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

much,” was the reply; “and I was a good deal surprised. He begged her not to be nervous about it, and talked very pleasantly to her, but he steered clear of the matter of the jewels.

      “I don’t understand it. I thought he would insist upon what he calls a restitution of the property.”

      “Perhaps, after all,” said Nick, “he isn’t so far off his base on the ghost question as you think he is.”

      “Don’t you deceive yourself about that. He is just as sure that his aunt’s spirit removed those jewels as you are that that house is resting on its foundations.

      “And I wouldn’t try to shake his belief just now,” continued Horace, seriously. “Simply say nothing about the affair this evening. Talk about something else to him. Stay with us as long as you can, and quietly look the ground over. Then tell me privately what you think.”

      This advice seemed good to Nick. He passed a quiet evening in the house, and nobody but Mrs. Pond referred to the robberies. Horace managed to quiet her quickly.

      But the next morning after breakfast she came to Nick with a very long face.

      “My father has been talking to me,” she said, “and I’m going to lose those jewels surely, unless you do something and do it very quickly. I don’t care for their value, but they’re mine by right, and I mean to keep them if I can. But, of course, I can’t bear to make my father’s life miserable. It will probably end by my compelling my husband to let me give them up.”

      Nick had his doubts about the possibility of such a thing, and they were made certainties very soon afterward.

      Mr. Pond arrived unexpectedly. When the story was told him, he “danced the war-dance,” as our young friend Patsy might have expressed it.

      “You don’t seem to realize the importance of this matter,” he exclaimed. “Why, it’s a million-dollar robbery, that’s what it is! If we give up the jewels, the colonel will give us their value. By jingo, he’ll have to.

      “Well, what’s that but the theft of a million from him?”

      Nick was compelled to confess that it was just that, and nothing else.

      “And who’ll reap the proceeds?” continued Pond. “Why, the Stevenses, of course. Nobody else gets anything out of it. They’re playing on the colonel’s superstitions for a million dollar stake.

      “Now, Mr. Carter, you go ahead and work this thing out. Catch the thief. Don’t let the colonel get you out of the way. If there’s a question of money, I’m good for the best fee you can name.”

      Nick’s first move that day was to go to Mrs. Stevens’ house.

      She lived well on her small income. It was a nice old country-house, with grounds of considerable extent, and a stable in which two good horses were kept.

      Nick rode over there on one of Colonel Richmond’s fine saddle-horses.

      As the detective rode up the winding, shaded walk toward the house, he noticed a man-servant just ahead of him.

      This servant had a newspaper and some letters in his hand. He seemed to have come from the village post-office.

      Leaning over the railing of the veranda, as if waiting for this servant, was one of the handsomest girls Nick had ever seen. She was a beauty of the dashing, dark-eyed type—a girl of courage and strong will.

      The servant gave her the letters just as Nick came in sight. He not only gave her those he had been carrying in his hand, but he drew one from his pocket with a motion that suggested secrecy.

      Nick rode up to the veranda, introduced himself, and asked to see Mrs. Stevens.

      “Let James take your horse,” said the girl. “Come into the house, if you please. I will speak to my mother.”

      Nick went into the cool and pretty parlor. Miss Stevens left the room for a moment, and then returned with her mother.

      The detective spoke of the occurrences of the day before, and requested permission to see the room in which the jewelry had so mysteriously appeared.

      While they were talking thus, it happened that Miss Stevens drew her handkerchief from her pocket, and as she did so two little pieces of paper fell to the floor.

      “So she’s read that letter, and torn it up so soon,” was Nick’s silent comment.

      Almost immediately Miss Stevens said:

      “There’s the mail on the table, mother. I forgot to give it to you. There are several letters.”

      Mrs. Stevens glanced at the addresses.

      “They are all for me,” she said. “Was there nothing for you?”

      “No, indeed,” cried the girl. “There’s nobody who writes letters to me.”

      “Lies to her mother, does she?” said Nick to himself. “Well, it begins to look bad for her.”

      Miss Stevens did not notice the bits of paper on the floor, and Nick by clever work succeeded in getting possession of them.

      Then, by Mrs. Stevens’ permission, he went to look at the room already referred to.

      No sooner was he there than he got rid of the lady upon some plausible excuse, and so had an opportunity of examining the bits of paper.

      They were ordinary letter paper impossible to trace.

      One bit was blank on both sides. The other bore some queer little marks, but no writing. To Nick the marks were quite clear. They were the dots and dashes of the Morse telegraphic alphabet. They represented the letters n, t, b, e, t, r, a, written very small on a narrow scrap, not more than an inch long.

      “Don’t betray,” muttered Nick. “Worse and worse. Miss Stevens will evidently bear watching.”

      As to the room, his inspection of it was of little use. He had not expected much. He had come to see Miss Stevens, principally, and in her case the investigation had certainly begun better than he could have reasonably expected. She was engaged in some secret affair. She concealed letters from her mother. She had bribed one of the servants. This last fact was proven by the manner in which the letter had been delivered to her.

      As he was turning these matters over in his mind, Mrs. Stevens and her daughter entered the room.

      “What have you discovered, Mr. Carter?” asked the girl. “You must know that my mother has told me all about this strange affair, and I am deeply interested.”

      “I have learned nothing,” said Nick, “except that this room can be easily entered, even when the doors are locked.

      “Take this door leading to the rear room, for instance. The key was on this side, it is true, but it turns very easily. A person with a pair of nippers could get in without trouble, and lock the door afterward.

      “I can’t tell from the appearance of the key whether or not this was done, but I think it probable.”

      “You mean that somebody came in here while mother was at lunch, and put the jewels where they were found?”

      “Exactly.”

      “But who could it have been?”

      “I don’t know,” answered Nick, frankly.

      “And how do you explain the presence of that other pin in the box?” asked Mrs. Stevens.

      “There is an explanation,” said Nick; “but I prefer not to give it now.”

      “As you please,” responded the lady, haughtily. “I can only say that I trust you will find this thief speedily, and end this annoyance to which we are being subjected.”

      “I don’t think it ought to be hard for a person of your