it goes without saying that one of the first to buy a paper that afternoon was nick carter. eagerly he scanned the telegraphic columns until he found what he sought. dated from baltimore, the item read as follows: "last night, at st. luke's hospital, a patient who had been under the care of the doctors for several weeks passed away. upon his arrival he had given the name of william jonas, but a few hours before he died he confessed that his true name was arthur mannion, and that the police wanted him for the murder of james playfair, the washington millionaire. he stoutly asserted his innocence, called upon god to hear his word, and died with the name of his wife on his lips."
the great detective very coolly folded the paper and placed it in his pocket. he was not dumfounded over what he had read, though his brow was wrinkled as he walked toward his residence.
he was a passenger that evening on the b. & o. train for baltimore, and the next morning was at st. luke's hospital. the superintendent received him rather coolly, but upon hearing his name became affable at once.
"can i see the body of the man mannion who died here night before last?" nick inquired.
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"unfortunately, no. the burial took place yesterday. it was an aggravated case of typhoid, and we got him underground as soon as possible."
"did he leave any personal property behind?"
"yes. two hundred dollars in bank-notes, each of one hundred dollars, several letters from his wife, addressed to him under the name of jonas, and a few other pocket articles."
"will you allow me to read the letters?"
"certainly. they are in my drawer here. i am waiting to hear from his wife. she was notified yesterday morning, and an answer signed by her father came back, which stated that the blow of her husband's death had prostrated her, and that she was threatened with brain-fever."
the letters were three in number, and all were written within the fortnight preceding the death.
the one bearing the earliest date nick read with amused interest:
"my dear husband: each day is more lonesome since your departure. i shall go mad if things do not turn out as you have planned. get well quick. make those nasty doctors take a special interest in your case. offer them the highest inducement, and if you can't fulfil any agreement you make with them, let me know and i will help you, if i have to sell the gown off my back. that hateful mr. carter is here yet, but from what he told father the other day, i think he will leave for new york in a day or two. we've pulled the wool over his eyes so thoroughly that he is as harmless as a[180] dove. chick, poor man, is about well. he is a good fellow, and i don't think he bears any grudge against me. but patsy—you remember patsy, don't you? he's the boy i told you about—he takes no stock in me. he told me so the other day. he had the impudence to say this to my face. 'young woman,' said he, 'i wouldn't trust you farther than i can sling a cat.' i laughed at him. i could afford to. now, do as i tell you. get well and—you know what our plan is.
"lovingly your own nellie."
the second and third letters showed the writer's anxiety over her husband's condition, which had become serious. in the last letter she said, if he was not better at the end of a week, she would take him to philadelphia and place him under the care of a noted specialist.
nick returned the letters to the superintendent, and then asked for the bank-notes. as he had expected, they belonged to the batch stolen from the body of cora reesey. "with what was mannion afflicted when he came to the hospital?" was his next question.
"a complication of diseases, brought on by exposure. he looked like a tramp when he arrived, and said that for many days he had been sleeping in barns, sheds, and on the ground. typhoid set in a week ago."
"can you give me a description of his person, not omitting any physical peculiarity?"
"yes. he was tall, thin, dark-featured, black-haired—he wore no mustache, had shaved it off, he said—and half of the forefinger of his left hand was missing."
nick's brow clouded for a moment. then from the[181] innermost corner of his brain crept an idea. "doctor," said he, "have you given me a complete description of the dead man? was there not some artificial mark on his left arm?"
"yes; i had forgotten," replied the superintendent apologetically. "there was a castle tattooed on his arm."
"i thought so. one more question, and i am done. did mannion have any visitors, friends, while he was in the hospital?"
"one, his uncle, who came a few days before the typhoid symptoms appeared. mannion said the uncle was the only blood relative he had."
"did they hold long conversations?"
"on the first visit they had a long talk. after that they had not much to say to each other."
"was the uncle an old man?"
"sixty, at least, though he has no gray hairs. an old soldier, i should say, for he was as straight as an arrow, and had but one arm, taken off close to the shoulder."
"what name did he give?"
"peter mannion."
"were you prepossessed in his favor?"
"very much so. he was, or appeared to be, a perfect gentleman."
that evening nick was in washington. after a long talk with chick, he retired to pass a restless night. the next morning chick left the city, taking the baltimore[182] train, but getting off at beltzville. patsy, by another route, left washington in the afternoon.
a few days afterward, while nick was at prosper craven's house, at which he had been a constant visitor, a tall, handsome, elderly man was ushered in by nellie mannion, who, the day before, had risen from a sickbed.
"father," said she, "this is the uncle of arthur. he lives near baltimore, and has come to see me."
nick carter did not remain in the house but a few moments after the uncle's arrival. excusing himself, he went out to give utterance to a soft whistle.
the uncle bore no resemblance to arthur mannion outside of his eyes. there was some similarity in shape, position, and expression. but mannion's hair was black. this man's was light-brown. mannion had full, red lips. this man's were thin and bloodless. mannion had a sharp nose; this man's was broad and full. this man's voice was heavy and harsh. mannion's was a light, musical one. there were other points of dissimilarity, but still the relationship might exist. nick noticed that the uncle wore no sleeve to hide the loss of his arm. from appearances, the arm had been amputated at the shoulder-joint. "and yet, and yet," muttered the detective, under his breath, but without going further.
chick returned three days later.
"got it?" asked nick, with no endeavor to hide his eagerness.
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"yes. luck was with me. i traced mannion from the time he left beltzville until he arrived in baltimore."
chick did not remain in washington but a few hours. another mission of importance took him away. after his departure, nick called on jackson feversham. he did not tell the murdered man's friend all he knew and suspected, for the detective was a stickler for the preservation of the dramatic unities. but he did say this:
"arthur mannion is not dead. preparations are making for the attempted perpetration of a monstrous fraud. if the conspirators knew what we know about the will, the attempt would never be made. but, thanks to the coroner and the local officials, the secret of the copies has been kept, and before many days somebody representing arthur mannion will appear in court and ask, first, to have that bogus will admitted to probate, and second, to have some person—i can name him—appointed administrator of mannion's estate; the estate, of course, being the property which is mentioned in the will drawn in his favor."
"who is this person who will represent mannion?"
nick told feversham about the uncle. "peter mannion is the man. he came to washington to see his nephew's wife, of course, but principally for the purpose of getting hold of the playfair property. playfair himself, being wanted for murder, could not appear, so the scheme that he should die was concocted."
"he is in hiding somewhere not far from here, i suppose?"
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"that is my opinion. and he will know every move that will be made in his behalf. it's a pretty plot, a bold plot, but it hasn't the slightest chance to win."
"how did you discover it? and are you sure that the person who died in the baltimore hospital was not arthur mannion?"
"when i read the announcement of the death," said nick, "my suspicions were aroused. frauds of this kind are no new thing. the criminal records, both of america and europe, are full of them. i had been waiting for mannion or his friends to make some move, and the death scheme, under the circumstances, seemed just the thing. i went to baltimore puzzled as to the manner in which the fraud had been accomplished, but, after my visit to the hospital, i had the whole thing before me as clear as day. some of the details are, as yet, unknown to me, but the fraud itself, the purpose for which it was perpetrated, the plan of conduct which it suggests, all were revealed.
"peter mannion, acting for arthur mannion, arranged the cunning deception, and i must say his work shows the hand of a master artist. the fellow who died was a petty thief, knocker jilson, whom i had known in new york, and who of late years has been hoboing it about the country. he must have fallen in with arthur mannion while mannion was journeying under cover from washington to baltimore. jilson fell sick and went to the hospital; went there, of course, with mannion's money. but the scheme to trick the officers and the[185] public was not broached to jilson until he saw death in the near distance. it must have suggested itself to mannion when he saw that jilson, like himself, had half of his left forefinger missing, and that there was a resemblance between the two men in height, color of hair, and general appearance. what inducements were offered i can only guess. but i don't think i will be far out of the reckoning when i say that the offer meant pecuniary assistance to some relative of jilson's; probably an old mother, whom he had neglected in her days of adversity.
"as it might be unsafe for arthur mannion to appear at the hospital and see that the fraud was carried out, the work fell upon the shoulders of peter, who appears to possess all the qualifications necessary for the purpose. but there was one thing that escaped the notice of the conspirators—the tattooing on jilson's arm. it could never have been observed, otherwise there would have come a hitch in the proceedings. but the tattooing kills the fraud, for, with the missing finger, it positively identifies the dead man as jilson."
"when do you propose exposing the plot, mr. carter?" asked feversham.
"on the day set by the court for hearing the application which i feel assured peter mannion will make. probate day is to-morrow. we must be in court when it opens, but not where peter mannion can see us. if i am not mistaken, he will appear to-morrow, for he is not the man to permit the grass to grow under his feet."
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nick's prediction came true. the next forenoon, after court opened, peter mannion, accompanied by a lawyer of shady reputation, appeared. a will purporting to have been made by arthur mannion and witnessed by prosper craven and emma newton, a neighbor of craven's, was presented for probate. by the terms of this will all the property possessed by the alleged decedent was bequeathed to nellie mannion, the wife, peter mannion, the uncle, being named as sole executor. as the instrument was in due form, it took the usual course, being set for hearing on the next court day. then the matter of playfair's will was taken up at the suggestion of peter mannion's attorney, and the hearing set, also, for the next court day.
on reaching his room after the court-room incidents, nick found patsy. "and your mission. did it succeed?" questioned the great detective.
"it was too easy," replied patsy.
