The Mask of Death; Or Nick Carter's Curious Case, Pt 4

 In this episode, JC Rede concludes the exciting Nick Carter mystery, The Mask of Death, and discusses the impact of Street and Smith's Detective Story Magazine on the development of detective fiction in the early 20th century. Patsy Garvin's investigation leads him to Jim Margate's place, where he overhears a conversation between Margate, Bob Pittman, and Mortimer Deland. Deland reveals himself to be the mastermind behind the crime and boasts about his abilities to outsmart the police. Additionally, Patsy Garvin follows the Rascals to uncover their destination and hides under the wagon to avoid detection. In the new context, Nick Carter suspects that the stolen Strickland treasures may be entombed in the old cemetery at Colonel Barker's place. He visits the Sexton of the cemetery, Jason Dexter, and learns that Deland had asked to use the Barker tomb to store a body for a few days. Nick's suspicion is aroused, and he investigates further, setting the stage for the final showdown in the next episode. 

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Transcript

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Hi friends and welcome to another episode of forward into the past. I'm JC Ray day, your host and narrator. And today we're finishing up the exciting Nick Carter mystery, the mask of death, or Nick Carter's curious case. Street and Smith, the publishing company that created Nick Carter stories. Was a publishing company that had a significant impact on the development of detective stories in the early 20th century. The company had launched detective story magazine in 1915 one of the first pulp magazines devoted to the detective fiction genre. The magazine featured short stories and cereals by various authors, some of whom became very famous for their contributions to detective fiction. Among them were, sir. Arthur Conan Doyle. Agatha Christie sax Rohmer and Edgar Wallace. Detective story magazine also influenced the creation of other popular characters and media in the field of detective fiction. In 1930 stories from the magazine were adapted for a radio program called detective story hour narrated by a mysterious voice known only as the shadow. The popularity of this character led to the publication of the shadow magazine in 1931 a pulp series that introduced one of the most iconic heroes of detective fiction. The success of the shadow, also inspired street and Smith to revive another detective character. Nick Carter who had his own pulp series and radio show. But by this time, Nick had been recast as a hard-boiled detective like Sam spade or Mike hammer. Street Smith's detective story magazine lasted until 1949. Publishing well over a thousand issues in its 34 year run. It was one of the longest running and most influential pulp magazines in the history of detective fiction. It helped to shape the genre by introducing new styles. Themes and techniques to its readers. It also showcased some of the best writers and stories of detective fiction. And spawned other media that expanded the genres reach and appeal. And now we reach the conclusion of a Nick Carter mystery that was written at the very same time as the launch of detective story magazine. From 1915, here's the exciting conclusion of the mask of death or Nick Carter's curious case. Chapter seven. Playing A Lone hand. Patsy Garvin following the instructions Nick Carter had given him did not ring a bullseye until four o'clock that afternoon. He then rounded up the Hackman he had been seeking. Patsy recognized his face and discovered him standing beside his carriage in front of a hotel on 44th street. You're the very man I want said he confronting him. Have a look at this. Patsy displayed the detective badge under the lapel of his vest. Sharply watching the Hackman's ruddy face, however, he saw at a glance that his hearer felt no alarm or consternation as would have been the case. If he was guilty of anything wrong. His countenance took on a look of mild surprise, nevertheless and he surprised Patsy also by saying with a sort of gruff hardiness. You don't need to show me that Garvin. Ah, you know me then. Said Patsy. Sure there are mighty few dicks I don't know, by sight. None in your class Garvin, as far as that goes. Well, thanks. Smiled Patsy. What's your name? Pat Mulligan. A namesake of mine, eh. Well, I reckon so grinned Mulligan. What do you want? I know you haven't started the spiel with me for nothing. This is between us mind you. Well, that goes without saying. You took a couple from a house on fifth avenue at seven o'clock this morning. Sure. Where the stiff was being taken away. Yeah, that's the place. What do you know about the couple. Nothing. Said Mulligan, but a curious gleam lighted his eyes. I went there on a telephone order. Where did you take them? The grand central terminal. They had no luggage. So I did not go in with him. That was the last I saw of them. Did you see the Undertaker's wagon again? Not after it left the house said Mulligan. I supposed it was heading for the baggage station room. I know nothing more of it. I believe you Mulligan said Patsy. You know something nevertheless that you haven't told me, I can read that in your eyes. Well, you've got keen ones, Garvin. All right. Mulligan said with a laugh. Well taint much. Come across, what is it? All right. I seen a woman coming out of that house who don't stand ACE high. She pretends to be all right, but between you and me, Garvin she's as clever and crooked a jade as you'll find from Harlem to the battery. Harlem. That's where she hangs out when she's at home. Well, what's her name? Questioned Patsy with increasing interest. Nell Margate. Nell Margate, any relation to Jim Margate of Harlem. She's his sister. Oh, is that so. Thought Patsy, who not only knew Jim Margate personally, but also knew him to be a decidedly, bad character. Margate sister eh? If you knew Nel Margate to be in that house Mulligan, why didn't you tip someone to that fact? Who, a Dick. Yeah. Why would I, said Mulligan with a depricatory shake of his head. It was no funeral of mine. How could I know why she was there. A crook is always out for crooked work. Yeah, but I'm not hired to catch them Garvin like you, said Mulligan. Many a crook has paid me good money. It isn't up to me to stool pigeon for the police. I've got to shut my eyes and keep my trap closed, or I might get mine for not doing it. I wouldn't have mentioned this only I know I might get in wrong for not telling you since you questioned me about it. Anything more you can tell me? Asked Patsy. Devil a thing. You've got all I can hand you. When did you see Nell Margate leaving the Barker residence? Well something like a week ago. Can you describe her? Yeah. She's a well-built dark girl, about 25 years old Mulligan responded. Oh She's a good Looker Garvin and makes the most of it. Being clever too. She gets by with many, a stunt. I happen to know all this Garvin because Jim Margate's place isn't far from my own. In one of the outskirts? Isn't it. Yeah, pretty well out. The old man used to run it for a Roadhouse. There's been nothing doing since he died. Well, that is nothing on the surface. Mulligan pointedly added. Patsy knew exactly what he meant. That Margate's place was the resort of crooks. He slipped Mulligan a bank note remarking. Forget all this. Also forget what we've said. You bet. So long. Patsy stepped into the hotel and tried to telephone Nick, but Joseph told him that he had not returned. Also that chick though he had telephoned an hour before had left no message. Nothin' doin thought Patsy returning to the street. I'll keep going then on my own hook. Nell Margate eh? Well, she was the woman Chick saw last night. Mulligan's description fits her to the letter. I guess it's up to me, by Jove, to have a look at Jim Margate's place. It's no crazy bet that Deland and Nell Margate are there. If not the whole knavish bunch. Well I'll soon find out. Patsy was already acting upon these resolutions. Nearly an hour later or soon after five, o'clock found him stealing cautiously along a sparsely settled road within half a mile of the Harlem river. His features carefully disguised and his movements, those of one having no definite destination and view. Presently, nevertheless, after crossing a number of vacant lots piled with refuse and rubbish, Patsy picked his way through the trees and underbrush still covering a belt of land in that section. And finally brought up back of an old, stable and dwelling fronting another road from which both were somewhat shut in by a few remaining trees. The surroundings were uninviting, however, and the place somewhat isolated. Having shaped the course that precluded observation from the windows of the old wooden house. Patsy crawled under a fence back of the stable and succeeded in finding concealment in an old shed nearby from which he could see the back door and windows of the dwelling. It appeared to be deserted. Most of the faded curtains were drawn down. The door of the near stable was closed moreover, denoting that it was unoccupied. The yard in front of it and the ill kept ground surrounding the house looked desolate and dismal in the waning light of the cloudy November day. Gee! It don't look like much business, muttered Patsy, after a cautious survey of the place. Well, I've blundered perhaps in coming out here. The Rascals may have sought shelter somewhere else. They may have their other headquarters where no, by gracious, those are recent footprints in front of the stable. The dirt turned over by the horse's shoes is hardly dry. But there are no very recent wheel tracks judging from. By Jove, I think I better have a look in that stable. I'll never have a better chance. Patsy invariably acted promptly upon a definite impulse. Stealing from the shed. He found an open space under the rear of the stable half filled with straw and refuse, above which was a trap door through the floor. Crawling up amid the festoons of cobwebs. He raised it cautiously and found himself directly under a large wagon. There's no one here. He murmured after listening, that's a cinch. I'll go a step farther. Drawing himself up through the opening. He dropped the trap door and crept from under the wagon. He then discovered in the dim light that it was an Undertaker's wagon. Gee whiz I've struck oil all right. He said to himself with a thrill of satisfaction. If the plunder is here. No by gracious. It's gone. Patsy had opened the rear door and found that the wagon was empty. Further inspection revealed that the brass name plate on each side had been skillfully altered with a coat of gilding and that it bore a name, obviously fictitious. By Jove, I've got a sure line on the gang at least thought Patsy, after these investigations. Under the mask of death, so to put it, they've succeeded in turning this knavish trick. But where is the plunder? Well, that's the question. I better sneak out and telephone to the chief, I guess, and then return and watch this place. I can direct him to it. And. Patsy's train of thought ended abruptly. So suddenly as to preclude any extensive move. The heavy tread of men's feet sounded on the wooden run in front of the stable, and a key was thrust into the padlock of the door. Patsy knew that a successful retreat through the trap door was utterly impossible. He sought the nearest police of concealment, a corner back of a grain chest that stood under the overhang of a rear haymow. He no sooner had dropped out of sight than the broad sliding door was opened wide enough to admit three men. Looking cautiously over the grain chest. Patsy immediately recognized two of them. It's Jim Margate and a well-known running mate of his Bob Pittman, a pair of desperate blacklegs. The third man was Mortimer Deland. He was laughing in a cold mirthless way while he followed the two more roughly clad man into the stable saying at the same time. Oh, I easily gave him the slip by sneaking down the servants' stairway. Fannie and Nell will make a quick getaway later. Leave that to fan. They'll show up here during the evening. Fan will slip out from under his guns. All right. Do you think he knew you. Margate asked while all three seated themselves on some empty boxes near the partly open door. Know me? Sure he knew me said DeLand, still laughing icily. I suspected what was coming when he set up his card. The phony name did not blind me. Not much. By Jove, either Nick or Chick has seen and interviewed this rascal thought Patsy easily hearing all that was said. This must be Deland himself who has been posing as Gerald Vaughn. I sent Nell into the next room, which connects with Fan's suite and then told the bellhop to send him up. Was he in disguise? No, nothing doing grinned DeLand with teeth gleaming. He wasn't dead sure of us, you know? And he hoped we'd weaken when we saw him. He don't know us, Jim. You don't suppose he knew me when we lugged out the stuff this morning do you? Question Margate apprehensively. Or me Mort? Put in Pitman. The undertaker and his assistant thought Patsy. That was nearly a cinch before. Knew you? Exclaimed Deland, derisively. That's rot. How could he have known either of you through the disguise I loaned you? No, no. You're away all right. Well that listens good to me said Pittman. But these Carters are infernally sharp dicks. They got eyes like needles. Well, they better watch out then, lest they lose them. Deland said more seriously and his voice and countenance, evinced a devilish streak in his nature. I left Nick Carter, a word of warning to that effect this morning. If he presses me too closely, hang him, he shall feel my teeth. He don't dream who I really am and of what I am capable. Any gink capable of the roof stunt you did last night can do anything. Said Margate with an approving scowl. You're the real thing Deland and then some, or you couldn't have framed up such a job as this and pulled it off. Ah, childsplay Jim. said Deland coldly, a kid's stunt. Has Ruff gone after the wagon? Sure. He'll come with it after dark. We must transfer the stuff as early as possible. Early why early? It strikes me late would be better. No, no wagons are not out late where we're going said DeLand. Some guy might take it into his head to watch us. No, no, Jim. The earlier the better after darkness gathers, there's no danger of our being seen in the road back of the last bedroom. It's going and coming that's risky. So the earlier the better. Ah, that's true. Maybe. Margate allowed. I'm not so sure the hiding place is safe at that. If the newspapers. There's nothing in the newspapers Deland interrupted. I've made sure of that. Besides rough has had an eye on the place most of the day. He'd have reported any investigations. Sure. As far as that goes. It's as safe as a wall street bank vault Deland confidently added. Who would think of looking there for it? It beats taking the risk of coming straight here this morning. For all, we afterward took a chance with a big black wagon. Ah, maybe so. Margate again, allowed. We're banking on your judgment. I never went wrong in my life. Said Deland. Look me up across the water. You'll find that no bloomin' inspector ever put Darby's on me. An American detective will do so, thought Patsy. I'll bet my pile on that. It will be a good night for the job. Deland added gazing out at the sky. Cloudy and dark. What more could we ask? We'll wait here till Ruff returns with the wagon. That won't be long, said Pittman. It'll be dark in half an hour. Well, gee whiz. There's no getaway for me. Thought Patsy wondering where the Rascals were going though their mission was obvious. I couldn't steal out unheard if I had the feet of a fly. I'll stick close to these rats, therefore, and let come what may. If they undertake to shift their plunder. Well, There'll be something doing all right. Let me get my lamps on it and I'll hold up the whole bunch. Single-handed. Chapter eight. In gruesome confinement. What more Patsy Garvin heard was along much the same lines as that which he had already heard but none of it gave him any clue to the contemplated destination of Deland and his confederates. Dusk began to gather within half an hour and darkness quickly followed. Margate lighted a small lantern. So hooding it with an empty box that it's rays could not be seen from the outside, but in its feeble glow, the three crooks continued to sit and discuss their knavery. Their faces and figures looked grim and threatening in the dim light cast upon them. Presently still crouching behind the grain chest. Patsy heard the thud of hooves and the grinding of wheels in the gravel. And Margate arose at the same time saying quickly. Here comes rough with the wagon. I told you he'd show up promptly. Good enough cried Deland. We'll lose no time in getting away. I've got to go back to the house for my cap. Growled Margate. Go ahead. That won't take long, eh, Jim? Wait till I douse this glim. There would be something doing all right. If this dead wagon was seen here. It has been seen you rascal and I can see your finish. Thought Patsy with grim satisfaction. He had heard the arrival of the wagon drawn up near the front of the stable. He heard Ruff greeting Deland and Pitman when they hastened out. He saw Margate extinguish the light, then stride out and close the door following by the sharp click of the padlock. Patsy stole out from behind the grain chest in the inky darkness. Then crawled under Hanlon's huge black wagon and found the iron ring in the trap door. It's the same old way for mine. He muttered while he noiselessly opened the trap. I'll not let these rats give me the slip. I'll find out where they're going and where they take their plunder at least if I get no chance to hold them up, I'll get'em sooner or later by thunder. If it takes a leg. Indulging in these cogitations Patsy dropped quietly through the opening and without waiting to close it, he crept out through the open space, under the stable and to a point between it and the old shed nearby. He could then see the wagon some 10 feet away and headed toward the street. It was a large covered one and it stood nearly opposite of the space between the two. And it stood nearly opposite the space between the two buildings. The driver had not left his seat. Pittman and Mortimer Deland had already climbed in and were seating themselves on two boxes under the leather top, that occupied by rough being too small for all four. Patsy could hear them talking and he now saw Jim Margate returning from the house. Gee! They may give me a long chase. He said to himself, crouching low in the darkness. If they drive fast, I may have some difficulty in keeping up with them. Or. He broke off abruptly, crouching, lower and peering intently through the darkness. By Jove, the running gear of the wagon is braced from the end of the axle tree to the center pole. He added to himself. The braces form sort of platform under the floor of the wagon. There's room enough for me to lie on them if I can contrive to get there. The Springs will not give much under the light load to be carried. It'll beat walking by Jove and remove the risk of losing sight of the Rascals. I'll do it by gracious unless. Patsy did not stop to consider the alternative. He saw Margate climbing into the wagon while Ruff gathered up the reigns. It was the only opportunity he would have and well, Patsy knew it and he did not hesitate for an instant. He darted out in the darkness and crawled quickly between the rear wheels. The voices of the four men drowned the faint sounds he could not avoid causing. Dropping flat on his back, under the middle of the wagon and parallel with it. Patsy reached up and grabbed the central pole with both hands then quickly twined his legs around it. Giddy up. Growled rough. And the wagon started. As quick as a flash, knowing that any jar of the wagon would be attributed to running over a rock, patsy swung himself over the pole and wormed himself upon the braces front and rear. He then found that he had ample room and that he would probably not be seen by persons passing on their way. But the position was a trying one taxing nerves and muscle to maintain it. I'll stick by thunder. Let come with may. He said to himself, gritting his teeth while the wagon jolted out of the driveway and into the rough road. I'll not be shaken down while I have fingers to cling with. It proved to be as rough a ride nevertheless, as Patsy Garvin had ever experienced. He had to give his entire attention to retaining his position. He at no time could tell just where he was or whither he was going. He knew only that he brought up in a lonely, somewhat wooded section after a last mile, over the roughest kind of a road and the wagon then came to a sudden stop. There's no show of stealing out, thought Patsy with every nerve and muscle strained and aching. I must take a chance with the Rascals will not see me. The four men already were climbing down from the wagon, Ruff and Jim Margate in advance. The latter scarce had alighted on the ground when Patsy heard him ask with a fierce growl. What that devils that. What? Snapped Deland, joining him. That white thing under the wagon. It, it looks like a handkerchief. A handkerchief it was, as a matter of fact, jolted from Patsy's pocket, just at that fatal moment when the wagon stopped and fallen to the ground to betray him. Ah, gee, it's all off and I'm caught dead sure flashed through his mind. I can't even pull a gun. Deland had crouched quickly to get the handkerchief and his gaze fell upon Patsy. His eyes took on a quick fiery glow. With invariable coolness, nevertheless, he whipped out a revolver and said, sharply. Not only a handkerchief Jim, but also its owner. What do you mean? Margate snarled. See for yourself, snapped Deland. Don't stir till I give you permission, you spying whelp or there'll be holes made in you. Oh, I'm not going to stir. Patsy said coolly, thoroughly disgusted with the unfortunate turn of affairs. I'm not that sure that I can stir as far as that goes. You'll be dead if you do. Take my word for it. Drop down on the ground. Patsy obeyed, falling with a thud when he let go of his support. He could not have clung on much longer. Get him by the legs, Jim, and pull him out. Deland commanded. Watch that he don't reach for a gun. If he does, blast him, I'll break his head. Margate snarled while he and Pitman seized Patsy's heels and dragged him from under the wagon. Bring a piece of rope said Deland, with revolver ready. Stand him on his feet, Jim. Do you know him? Patsy saw that resistance would be nothing less than madness. He suffered the two ruffians to yank him to his feet. And when they did so, his disguise was jostled out of place. Margate saw it and jerked it from his face. Perdition! He recoiled with a gasp. Why it's young Garvin one of Nick Carter's push. Deland came nearer till the muzzle of his revolver touched Patsy's breast. He did not appear to be in the least disturbed by the discovery. Not more than when Chick had intruded upon him that morning. His nerves were apparently as stiff as steel. Oh, is that so he inquired, icily. Are you sure of that, Jim? I ought to be, hang him. Oh, we'll do better than hang him, said Deland with an ominous gleam in his cold eyes. Garvan, eh? Well. What sent you out here? I came to see what you Rascals were after, said Patsy curtly. Did you? Sneered Deland. Well. You shall not be disappointed. You shall see all that we do until we depart. Well, that's good enough for me. But after then you will see nothing. Deland added with a merciless smile. Patsy did not deign to reply. He glanced sharply around however, and saw that they were close to the rear part of an extensive cemetery. A fence of wooden pilings divided it from the rough lonely back road. The white stones and monuments, also several large tombs built into the side of a hill could be seen through the semi-darkness. Get his weapons and bind his arms securely. Deland commanded coldly. If he has any handcuffs, Fasten them on him also. He shall watch us to his heart's content. Until we leave him. Leave him where? Growled Margate. Oh, you wait and see. Patsy was still a bit puzzled, but he submitted in grim silence to the work of the three ruffians who disarmed and then securely bound him. Now Margate, a gag said Deland. Make sure that you fix it so securely that he cannot remove it. He shall occupy cold quarters tonight. And here after. Patsy saw plainly that he was in the hands of a man who had in him, all the makings of a devil. Margate took a gag from his pocket and fastened it in Patsy's mouth. Now gentlemen, we are ready. Said Deland. Bring him with us. Let him see what he may. It's a pleasure to gratify him. Murderers are well fed and wined, even if wanted before their execution. Bring him along. He turned with the last and tore out several palings already loosened from the high fence. Forced on by the other three ruffians, Patsy was conducted to the door of one of the tombs, some 20 yards from where the wagon had been left. Deland took a key from his pocket and unlocked the iron door, which Pittman and Ruff quickly removed and stood against near a bank. Look said Deland. Here is what we came after. He shot the beam of an electric lamp into the tomb. Patsy looked and saw the long wooden case and the florist boxes seen in the Undertaker's wagon that morning. He could not speak, but he glared at the smiling miscreant nearby and Deland laughed audibly. A safe concealment, Garvin. He remarked, even your famous Nick Carter will never think of this, nor will you ever inform him. For after removing the plunder for which we had labored, I shall leave you. Here. Patsy felt a chill run down his spine and a cold perspiration broke out all over him. You will not be found Deland added with merciless deliberation. There may be no occasion to reopen this tomb for years. Nor can you escape or make yourself heard, for we shall bind your feet and leave you in a box now containing part of our booty. Move lively mates. The sooner we are away now, the better. Gee, there's a fine outlook. Thought Patsy steadying his nerve. This miscreant means what he said, nor will either of these Rascals oppose him. Great guns. It looks tough for fair. The three ruffians with Deland watching already were transferring the pasteboard boxes to the wagon, a task that occupied them only a few minutes. The cover then was removed from the Undertaker's box, which stood on the floor of the tomb. Patsy could only stand and gaze. When he returned with his companions for the last time, Margate brought a screwdriver from the wagon. Off with the cover, Jim. Said Deland coldly. Save the screws so that we may fasten it on again with this meddlesome fellow underneath. I will teach him to interfere with my business, already sufficiently hazardous. Make haste! Put the stuff out here on the ground. We four then can take it to the wagon after locking the tomb door. The knaves were at work while he was speaking. Patsy saw small, but costly old paintings, boxes of gems and Jade, the priceless Stradivarius violin, then in its case. These and many other treasures. Patsy saw brought out and laid upon the ground. There was no delay over what followed no argument about it. No sign of mercy in the eyes of either of his captors. Patsy was rudely thrown to the ground, and his legs securely bound. Half a minute later, he was lying in the box from which the treasures had been taken. He heard the cover replaced. The massive key turned in the grating lock. Three minutes later, the wagon moved away with the four knaves and its load of treasures. Only Patsy Garvin remained. Entombed alive. Alone with the dead. Chapter nine in the Nick of time. It fell to the lot of Nick Carter as frequently occurred, to be a sort of connecting link between his two assistants. So uniting the result of their work as to form the complete and unbreakable chain that helplessly shackled the Outlaws they were seeking. It was after six o'clock when Nick returning to his Madison avenue residence learned that neither of them had arrived nor any definite message had been received concerning their movements. Both men have picked up a trail worth following and are so engaged, or they would have sent in a report of some kind. Nick reasoned taking the swivel chair of his desk. They must have accomplished more than I, in that case, since I was banking quite heavily on what I could learn from Archer, the real estate agent, concerning his relations with Deland. It was bad luck indeed that he was out of town on this particular day. I'll try his residence. He may have returned by this time. Nick had been trying in vain in fact, to get in communication with Mr. John Archer, who had had charge of the Barker residence during its owner's absence. He now found with much satisfaction that he had met with success. The servant who answered his telephone call, informed him that Mr. Archer had arrived home and would talk with him in a moment. Scarce more than that had elapsed when Nick heard the agent's voice over the wire. He at once informed him of what had occurred in the Barker residence, and he then began to question him. He soon found however that Archer could add, but little to what already had been learned. That he had permitted Deland to occupy the house because of a letter containing those instructions from its owner brought to him by Deland and that he had not communicated with Colonel Barker in regard to it believing the letter to be genuine and Deland entirely trustworthy. Did you recognize Colonel Barker's writing or was the letter typewritten? Nick inquired. It is typewritten on paper, bearing a cut of the Berlin hotel in which Colonel Barker is living. Was the reply. Did you recognize the signature? Perfectly Mr. Carter. It is a forgery, nonetheless. That seems almost incredible. Archer protested. I am very familiar with Colonel Barker's signature. I have had charge of both this places at times during many years. Has he two places. Yes. Where is the other? It's the old homestead out Fordham way said Archer. Colonel Barker grew up there and still spends part of each summer on the old place. It is outside of the town and somewhat isolated. Nearly all of his family are entombed in the old cemetery in that section. Has Deland or Vaughn ever been out there? Nick inquired. I think not though we have talked of the place. There's nothing more. I can tell you. I wish to see that forged letter, said Nick. I will call at your Broadway office tomorrow morning. Very well. I then will go with you to the Barker residents. Nick's face wore a frown when he hung up the receiver. He was thinking none of what he had just heard, but of the stolen Strickland treasures. The Rascals may have taken them to that old homestead. He muttered gazing intently at his desk. Still, there would have been that same danger that the Undertaker's wagon would be seen. The only really consistent place to which they could have driven it, is a graveyard. But that on the other hand in view its contents seems utterly absurd and. Nick stopped short, his eyes suddenly lighted. He was hit with an idea that had not occurred to him before. Entombed out there. He muttered. A tomb by Jove, that may call the turn! Nick seized the telephone again and got the Fordham telephone exchange. He learned after a few inquiries just where the old Barker place was located. And that the Sexton of the cemetery mentioned was one Jason Dexter. He has a telephone in his house said the operator. I will connect you with him. Do so please. Nick directed. And then waited until he heard the Sexton's voice. Hello. is that you, Mr. Dexter? Yes. This is Mr. Vaughn talking, Gerald Vaughn. said Nick proceeding in a round about way to get the information he wanted. Oh, yes. I remember you. Dexter returned. What can I do for you? Nothing, whatever. I merely want to thank you again for having opened the Barker tomb for me this morning. And for your kind attentions. Well, it is quite needless. Mr. Vaughn I assure you. My duties require no less of me. I wanted to thank you again, nevertheless, and I feel very grateful. Good night, sir! Nick did not wait for an answer. He hung up the receiver and shouted to Joseph, the Butler, and then hastened to don a woolen, cap and thick reefer into the pockets of which he thrust three revolvers. Have Danny here with the touring car as soon as possible, he commanded when Joseph appeared at the office door. The touring car with Danny Maloney at the wheel was at the curbing outside five minutes later. 30 minutes later, it stood in front of the small wooden dwelling in which Jason Dexter resided, a few hundred yards from the old rural cemetery of which he had charge. One of the front rooms was lighted. Denoting that the Sexton still was at home. Put out the headlights Danny. Nick directed while he sprang from the car. There is no danger of a collision in this lonely section. The Rascals might see our lights in front of this house however, if they were to arrive to transfer their hid booty. We'll take a back road, which I happen to know flanks the farther side of the cemetery. Out they go, chief returned Danny, the glare of the lamps on the lonely road suddenly vanishing. Nick entered the front yard of the house and rang the bell. It was answered by the Sexton himself, a somewhat bowed gray man, well into the sixties. It goes without saying of course, that he was more than surprised when Nick entered and introduced himself telling him what had occurred and what he suspected. It then appeared that Deland had called on the Sexton two days before stating that he was a relative of Colonel Barker. And then was occupying his fifth avenue residence. He further stated that his aunt had died suddenly that morning and that he wanted to place her remains in the Barker tomb for a few days, until arrangements could be made to take her body to Virginia, her native state, for burial. You suspected nothing wrong, I infer, said Nick. Certainly not, Mr Carter. Mr. Vaughn appeared to be a perfect gentlemen. Dexter assured him with rather rustic simplicity. I consented, of course, supposing he had a family right to the tomb. I told him Colonel Barker had a duplicate key, but he said he did not know where to find it. Colonel Barker is abroad, you know? Yes. I do know that. I then told Mr. Vaughn that I would open the tomb for him with my key when he came with the body. He said that was just what he wanted. And I did so quite early this morning. I do remember now that he would not permit me to aid the undertaker and his assistant in handling the casket and the boxes of flowers, all of which were put into the tomb. You now know why of course. Nick said a bit dryly. You would have detected that the boxes did not contain flowers. May I see the key to the tomb. The Sexton hastened to get it and Nick examined it with his lens. Ah, just as I suspected. He exclaimed almost immediately. An impression was taken of this key while you were at the tomb. It was taken in putty or some ingredient containing oil. There are traces of it on one side of the key. Well, well, this is most amazing. Get your hat, Mr. Dexter, and show me where this tomb is located. Nick said abruptly. I have an assistant outside. The crooks, undoubtedly will come tonight to remove their plunder. We could catch them in the act and well, That will be the finish. It did not take them long all three to arrive at the door of the Barker tomb nor long for the Sexton to unlock and remove the iron door. Nick shot the beam of his search lamp into its gruesome depths. Great Scott cried Danny impulsively. The treasures are gone, chief. Not all of them. Said Nick mystified for a moment. Here is a box, which must've contained some of them. unless empty it. Danny uttered a shriek and Nick recoiled involuntarily. A groan from within the box had fallen with startling effect on the ears of all. Then came a fierce kicking against the top of it. By gracious, cried Nick, quick to guess the truth. The Rascals have been and gone. But they have entombed either chick or Patsy. He sprang into the tomb shouting quickly and thumping on the long box. Keep cool. We will have you out in half a minute. It was done in less time in fact, for Nick found that he could thrust his fingers under one corner of the cover and with the strength of a giant, he tore it off in an instant. Patsy Garvin sat up in the box in the glare of Nick's searchlight with his face, wearing a look of relief that words could not possibly describe. By heaven, Nick muttered. Those curs shall pay dearly for this. Gee, that was some glad sound chief when I heard your voice. Said Patsy after he had been liberated and the tomb re locked. The Rascals got me, but now we'll get them. Tell me what occured said Nick. Patsy informed him with half a dozen breaths adding quickly. They've been gone for less than 10 minutes. They're returning to Margate's place. We can reach there by the other road and without being seen long before they arrive. Come on then said, Nick. That's the proper move. Their run to the Margate place was made in 12 minutes. The car with lights extinguished was concealed in a near vacant lot. Returning to the front of the old house to watch for the wagon the three detectives scarce had concealed themselves under a low wall when a taxi cab put in an appearance and stopped in front of the house. Some of the gang Patsy. Nick murmured. Follow me. We'll take them in at once. He Strode out just as the chauffeur sprang down from his seat to aid two women to alight. Stop a moment chauffeur. said Nick reaching for his revolver. Who are your passengers and where did you. The chauffer burst out laughing. Thundering guns! He cried removing his disguise. Is it you, Nick? The chauffeur was Chick Carter in the coat hat and goggles of Mr. Mullen with whom chick had easily planned the subterfuge before the coming down of the two much wanted women in suite 710. Five minutes later, nell Margate and Fanny Coyle were in irons and locked in a closet in the house pending the arrival of the male members of the gang. When that occurred some 20 minutes later and the four crooks alighted from the wagon containing the stolen treasures, four detectives stepped into the driveway and confronted each with a revolver ready, if needed. It was not needed however, for the arrest was quickly and easily made. 10 o'clock that evening saw every culprit locked in the tombs. The first step toward the punishment, awaiting them. It appeared later that Nell Margate had discovered the feasibility of the robbery, that she had communicated with Fanny Coyle then in London. And that the latter then had rung Deland into the job, the latter going to Berlin and cultivating the acquaintance of Colonel Barker, and successfully laying his plans as have appeared. They were as successfully perverted by Nick Carter and his assistants and the gratitude and joy of Mr. Rudolph Strickland when he saw his cherished treasures being returned to his house, as Nick had promised may be far more easily imagined than described. It was a fixed habit of Nick Carter however, that of keeping a promise. The end. Well, friends that concludes this Nick Carter mystery, but have faith dear listeners. This story is just part one of a three-part mystery story arc, which involves Nick Carter going up against the wily Mortimer Deland. So make sure you set your podcast player on alert for the next several episodes of forward into the past. It's sure to be a great story. I'd like to take this time to let you know that forward into the past has our own merchandise store on Etsy now. Unfortunately for our international listeners delivery is only currently available in the U S but hopefully we'll be shipping internationally soon. So please keep an eye out for that coming up. In the meanwhile, I have a special offer for you. If you sign up and become a monthly supporter of the show on my, buy me a coffee page. You will receive free shipping. Good until the end of the year on any items that you purchase in the merchandise shop, even for Christmas. So please keep this in mind. Now you do have until the end of July, 2023 to pledge support, though, this is a limited time offer. Oh, okay. My friends. It's time to go. As always. Thanks for listening. Keep sharing the stories and be a good human. Bye for now.