  He had kept an eye over his shoulder, however, to be sure of getting any orders from his chief.

  There was light enough to see the signal. Patsy sprang forward toward the specter.

  The distance separating them was not more than twenty feet. The athletic youth would have covered it in a twinkling.

  But suddenly he fell to the floor with a smothered groan.

  “I'm hit hard,” he cried; and, raising himself upon one knee, with his left hand pressed to his temple, he drew a revolver with the other.

  “Don't shoot!” exclaimed Nick. “It's Millie Stevens!”

  The detective made a bound toward the figure.

  The light which had played full upon it wavered, as if about to vanish.

  Yet there was time. Nick felt sure of his prize, as he sprang out from his place beside the colonel.

  And the next thing Nick knew it was six o'clock of the following morning, and he was lying in a bed, looking up into Patsy's face.

  CHAPTER VIII. PATSY'S STORY AND THE TEST PROPOSED.

  “Are you much hurt?” asked Patsy, anxiously.

  Nick took in the whole scene before he replied.

  Beside the bed were Colonel Richmond, Horace and a man whom Nick rightly judged to be a doctor.

  “No,” said Nick, “I'm not much hurt, except in my feelings. What happened, Patsy?”

  “The ghost got away,” responded the young man, in a tone of disgust.

  “I wouldn't talk very much,” said Colonel Richmond. “The doctor says that you have been subjected to a severe nervous shock, and—”

  “My grandmother's ducks!” exclaimed Nick. “Nervous shock! Well, this makes me worse. Why, man, I've been sand-bagged.”

  The colonel shook his head.

  “The power of the unseen forces,” he began; but Nick interrupted him.

  “Look here, Colonel Richmond!” he said, “if you had the sensation behind your ear that I've got, you wouldn't talk about mysterious powers of darkness. I know what's the matter with me, and what I want is a chance to get square.”

  “There is no evidence of any injury,” said the physician.

  “There never is in a case of this kind,” rejoined Nick. “A sand-bag doesn't leave any mark. That's why it is so popular.”

  “It is impossible to convince a stubborn man,” said the colonel. “I should think that this experience would have been enough.”

  “Quite enough, thank you,” responded Nick, sitting up. “And so, if you gentlemen who kindly put me to bed will gracefully withdraw I will get into my clothes, and prove to you that I have had enough, and that it is somebody else's turn now.”

  He made them leave him with Patsy. Then he began to dress.

  “Now tell me your story,” he said.

  “When I jumped for that spook,” Patsy began, “I got the fearfulest thump on my crust that I've had since that marline-spike fell off the main yard on to me in the little affair of the Five Kernels of Corn.

  “It couldn't have been a marker to what you got afterward, though. I went down, but not out.

  “You saw me draw my gun. Well, when you yelled 'Don't fire!' I held off, but when I saw you go out I decided that all orders of that kind were canceled.

  “I blazed away; and, Nick, I put five bullets through that figure just as sure as you're an inch high.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The light went out. I got to your side, and flashed your lantern in half a second.

  “The figure had vanished. The colonel's lamp stood on the sideboard just where he had put it.

  “We had a fair light very soon. I examined you first, and, upon my word, I thought that you were done for.

  “We got you up to this room, and Horace Richmond rode off for the doctor.

  “From what he said about a nervous shock you can judge how much he knows.

  “His help wasn't worth anything. I will back myself against him any day.

  “I made sure that you were only stunned, and would come to all right. Then I hurried down to that room and began my search.

  “Well, you know that room. It is simply built up of traps and panels. A man can go through the floor or the walls almost anywhere.

  “My job would have been a good deal easier if there'd been less of that secret machinery.

  “When there are five hundred ways in which a thing could have been done, it's pretty hard to say which one is right.

  “There's a trap pretty nearly in the spot where the figure stood. Probably she came up and went down through that.

  “But how about my shooting? There's the point.

  “I took a direct line from the place where I was to the trap.

  “Following that line, I came to the screen in front of the fire-place.

  “In that screen, and about four and a half feet from the floor, were three bullets from my pistol. The other two are not there.

  “Then, as I figure it out, that ghost has carried them away.

  “My shooting was pretty good, considering the light. The three bullets were in the bigness of a watch-crystal.

  “I feel sure that the other two were aimed just as well. If that's true, then one of the conspirators has some mighty serious wounds. Three went through her, and she stopped two.

  “But there isn't a drop of blood to be found. The passage under the trap I have explored thoroughly.

  “I can't find a human being or a trace of blood or any of the machinery which they must have used for the light or the ghost.

  “Of course, the failure to find traces of the conspirators is not strange. These passages are so long, and so intricate, and so mighty well gotten up that I haven't had time to go through them all.

  “But the wounded person is another matter. Where she is hidden is more than I can imagine.”

  “I hope it wasn't Miss Stevens,” said Nick.

  “You called her name.”

  “Yes; I thought the chances were that it was she, but, of course, I couldn't recognize her in that rig for certain.”

  “Well, if it was she, of course, we shall find it out. It's impossible for her to carry those two bullets around with her and not show it.”

  Nick was dressed by this time. They went out into the hall of the new part. Nick had been taken to a room there, instead of being carried to that which had been assigned to him in the old part of the house.

  From below came the sound of voices. The colonel, the doctor and Mrs. Pond were talking of the case.

  Patsy stopped before a closed door in the upper hall.

  A sign from Patsy arrested Nick's attention. He communicated to Nick in their silent language:

  “That's Horace's room, isn't it? Whom is he talking with?”

  Nick listened. Then he laughed.

  “You've fooled yourself there, Patsy,” he said. “He's talking to a parrot. It's one of his pets. He has a good many.”

  Patsy looked a little sheepish.

  “You can't blame me, Nick,” he said. “We must suspect everybody in such business as this. Isn't that right?”

  “Quite right,” responded the detective.

  They went at once to the old dining-hall. Colonel Richmond presently joined them there.

  To him Nick frankly explained all the events of the previous night,
including the disguise which he had adopted in order not to appear in the ghost hunt in his own person.