DETECTIVE NICK CARTER'S CASES - 7 Book Collection: The Great Spy System, The Mystery of St. Agnes' Hospital, The Crime of the French Café, With Links of Steel, Nick Carter's Ghost Story…. John R. Coryell

of three flat houses, which stand behind it. There are no gates in the fence between the yards of the houses and the lot, but Nick found a wide board that could be pulled off and replaced without much trouble.

      Passing through the opening made by taking away this board, he found himself in the yard of the middle house.

      “The trunks came from here,” he said. “They were lowered down in the dumb waiter to the cellar and then carried through the lot to Fifty-seventh street.

      “I’ll leave the rest of this job to you, Patsy. Find out all you can and have as many witnesses as you can get together, at the superintendent’s office to-morrow afternoon, at three o’clock. We’re going to have a special examination into this case.”

      The special examination began promptly at the hour named by Nick.

      All the persons hitherto mentioned in connection with the case—except, of course, the two victims—were present. There were also several witnesses whom Patsy had secured.

      “The case which I have made out,” said Nick, “is perfectly clear. It begins with Gaspard’s identification of the prisoner, Jones.

      “We know that he was at the restaurant when the crime was committed. His name is on the books.

      “In some way, which I am not now prepared to fully explain, the waiter, Corbut, obtained a knowledge of the crime. It was necessary for the criminal to get Corbut out of the way.

      “I saw Corbut get into a cab at the door of the restaurant. The driver, Harrigan, testified to taking him and another man to a point on West Fifty-seventh street. He was not sure of the exact spot, but he fixed the locality in a general way.

      “From that point all trace of Corbut was lost for a time. At last his body was found.

      “I succeeded in tracing the body back to a place near the spot where Harrigan last saw Corbut alive.

      “I discovered that the body had been removed from a flat house on West Fifty-eighth street.

      “My assistant, Patsy, questioned the people in that house. He learned that the third flat had been occupied by a couple who lived very quietly.

      “The man was often away. I now desire to ask the witness, Eliza Harris, who lives in that house, when she last saw the man in question—the man who rented that third flat.”

      A bright-eyed little woman arose at this, and said:

      “I see him now. There he is!”

      She pointed to John Jones.

      “He wore a false beard,” she continued, “but I know him. And there’s the woman.”

      She stretched out her hand toward Mrs. Jones.

      “To their flat,” Nick continued, “as I have every reason to believe, Corbut was taken by Jones on that night, and there he was murdered and his body cut in two.

      “It was placed in the trunks. Jones intended, probably, to remove it next day, but his arrest prevented.

      “Of course it was necessary to get the body out of the way very soon. But Jones was too closely watched. That work had to be done by the woman, and she did it exceedingly well.”

      Nick told how Musgrave had been duped.

      “Now,” he continued, “nothing remains but to clear up the details of the crime in the restaurant. I shall proceed to state exactly how it was done.”

      At this moment Jones, who had previously remained perfectly calm, uttered a horrible groan, and half arose to his feet. He sank back fainting.

      And then came a surprising incident, for which even the shrewd superintendent of police had been wholly unprepared.

      A pale-faced man, who had been sitting beside Nick, arose and cried, in a voice that trembled with emotion:

      “Stop! Stop! I can bear this no longer!”

      It was Hammond, the man who begged Nick to save Jones.

      While Nick had been speaking, Hammond’s eyes had been fixed upon Jones’ face. He had watched the agony of fear growing upon the wretched man and gradually overcoming him.

      And when the burden became too great for the accused to bear, Hammond also reached the limit of his endurance.

      “I can’t stand it,” he cried. “You shall not torture this innocent man any longer.”

      “What do you mean?” asked the superintendent.

      “This is what I mean. The fear of disgrace has kept me silent too long. Now I will confess everything. Do you think I will sit here and let an innocent man be condemned and his wife put to torture to save me from the just punishment of my fault?

      “Never! Listen to me. It was I who took that unhappy woman to the place where she met her death. It was I who wrote that name in the register.

      “I! I, and not that innocent man, was her companion. The waiter, Gaspard, is mistaken.

      “I am the man who was in room B!”

Chapter IX.

       Hammond’s Story

       Table of Contents

      The effect of this statement can hardly be exaggerated.

      It shook the very foundation of the case against the prisoner. If Gaspard’s identification could be disproved, it seemed almost sure that Jones was saved.

      Even though it could be shown beyond a doubt that Corbut had been murdered in a flat which was rented by Jones, that would not prove that Jones had done it.

      The murderer was evidently the man who had ridden in the cab with Corbut. And Harrigan, the only witness, had failed to recognize Jones as that man.

      The suspicion must instantly arise that a plot had been carefully laid, with the purpose of putting the crime upon Jones.

      Some enemy had signed his name on the register, and the same cruel wretch had decoyed Corbut to the vacant flat and murdered him there. It was easy to suppose that the criminal knew the flat to be empty and had obtained a key.

      It might have been by this secret enemy’s connivance that the trunks were removed and sent to Gaspard.

      But if Hammond was the wretch who had done all this, why had he confessed?

      All these and many other thoughts must have rushed through the mind of the superintendent, in the pause which followed Hammond’s declaration.

      Byrnes looked at Nick for an explanation.

      “This is an extraordinary statement, Mr. Hammond,” said Nick. “Have you any evidence to support it?”

      “I have ample evidence. I was seen in the company of the woman now dead, not fifty yards from the restaurant on the night when she met her death. I can call one of the most prominent and respected men in this city to prove that. The Rev. Elliot Sandford is the man.”

      This name produced a great impression.

      “Why has he kept silence?” asked Nick.

      “He promised me that he would do so as long as his conscience would permit. I called upon him on the morning after the crime.

      “He believed me when I asserted my innocence. He agreed to be silent for the sake of my family.”

      “But who is the dead woman?” asked Nick.

      “I have not the least idea.”

      “You did not know her!”

      “No. Let me tell the full story. It was a chance acquaintance. I met her on the street that