The Mask of Death; Or Nick Carter's Curious Case, Pt 3

In this episode, we delve into the 1915 dime novel mystery, "The Mask of Death," featuring detective Nick Carter. The story follows Nick and his team as they investigate a bizarre crime committed by the notorious criminal, Mortimer Deland. As they uncover evidence implicating Deland, his alleged sister played by English crook Fanny Coyle and a housekeeper played by an unknown American, the clues leave the team with even more questions to answer.

During the investigation of the stolen casket, Nick's adopted son and fellow detective, Chick Carter, stops at a hotel for lunch and unexpectedly stumbles across Deland and his crew hiding out under an assumed name. Chick decides to wait and watch the couple, hoping to catch them in the act.

The episode ends on a cliffhanger, leaving listeners wondering what Chick has planned for the supposed Deland and Coyle, and if they will finally be caught. Join us as we explore the twists and turns of this thrilling mystery novel and uncover the secrets that lie within its pages.

Theme written by Bernard Kyer for this podcast. Follow the link for more info. https://www.bardmediamusic.com/

Transcript

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Hi friends. And welcome to another exciting episode of forward into the past. I'm JC Rede your host and narrator and today we're continuing the exploits of Nick Carter as he delves deeper into the 1915 mystery, the mask of death or Nick Carter's curious case. Nick Carter, the fictional detective created by John R Correale in the late 19th century is often cited as one of the earliest examples of the detective archetype in literature. His influence on the detective genre is undeniable, but his impact on the superhero archetype is often overlooked. Nick Carter was a highly skilled and intelligent detective who used his wits and cunning to solve crimes. He was physically fit and well-trained in hand-to-hand combat making him a formidable opponent for any villain. His character was popularized in pulp magazines and dime novels, which were widely read by the public at that time. One of the key elements of Nick Carter's character was his sense of justice and his desire to protect the innocent. He was often portrayed as a hero who would go to great lengths to ensure that justice was served. This sense of heroism and selflessness was a precursor to the superhero archetype, which would emerge in the 20th century. The superhero archetype was born out of a need for heroes in a world that was increasingly complex and uncertain. The great depression and world war two had left many people feeling helpless and vulnerable, and the superhero genre provided a sense of hope and inspiration. The first superheroes, such as Superman and Batman were heavily influenced by the detective archetype with their emphasis on justice and their use of intelligence and physical prowess to fight crime. Nick Carter's influence on the superhero archetype can be seen in several key areas. Firstly his emphasis on justice and protecting the innocent was a key element of the superhero genre. Superheroes were often portrayed as defenders of the weak and vulnerable fighting against injustice and oppression. Secondly, Nick Carter's physical prowess and combat skills were also influential. Many superheroes, such as Batman, were highly skilled fighters who used their physical abilities to fight crime. The idea of a hero who was physically fit and highly skilled in combat was an important part of the superhero archetype. Finally Nick Carter's popularity in the pulp magazines and dime novels helped to establish the idea of a hero who was larger than life. Superheroes were often portrayed as larger than life figures who were capable of incredible feats of strength and bravery. This sense of grandeur and spectacle was a key part of the superhero genre. In conclusion. Nick Carter's influence on the superhero archetype can not be overstated. His emphasis on justice, physical prowess and heroism, helped to establish the key elements of the superhero genre. His legacy can still be seen in modern superhero stories, which continue to inspire and entertain audiences around the world. And we will see exactly that inspiration in action as we jump back into the 1915 story, the mask of death or Nick Carter's curious case. Chapter five suspicions verified. Nick Carter knew that he had found one important clue, at least in the threatening communication, which had been left there by Gerald Vaughn, as the latter had been known while occupying the Colonel Barker residence. The very audacity of it moreover was additional evidence of the true identity of the writer. For it corresponded with many, a previous display of effrontery, which had in connection with his extraordinary crimes, made the name of Mortimer Deland, notorious. Nick turned and displayed the letter when Chick and Patsy entered. Do you recognize the hand? He inquired. By Jove, it looks like that which Conroy showed us chick said quickly. I can almost swear to it. I think so, too. We can clinch it easy enough, chief, put in Patsy. I still have the tracery I made. We came away in such a hurry chief that I did not put it in your desk. Let me see it, said Nick, and I will compare them. It took him only a moment to satisfy himself that he was right. There were peculiarities in the fine feminine hand that left him no shadow of a doubt. It is dead open and shut. He declared. Vaughn is none other than Mortimer DeLand. The bizarre character of this crime, moreover is directly in line with his work abroad. That's true, chief for fair said, Patsy. Who else would have thought of using a casket, florist's boxes, and an Undertaker's wagon for getting away with a big lot of plunder? The job. Spells Mortimer Deland, Patsy in capital letters. Nick interrupted. His alleged sister, undoubtedly is Fannie Coyle, the English female crook, Conroy mentioned. Gee, that's right too. The housekeeper said to have died is another Confederate. Nick added. She probably is an American woman however, since such an assistant would have been required by comparative strangers here. The undertaker and his assistant also must be in league with them. Chick argued. Yes, undoubtedly. Nick agreed. Otherwise the two men would have detected and exposed the fraud. They would have known whether the casket contained a corpse and the pasteboard boxes, a quantity of flowers, or whether they were packed with other articles. They could not have been so egregiously deceived, even though they did not open them and were employed only to take them to a railway station. Surely not Nick, if they have brains, chick declared. That's the point I had in mind. I shall not be surprised if we find the casket still in the house. And that only the outside box was used for removing the plunder. It would contain more and could be more easily packed. Let's find out, said Chick. The casket was on a bier in the parlor last evening. He led the way while speaking. And again, Nick's prediction proved to be correct. The casket was found standing on end behind the parlor door. The standards on which it had rested the previous evening, were back of a sofa. The entire robbery was, as Nick had said, Of a bizarre character and originality of conception that alone proclaimed the identity of the knave who had designed and directed it. There appears to be nothing for us now, but to get after the Rascals, said chick, a bit impatiently. They have a start of more than an hour. We may be able to trace them, nevertheless, if we get a move on and. We shall be more likely to meet with success chick. If we make haste slowly. Nick interposed. There is no telling where they have gone. It is perfectly safe to assume, nevertheless, that they did not go to a railway station as stated. They will not let others handle those boxes nor attempt to transport them in any other conveyance than the wagon with which they are provided. But it's an Undertaker's wagon, Nick and we ought to be able to trace it. Chick argued more forcibly. There are a hundred such wagons on the move this morning Chick, and it would be impossible to trace this particular one. Nick insisted. There would be nothing in that. Oh, you may be right. I know I am right. We must take advantage of the difficulties involving the Rascals themselves, instead of going up against those they have put in our way. What do you mean? No undertaker is engaged in this robbery said Nick confidently. DeLand and his Confederates have contrived in some way to obtain a casket, the florist boxes and an undertakers team. We must find out where they came from, if possible, and try to discover the identity of DeLand's male Confederates. The supposed undertaker and his assistant? Exactly. They probably are local crooks. Also the woman who posed as the housekeeper. If we can identify one of them, even, we shall have picked up a thread that may lead us to the entire gang. Well, there is something in that, Chick admitted. The trunks containing the belongings of the three crooks who have been living here must've been taken away several days ago, or by night perhaps. Nick went on. Deland would not have deferred their removal until this morning. Surely not. It is barely possible of course, that the Hackman who was here this morning was in league with them. But I do not think it probable. We must hunt him up therefore, and find out where he took DeLand and Fannie Coyle this morning. You appear to have no doubt of their identity, Nick. Not the slightest. Gee, it looks like a cinch chief for fair put in Patsy. Bear in mind too, that we have one unsuspected advantage over this rascal, Nick added. What is that? He doesn't even dream of course, that we are informed of his identity. He undoubtedly has been living here in disguise. He will discard it now and take another alias, confident that no one will recognize him or even think of Mortimer DeLand as the perpetrator of this robbery. That's more than likely Nick. And we ought to derive some advantage from it. I think we shall chick having seen the photograph Conroy brought round. Feeling thus confident. Moreover, DeLand is daring enough to go straight to a first-class hotel with Fannie coil posing in entirely new characters. It will be well to inspect some of the hotel registers in search of his writing. There are possibilities in all that, Nick. Chick readily admitted. Bear in mind too, the difficulties involved in disposing of the plunder from an Undertaker's wagon, said Nick. Where would the Rascals take it? Not to a private residence for the wagon would attract the attention of the neighbors and give rise to inquiries that might result in speedy exposure. If taken to an isolated house, the wagon would be seen going there and investigations might follow. The Rascals would not take those chances. I agree with you. Chick nodded. Nor will they trust their load to any railway company nor to transportation by others. Surely not. How then would they dispose of it? Where would they naturally take it? Well, that's the question, Nick. Gee, it's some question too. They might of course drive to some point out of the city, where they could transfer it undetected to an ordinary wagon. In which it could be quickly taken to some place of concealment. Or it might be hidden in some Woodland section and afterward removed. There really seems to be no other safe way of disposing it. Said Chick. Don't be too sure of that. Nick advised. Deland is crafty and ingenious. He may have hit upon an entirely different method, one, so novel and original. That it does not occur to us. Well, possibly. Be that as it may, Chick, we will take up the trail as we find it. Nick said abruptly. I will return to Strickland's apartments and give him a few instructions. Then I'll be off for a talk with the agent in charge of this house. He may impart something worth knowing. Well, it's worth trying at least. You get next to a telephone and a directory in the meantime and call up all of the local undertakers. Find out whether one of them has an extra wagon and has rented it or. I understand chief. Chick cut in with a nod. Learn what you can from him, in that case, and be governed accordingly. Trust me for that. While we are thus engaged, Patsy, you get after the cabmen and the local express drivers. Find out if possible, who took away. The crooks trunks put in Patsy. I got you chief, hands down. You don't need to tell me what to do in a case of this kind. Very good said Nick. Telephone to the house. Any discovery you make, providing circumstances prevent you from returning. Otherwise, we'll meet there as usual. That's all except to dig in tooth and nail to trace these Rascals. It was by then nine o'clock. Precisely two hours had passed since the departure of Mortimer DeLand and Fannie coil. And the undertakers wagon filled with the stolen treasures. Chapter six, a man of nerve. While Nick Carter returned to the Strickland flat to impart such information and instructions, as would serve his purpose. Chick Carter parted from Patsy on the corner of fifth avenue, and then hastened home to use the telephone and directory. Instead of calling up the local undertakers, however, chick decided that he would first ascertain from police headquarters, whether the theft of such extraordinary articles as a casket and an Undertaker's team had been reported to the police. He had no great hope of hitting the trail so quickly. But he was agreeably disappointed. Yes, Chick, sure. Was the reply by a Sergeant who responded and to whom the detective had mentioned his name. Both were stolen three days ago from a. A Michael Hanlin, a Harlem undertaker. I've seen nothing published about it. Said Chick. The facts have been suppressed, pending an investigation. Do you know any of the details? No, nothing more. I'll get them for you. I will not trouble you. I will look them up for myself. Do you know anything about the case? No more than you Chick replied, evasively. He then hung up the receiver and started for Harlem to interview Michael Hanlin and in search for more definite evidence. Very little could be found, however, nor could Hanlin impart much information. He stated that the casket had been stolen from a storeroom in the basement of his establishment, and the wagon from a stable back of the building, both occupying a lot, adjoining his residence. The stable opened upon a side street, however, and the wagon evidently had been drawn out and taken away with a horse belonging to the thieves, his own not having been removed from its stall. If it had been Mr. Carter, I should have heard the Rascals, Hanlin declared after imparting the foregoing facts. I would have heard the hooves on the floor. That probably is the only reason why the crooks brought a horse of their own and drew out the wagon quietly said Chick. Most likely. The police could find no clue as to their identity, eh? No, sir. The Rascals got away clean enough, sir. And I am out the casket and the wagon, I'm thinking. Hanlin grumbled bitterly. Chick then had nothing to offer him in the way of encouragement having found no evidence worthy of note, and he returned to the nearest elevated station alighting from the train half an hour later at 42nd street. It then was after one o'clock, too late for lunch at home. Chick decided to take it in one of the excellent hotels in that locality. As he was about to enter the cafe however, one of Nick's earlier suggestions occurred to him. There might be something in it. He muttered. I'll go up to the office instead and have a look at the register. He did so, and verified the sagacity of the famous detective. Almost the first entry that met Chick's gaze, inscribed in that same fine clean cut hand of which he had seen specimens that day was that of Charles F. Brooks and wife, Washington, DC. Great guns, thought chick surprised in spite of himself. Have I really cornered the rats so quickly. If that isn't DeLand's hand or that of Gerald Vaughn at least, I'll eat my hat. Instead of plunging over the traces however, Chick turned to the clerk and remarked. I see that Mr. And Mrs. Brooks are here from Washington. Yes, they arrived this morning, said the clerk's smiling. Are they frequent visitors? Well, quite so. Not strangers then. Oh, no, they are here each month and sometimes more frequently. Chick took a blank card from a tray and wrote a fictitious name on it. Adding that of a leading newspaper. Send this up to their suite, please. He requested, they may like to be mentioned in the society notes. Yes, certainly! Nodded the clerk. Front. To seven 10. If they are mentioned in the society notes I anticipate, however I'll wager they will not like it. Chick mentally added. The bell hop in blue and brass returned in a very few minutes. You are to come up, sir, he announced. This way, sir. Chick followed him to the elevator. They certainly apprehend nothing, he reasoned. They may, as Nick inferred, feel entirely safe from suspicion or absolutely sure that their identity and connection with the robbery can not be established. I'll wager however that I can take the wind out of their sails. If they don't weaken when they see me or betray some sign of recognition. Well, their nerve will surpass that of a wooden Indian. I'm dead sure I'm not mistaken. There is no mistaking that writing. They must be the suspected couple in spite of the clerk's statements about them, or I'm no judge of. Chick had arrived at the door of the suite and his train of thought ended. The page knocked on the door, then bowed and hurried away. A voice within called agreeably. Come in. Chick opened the door and was met in the entrance hall by an erect slender man in a plaid suit. His face was as fair and smooth as that of a girl. His skin was peculiarly clear and pale, though his complexion was dark and his eyes remarkably brilliant. Chick had staggered for a moment. His face was like that of Gerald Vaughn yet not like it. The flowing black mustache was gone and there was no sign of it nor of a beard through this man's clear white skin. It was too like the photographed face of Mortimer Deland, but that was so small as to preclude positive identification. What most amazed Chick, however, was the fact that he was received without the slightest sign of recognition, without the least betrayal of perturbation, despite that his visit could not possibly have been anticipated. For all this nevertheless Chick instantly came to one positive conclusion. A correct one. He's my man. Flashed through his mind. This is Gerald Vaughn and Mortimer Deland. I'd stake my life on it. While Chick was thus taking his measure. DeLand was approaching from an attractively furnished parlor, bowing and smiling. Walk in Mr. Alden said he glancing at the card that he still retained in his slender white hand. Walk in and have a chair. Let me introduce my wife, Mrs. Brooks. Chick again, was staggered even more staggered than before. The woman who arose to greet him was tall and fair. She was fashionably clad. Her eyes were blue. Her hair was a deep Auburn hue. Her smile was captivating. Her teeth were like pearls. She bore, not the slightest resemblance to Clarissa Vaughn. She was not even remotely suggestive of the black veil figure that had left the Barker residence that morning in company with Gerald Vaughn. Chick steadied himself. He realized on the instant that he was up against a man or couple fully as crafty, daring and farsighted as the letter left for Nick had implied. He realized too, in view of their absolute unconcern, that he had perhaps gone a step too far and that they might be prepared to foil the best work he could do at that time. For the recovery of the stolen Strickland treasures was of even greater importance to him in so far as the outcome of the case was concerned, than the positive identification and arrest of Mortimer Deland and his companion. That this woman was Fannie coil, however, chick felt reasonably sure. And again, he was right. I am very pleased to meet you, Mr. Alden, I'm sure. Said the woman smiling graciously and extending her hand. Thank you said Chick, bowing. Have a chair. Deland repeated. Your card states that you are a newspaper man, a reporter. Why, may I ask, have you favored us with a call? Am I to be subjected to an interview. Would you object to it? Chick enquired tentatively. Deland laughed slightly and displayed his teeth. Not at all. He replied. I would in fact. Rather like it. It would be amusing to see my name in print. I'll be glad to give you any information I possess on whatever subject I can enlighten you. That is very kind. Mr. Vaughn, I'm sure. Said chick steadily eyeing him. Vaughn queried Deland with brows lifted. Fannie coil laughed audibly. Oh, pardon? I got my names mixed. Said chick dryly, observing that he had evoked no sign of apprehensions. I'm looking into a case of robbery committed in fifth avenue last night of which a man named Gerald Vaughn is suspected. Ah, I see. Deland exclaimed pleasantly. That is why you happen to call me by that name. Exactly. The mistake is quite pardonable Charles I'm sure. Remarked the woman. Yes, indeed. Deland bowed agreeably. We know of course that Mr. Alden has not called to interview us about a robbery. I should think not! That would be absurd. I'll leave it to you, Mr. Alden. On the contrary, Mr. Brooks, that is the only reason why I've called said Chick. Ah, is it possible questioned Deland with unruffled suavity. Well, that does surprise me. What information do you expect from me? Any that you can give me. But I can not give you any insisted the land with a ripple of laughter. I know nothing about the case nor the person you have mentioned. What led you to infer that I do? Chick abruptly decided on another tack. Only because Vaughn is known to be a resident of Washington, said he. Observing on the hotel register that you dwell in that city, I thought you might possibly know of him or have heard of him. If you do not. Let me assure you at once Mr. Alden on that point. Deland put in smiling. I have never heard of him. Nor I, Charles I'm sure, observed the woman. Lest you may entertain any erroneous suspicions. Mr. Alden, let me call up the proprietor of the hotel. Deland added, rising to go to the telephone. He knows me quite well. He will vouch for me. He will assure you that I am entirely veracious and. Pardon. Chick checked him with a gesture, rising to go. Do nothing of the kind. Your word alone. Mr. Brooks is quite sufficient. I had not the slightest idea that you know anything about the robbery. I thought merely that you might know Vaughn or have heard of him. I do not. Mr. Alden, I assure you. I am now convinced of that. And I am sorry I troubled you. No trouble, whatever said Deland, extending his hand. I am on the contrary very pleased we met you. Such episodes really amuse me. I hope to meet you again, Mr. Alden. We shall meet again all right. Chick said grimly to himself after departing. We shall meet again, Mr. Deland, and I'll then fit bracelets on your slender white wrists. Bluff me eh? Give me the laugh, will you? I'll cram all that down your throat a little later. At the same time by Jove. I give you credit for more nerve and audacity than any rascal I have recently met, but I'll get you all right at the proper time. Chick had only one reason for not arresting Deland then and there. The attitude of the rascal together with the assurance he had displayed, convinced Chick that the stolen property had been disposed of in some locality felt to be perfectly safe and that its recovery might be perverted by the immediate arrest of this couple. I'll wait a while and watch them. He said to himself while returning to the elevator. I know that I have given them a fright, despite the coolness of both. And they surely will make some move that will put me in right. Apprehending that it might be made immediately. Chick found concealment under the rise of stairs from which he could see the door of suite 10. He waited and watched for more than an hour, but no one left or visited the suite. And then he returned to the hotel office and talked with the proprietor. The latter confirmed the statements already made by the clerk. That the couple had been occasional guests of the house during several months and were supposed to be reputable, Washington people. Beyond that, however, he knew nothing about them. Deland is crafty thought Chick after the interview. He wanted to establish someplace to which he could flee if necessary divested of the disguise he had been wearing in the character of Gerald Vaughn. And where his pretensions would be backed up in a measure by the hotel proprietor. That has been his object in coming here occasionally with Fanny Coyle. But what has become of the dark woman I saw last night. It was she who left the Barker residence with Deland this morning. By Jove, I have it. Fanny Coyle was the housekeeper. She has been stopping here ever since her pretended death. I'll have the entire gang too, before I quit this trail. Chick continued to wait and watch. Twice he telephone home to communicate with Nick or Patsy, but neither of them had returned. And he decided to continue playing a lone hand. The afternoon waned and early evening came and Chick could see from the street that the windows of suite 710, were brightly lighted. He felt reasonably sure that neither of its occupants had departed. Returning to the hotel office, about seven o'clock. He heard the ringing of the telephone bell, and then the voice of the clerk addressing a hallboy, just approaching from a side corridor. It's 710 called the clerk. A taxi is wanted. Mullen is at the side door, sir. Replied the hallboy. Good enough. Tell him to wait there. All right, sir. Chick Carter had pricked up his ears. And his eyes were glowing, more brightly. A taxi, eh. He muttered heading for the side door. By the rats in 710, eh? By JoVE here's my chance. It's Mullen for mine. What has Chick got planned for the supposed Charles F. Brooks and wife from Washington? Are they really, as chick suspects, Mortimer, Deland, and Fanny Coyle? And why didn't they recognize Chick? We'll answer these and other questions in the final thrilling episode of the mask of death or Nick Carter's curious case. Boy. This story is getting better and better. Don't you think? I sure do. And if you agree with me, Well, why not help me out a bit and become a monthly supporter of the show. Are you a fan of classic stories and radio dramas. Do you enjoy listening to podcasts that transport you back in time? Well, then forward into the past is the perfect podcast for you. Featuring me as your host and narrator, this podcast features readings of classic stories that may have otherwise disappeared. However producing a high quality podcast requires resources and supplies. By becoming a monthly supporter on buy me a coffee, you can help ensure that forward into the past continues to bring you the best in classic storytelling. Your support will help cover production costs and allow me to continue sharing these timeless tales with listeners around the world. So what are you waiting for? Become a monthly supporter today. Just follow the link on your favorite podcast platform. Or visit the podcast website@forwardintothepastpodcast.com. Or shoot me a message on Facebook, Twitter, or WhatsApp. And there I go rambling again. Man. I've got to stop doing that. All right friends until next time. Thanks for listening. Keep sharing the stories and be a good human. Bye for now.