The Gordon Elopement; Or Nick Carter's Three of a Kind, Pt 2

 In this episode, Nick investigates the disappearance of Arthur Gordon and the suspected involvement of his stenographer, Pauline Perrot. Nick visits Mrs. Lord, Pauline's landlady, who reveals that Pauline is away on a visit and has sent her trunk in advance. Nick inspects Pauline's room and discovers a torn letter in French, suggesting a romantic relationship between Pauline and Arthur. Meanwhile, Chick Carter interviews Mr. Beckwith, the cashier at Arthur Gordon's Wall Street office, and Mr. Dayton, the only witness who saw Arthur leaving the office. Suspicion falls on Pauline as the possible thief, but did Arthur Gordon really murder her in a fit of vengeance? Let's find out! 

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Transcript

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Hello, once again, friends and welcome to another episode of forward into the past. I'm JC Rede, your host and narrator. And today we're diving back into the 1915 detective mystery from the files of Nick Carter. This one called the Gordon elopement or Nick Carter's three of a kind. Nick Carter is a fictional character who began as a dime novel private detective in 1886 and has appeared in a variety of formats over more than a century. The character was first conceived by Ormand G Smith and created by John R Coryell. Nick Carter was an instant success and his stories were wildly popular. He was credited with popularizing the detective fiction genre and his character traits and methods have been emulated by countless other detectives, including Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot and James Bond. One of the most important things that Nick Carter did for the detective fiction genre was to establish the conventions of the genre. These conventions include. A, the detective is a brilliant amateur who uses his or her superior intellect to solve crimes. B, the detective is often assisted by a sidekick or partner. C, The detective solves the crime by piecing together clues and other deductive reasoning. D the detective is always victorious and the criminal is always brought to justice. Nick Carter also helped to popularize the idea of the detective as a cultural hero. He was seen as a symbol of justice and order, and his stories often featured him battling against criminals and corrupt politicians. This helped to make detective fiction more appealing to a wider audience. And it helped to establish the genre as a legitimate form of literature. In addition to his influence on the detective fiction genre, Nick Carter also had a significant impact on popular culture. His stories were serialized in dime novels, which were widely read by people of all classes. This helped to make Nick Carter. A household name and his character became an icon of American culture. Nick Carter's influence on detective fiction can still be felt today. His character traits and methods have been emulated by countless other detectives and his stories continue to be read and enjoyed by people of all ages. He is a true pioneer of the detective fiction genre and his legacy will continue to inspire writers and readers for many years to come. And this is why I do feel so honored to reintroduce this long forgotten superstar to a new digital frontier. And now dear listeners, let's set our audio time machine back to 19 fifteens, classic tale of suspense and mystery, the Gordon elopement, or Nick. Carter's three of a kind. Chapter three confirmatory evidence. It was 11 o'clock when the touring car containing the detectives stopped in front of an attractive wooden residence in a quiet and very reputable section of Fordham. Uh, Nick directed Patsy to accompany him while Danny waited in the car. And his ring brought an elderly refined looking woman to the door whom Nick at first supposed was one of the boarders. I wish to see Mrs. Lord, the landlady, he informed her. I am Mrs. Lord, sir. There was a reply smiling. Will you walk in? Yes. Thank you. I wish to inquire about one of your boarders. One of them, the woman laughed lightly. I have only one sir and I consented to take her only to slightly increase my limited income. I do not keep what might be more properly termed a boarding house. What Ms. Perot pays me, enables me to keep an extra servant, which relieves me of most of the housework. Will you be seated, gentlemen? They had followed her into a neatly furnished parlor. And Nick now saw plainly that she was an unassuming and thoroughly honest woman, one upon whom a crafty person could very easily imposed. He reasoned too that that might be why Pauline Perrot was established there. Your boarder is miss Perrot. He said inquiringly. Yes, sir. Is she at home. Oh, no, she never is here at this hour, said the landlady. She's employed as a stenographer by a New York banker, a Mr. Arthur Gordon. But she is now away on a visit. She will be gone about a week. Gee, that's sure to be the longest week on record, thought. Patsy. When did she go? Mrs. Lord. Nick inquired. She left from her office yesterday sir, but she sent her trunk away two days ago. Hmm. Why did she send her a trunk in advance? I don't know, sir, I did not inquire. Did you know Ms. Perot, before she came to board here? I did not, sir. She was a stranger. Do you now know anything definite about her? Only what she has told me. Mm, I'm afraid. That is not very reliable. But dear me. What do you mean. Mrs. Lord exclaimed apprehensively. Who are you, sir? That you question me in this way about her. My name is Carter. I am a detective Nick now informed her. Mr. Gordon is mysteriously missing. Also a considerable fortune from his office safe. Ms. Perot is suspected of.. Not of having robbed mr. Gordon interrupted the landlady incredulously. Oh, I cannot believe that, sir. She has repeatedly told me that Mr. Gordon was quite likely to marry her. I would not take much stock in what she has told you. Nick dryly advised. Nor do I think it probable that she will ever return here. Well, well, you amaze me. Has she been receiving any visitors while here? No, sir. Never said Mrs. Lord emphatically. I often have wondered at that. She has no mail nor appears to have any friends except Mr. Gordon. He frequently has brought her home from his office, but he never came in. Did she go out evenings? Yes occasionally, but she always returned at a reasonable hour and always alone. I wish to inspect her room, Mrs Lord. said Nick. This is a very serious matter, or I would not make the request. If all you told me is true, sir, I cannot consistently refuse was the reply. I will show you the way. Both Nick and Patsy followed her upstairs into an attractively furnished front chamber. Everything is in order Mr. Carter, but I have deferred, sweeping and cleaning the room until the day before I expected. Ms. Perott to return. She said when they entered. We will disturb nothing. Nick replied. Has she sent away all of her garments. I cannot say, Mr. Carter, I have not looked. I will do so then with your permission. Nick remarked. He did not wait for a reply, but at once began a thorough inspection of the room. In the wardrobe closet were some partly worn garments, two shirt waists, a blue woolen skirt, an Eton jacket, and a single pair of button boots on the floor. Nick examined all of these very carefully, hoping to find some suggestive mark on one of them or evidence of some significance, but the examination proved entirely futile. They were no different from the garments of 1,001 other young women. The drawer of the dressing stand was empty while the China trays on top contained only a few hairpins, a plated stick pin of no great value and a few equally insignificant articles. In one of the bureau drawers. However, Nick found a quantity of underwear, including two pairs of stockings, all of which he at first made only a cursory examination. He soon noticed one curious fact, however, and remarked to Patsy. By Jove, this is strange. What's that chief question, Patsy. Joining him at the bureau. All of this underwear is new. Nick pointed out. Not a piece of it has been worn. Oh, you're right, chief. Patsy peered into the drawer. That's plain enough. But why was it left here, is not so plain. said Nick. A girl going away on a visit usually takes her best garments in preference to those she has worn. That's right too chief. Patsy agreed. But she may be well supplied. I'm not at all sure that explains it. Nick replied, dryly. What have you there? Fragments of a letter from the wastebasket, also the torn envelope in which it came said, Patsy. It's written in French. I thought you said, Mrs. Lord, that Ms. Perot has received no letters while here. said Nick turning to the waiting landlady? My assistant has found one in her wastebasket. Uh, I meant said that she was not in the habit of receiving letters. Mrs. Lord hastened to explain. A letter did come for her two days ago. It was taken in and brought up to her by my servant. I really had forgotten it. I understand smiled Nick. I must ask you to wait, however, while I unite these fragments, so I can read the letter. I am in no hurry, sir. Written in French, eh? Nick muttered while he and Patsy seated themselves at a table. Well, We soon can patch it together. It may provide a clue to the girl's identity. That was my idea, chief nodded Patsy. There's nothing doing in the desk. I've searched it thoroughly. Is there paste in the desk? Yes. Get it. Also a sheet of blank paper. Nick directed. This letter is written only on one side of the sheet. We can quickly unite the torn edges and paste it to the other. The task was completed in a few minutes. The following letter dated two days before and written in French with a pen and ink then was brought to light. My dear Pauline. You have made me heartless, thoroughly, heartless, and I ought to hate you for it. I am not sure that I do not. Though horribly averse to taking the hideous step upon which you insist, your threats leave me no sane alternative. None that would let me look my family and friends in the face. I submit to what you require, therefore, but I will not leave with you until Thursday. I must adjust many personal matters and also prepare for the future. One cannot live on love and kisses. Make it Thursday, therefore, and in accord with the plans you have suggested. Not a word about it in the office tomorrow. It staggers me when I think of it, the horrible situation in which you've involved me. Some men would wipe you out of existence as I perhaps shall but no, no. I could not live with human blood on my hands. Shame, sorrow and remorse are terrible enough. After Thursday. Well, we shall see. Arthur Gordon. Great guns. What do you make of that chief? Questioned Patsy after both had read the letter, both being familiar with the French language. We will discuss it later. Nick quietly replied. This woman has ears, you know, and a tongue. I've got you. Nick slipped the letter into his pocket also the torn envelope, then arose and turned to the landlady. Do you know where Ms. Perrot sent her trunk or who took it away? He inquired. I do not. Mr. Carter. A man with a wagon came after it. An expressman? I don't think so. There was no name on the wagon. You saw the man and the team. I did, sir. Can you describe them? Only in a general way. The man was short, thick set and quite dark. The horse was a gray one and the wagon of moderate size without a top. Very good said Nick approvingly. There is no doubt in my mind, Mrs. Lord, that Pauline Perrot will never return to this house. She is probably a very clever criminal. In that case, Mr. Carter, I hope she never will return. Mrs Lord said gravely. I am much surprised, I would not have thought it. Have you missed anything from the house? I have not, sir. I now see however that a brush and comb, which I loaned her are gone from the dressing stand. Hmm, is that so. She may have taken them by accident when packing her trunk. Nick did not reply. Instead, turning to Patsy, he said, raise both curtains Patsy as high as they will go. Then dropping on his hands and knees, Nick began a sharp scrutiny of the carpet and a rug near the dressing stand much to the amazement of the waiting woman. For more than 10 minutes, he continued this inspection and at times using a lens and picking something from the floor. When he arose, he had between his fingers, several black hairs, some quite long, which evidently had dropped from Pauline Perrot's brush or comb. He inclosed them in his notebook, which he then replaced in his pocket. Now Mrs. Lord, I am going to take away these few garments ms. Perrot left here. Nick informed her. Here is my card. If any inquiries are made, which is entirely improbable, you may refer the person to me. The woman glanced at the card, then gazed more intently at the famous detective. She evidently had heard of him, but had not suspected his identity until then for, she said quickly. Very well Mr. Carter, I am sure that anything you do will be right and proper. Nick bowed and glanced at Patsy. Roll up the garments and the pair of boots in the wardrobe closet. He directed. Take them out to the car. I will bring the underwear in the bureau. It was noon when they departed with the various articles, all that Pauline Perot had left as links in the chain, or to tell a fateful and tragic story. Back to the Gordon place. Danny said Nick, after he and Patsy were seated. More than half the distance had been covered. When rounding a curve in the Woodland road, two figures appeared some 50 yards in advance of the speeding car. One was a gaunt lop-eared hound. The other was a roughly clad man of middle age, with a shotgun under his left arm. And under his right, a large bundle. He turned quickly as he heard the approaching car, then stepped to the middle of the road and held up the gun. Slow down, Danny. Nick commanded. That fellow wants us to stop. Gee! Exclaimed, Patsy, a bit derisively. He's got a gun. Are we up against a holdup? Nothing of the kind, he has something to say to us. Nick was right for when the car stopped near him, the man approached and said a bit gruffly. Give me a lift gents. will ya? I want to go to Jim Bailey's house a mile further on. He's a county Constable, there has been a murder. A murder. Nick echoed. How do you know. What have you there? Some things ginger sniffed out of some underbrush near the old mill pond, back in the woods, a piece. Said the man with a glance at the hound. I saw a man and a girl plugging that way early yesterday evening. She had this hat on I'll swear to that, and she was lugging this jacket under her arm. Have a look at them. The man unrolled, a dark green jacket and a stylish velvet hat of the same hue. The latter was sadly battered and out of shape as if beaten with a bludgeon. A crumpled handkerchief fell to the ground. Here are two worked letters on the handkerchief. He added picking it up. P P as near as I can tell. Pauline Perot. Cried, Patsy momentarily excited. He had recalled the description of the dark green traveling suit worn by Pauline Perot as reported by the two women who had seen her with Arthur Gordon. They were indeed the garments of the suspected girl. All of them were soiled and red with blood. Chapter four. Chick Forms A Theory it was 11 o'clock when Chick Carter, following the telephone instructions from Nick, entered Arthur Gordon's business quarters in wall street to begin an investigation. He saw at once that the several clerks in the latticed enclosure were somewhat excited. Business appeared to have been suspended. Chick found Mr. Beckwith in Gordon's private office, adjoining the business enclosure, a man, well in the sixties and of a nervous temperament. Thank heaven you have arrived. Mr. Carter said he, when Chick entered and introduced himself. This is terrible, terrible! Gordon mysteriously missing. Miss Perot gone. The vault robbed of. Hold your horses, Mr. Beckwith. Chick coolly interrupted after closing the office door. There is nothing in going over the traces. Nick has told me most of the circumstances, as far as known. Calm yourself and answer my questions. Well, well, I will try, but there is nothing I can tell you. Don't be so sure of that. Sit down then. Come on with your questions. To begin with said Chick complying. Have you seen any indications that Gordon and Pauline Perot are in love or any sign of it to the part of either. No, no, never. Beckwith quickly asserted. Mr. Gordon is a gentleman and soon to be married. Ms. Perrot knows her place and has always kept it as far as I have observed. At what time did she and Gordon leave here yesterday afternoon? I don't know. They were the last to leave. Who was the last before them? I was. It then was about four o'clock. All the other clerks had gone. Where was Mr. Gordon when you left? Here in his private office, he was talking with Ms. Perrot. Was the door open. Yes. Was he dictating letters or.. No, no. He was talking with her. Beckwith interrupted. I could not tell what he was saying, however, for both were talking in French. Have they been in the habit of doing so. Sometimes. Uh, Mr. Gordon speaks the language fluently and Ms. Perrot is of French descent. I think that is one reason why he employed her when she applied for the situation. Has her work been satisfactory? Oh, yes, perfectly. You are the cashier. Yes. I have charge here, subject to Mr. Gordon's orders. Of course. Did you close and lock the vault before leaving? Um, I did not. Mr. Gordon had been using two books that always are put in the vault. Beckwith proceeded to explain. I asked him if I should do so and close it before leaving, but he replied that he would attend to it and that I might go. I did so, of course, not knowing how long he might remain here. That left Gordon and Ms. Perot alone here. Yes. Are you sure that the missing cash, bonds and securities, then were in the vault. Chick enquired. I am positive about the cash for I had put it in the vault within half an hour. Beckwith replied. The bonds and securities, however, were tied in several packages and were in an interior drawer or at least should have been. They have been there for nearly a month, as we have had no occasion to use them. Did Ms. Perot know that they were there. Yes she did. Has she had access to the vault when in performance of her customary duties. Yes, at times, Mr. Gordon frequently sent her to the vault for books, papers, or whatever he might want. Could she have opened the interior drawer containing the bonds and securities. Not without a key. Oh, who has a key to it? Only Mr. Gordon and myself. That drawer is always kept locked. I infer. Yes, certainly. Could Pauline Perot by any means have obtained an impression of your key to that particular drawer. Oh, no, it would have been impossible. Beckwith declared. My keys are never out of my possession. How about Gordon's. Well, it might've been possible. Mr. Carter. He sometimes leaves his ring of keys hanging in the lock of his roll top desk after having opened it. I have seen them there and cautioned him about it. But it is a habit of his. I see. Chick nodded. How recently speaking positively. Can you say that the bonds and securities were in the drawer? Three days. Beckwith said promptly. I then added a package to them. I don't think I have opened the drawer since then. Has Gordon done so? No, I don't think so. Is there any time during business hours, Mr. Beckwith, that Pauline Perot could have removed the bonds and securities without being seen. Possibly. At what time? Well, When I, and some of the other clerks were out to dinner. Mr. Gordon always was here at the time. No one in the outer office would have thought it strange. If miss Perot went into the vault. It would have been inferred that Mr. Gordon had sent her. I don't see nevertheless, how she could possibly have concealed the packages. Pockets in her underskirts Chick said tersely. That would have been Childsplay. I suspect Mr. Beckwith, that that is how the theft was committed. But the cash. That is another matter. Chick interrupted. She may have found a chance to slip into the vault and get it before she and Gordon left there yesterday afternoon. How much cash is missing.$2,000. It was in notes of large denomination and in packages confined with paper straps. Was any cash left in the vault? Yes, considerable and all the specie. That seems to confirm my belief. said Chick, if the theft had been deliberately committed with no occasion for a haste and fear of detection, The thief would have taken all of the bank notes, at least I see the point. Beckwith bowed. And I have not the slightest doubt that Pauline Perot was the thief, Chick added. Do you know whether she left here in company with Gordon? I know she did not. Beckwith replied. I have inquired in the other offices in this corridor, I could find only one person who saw Mr. Gordon leave. He was alone and carrying a leather suitcase. Mr Dayton saw him come out and head for the corridor and stairway leading to the side door of the building. Does Gordon usually go that way. I don't remember ever having seen him do so. Who is Mr. Dayton? He is the American agent for an English pottery concern. He has an office on the opposite side of the adjoining corridor. The elevator boy has told me that Ms. Perot left soon after four and that she was alone. Dayton is sure it was later than that when he saw Mr. Gordon. You could find no one else who saw him. No, sir. I have made exhaustive inquiries. Did Mr. Gordon bring in a suitcase yesterday or was there one here that you know of? Chick questioned. I don't think he has brought one in recently, said Beckwith shaking his head. There may have been one here, however, in that closet. He added pointing to a door in one corner of the private office. Chick arose and looked into the small wardrobe closet, but it contained nothing of special significance. He turned back, closing the door and remarking. You must do nothing about this matter nor give it further publicity until you hear from me again or from Nick. I do not wish to question you further, but I will have a look at the vault. Beckwith arose to conduct him to it. Chick made only a brief inspection of the vault however, finding nothing further on which to base an opinion. And he then repeated his instructions to Beckwith and the other clerks, and then departed. He did not immediately leave the building. He went instead to verify Beckwith statements by having a brief interview with the one man said to have seen Gordon departing the previous afternoon. Chick found his office door a little farther down the corridor. It bore a neatly printed sign. Edgar Hereford Dayton agent. Huh. That's a good bit English don't, you know, He said to himself while he scrutinized the name. I guess he come from Stratfordshire all right. I'll have a look at him. Trying the door Chick found that it yielded and he stepped into the small, but well-equipped office. There was a wardrobe closet, a roll top desk and on a table, lay a pile of illustrated business catalogs. A man seated at the desk, turned deliberately in his swivel chair and gazed at his visitor through a pair of gold bowed glasses. He was a man of medium build clad in a rather striking plaid suit. He appeared to be about 40 years old, a man with brown hair and a carefully trimmed beard. Eyebrows that curved upward at the outer ends. A quite florid complexion and eyes that had a keen and searching expression. Good morning. said Chick, after closing the door, You are Mr. Dayton. Yes. Surely was the reply with a rather affected drawl. What can I do for you? My name is Carter said Chick. I've been talking with Mr. Beckwith, the cashier over in Gordon's office. He.. Oh, yes. Dayton cut in with more manifest interest. He was telling me about a bad mess over there Deucedly bad. I judge. I say you're not an inspector are ya? Chick smiled and took the chair to which Dayton politely waved him. That is what they call men of my vocation in England. He replied. Here in America. We're called detectives. Yes. Yes. I see. nodded Dayton laughing and showing his teeth. I don't get quite away from the home lingo, you know? I inferred that you were English. Yes, that's right. Mr. Carter. I've been over here only a few months. Don't hang around New York for part of the time. Traveling here and there. Most of it. But I have to have an office here, you know? I say, what can I do for you? Not for a moment, had his keen intent eyes left the face of the detective. Well, Beckwith was telling me that you saw Gordon leaving his office yesterday afternoon, said Chick declining a cigarette, the Englishman now tendered, while he lit one for himself. Yeah, surely I told Beckwith, so. Can you tell me precisely what time it was when you saw Gordon? Well no I really don't think I can. Dayton drawled thoughtfully. I can hit it mighty near there. What time would you say Mr. Dayton? Well, I lunched late with Percy Bingham, a London friend, who is over here. It must've been about four o'clock when I left him. I'd say it was quarter past four when I saw Mr. Gordon then leaving his office. I was unlocking the door and he passed right by me. Are you acquainted with him? Uh, yes. In a small way. Did he speak when passing. No he did not. The which hit me kind of funny. He looked a bit bunged up by something. I thought, so I did not speak to him. He went round to the back corridor, don't you know. And that was the last I saw of him Said Dayton. You told Beckwith I think that he was carrying a suitcase. Yeah. So he was Dayton quickly nodded. A leather suitcase, and I thought he must be going away. Did you observe anything else about him? Chick enquired. Did he appear pale or as if mentally disturbed? Well, yes. I'd say looked a bit punk around the ears. Dayton drawled slowly. I wouldn't want you to bank too heavy on what I'm saying though, for, I saw him only a moment don't you know, I don't think as how I can add to it. Chick Carter was of the same opinion. There was something very insipid in this English man's voice and manner. Aside from his expressive eyes. And despite that he somehow impressed Chick as one whom he had seen before. The latter decided that he had nothing to gain by interrogating him further. Chick thanked him for his information therefore, then arose and departed. Seeking the street, he hailed the first taxi cab he could see, and at once started for the Gordon residence to report to Nick. Mr. Edgar Hereford Dayton sat for a long time gazing at his desk. The minutes crept away, far more rapidly than he imagined. All the while too, his eyes had a gleam and glitter doubly intense than before. He arose at length and shook his fist at the closed door. Then opening the wardrobe closet. He drew out a suitcase into which with what had already had contained, he crowded a blue dress, hat and veil, a woman's under skirt and smaller articles that scarce need mention. Has Pauline Perot actually been murdered by Arthur Gordon? Has Chick Carter lost the trail of the missing cash and funds. And what, if anything, is Mr. Dayton up to. We'll find out in the next thrilling episode of the Gordon elopement or Nick, Carter's three of a kind. Well, the mystery just keeps getting stranger. Doesn't it. I'm still scratching my head on this one, but I'm sure Nick will finally catch his man. Once again, I'd like to remind you that there are lots of other ways to support this show other than financially, which. Don't get me wrong is a wonderful way to show your appreciation for the show. But one of the best ways to do it. Is to leave a review of the show on your favorite podcast platform. By the simple act of giving it a quick rating or a thumbs up. It makes the podcast active within the algorithms of the podcast players and it bumps my visibility to possible. Other listeners. Even better, not only give a rating. But if you can take a few minutes and leave a review. Well, that opens doors to me and the show that make all this effort worthwhile. Unfortunately. There's only so much I can do on my own without the listeners. So if you enjoy the show, Please help boost the visibility of the show and take a moment to rate and review it. It really does help me. If you need to, you can visit the website and leave a review there as well. Okay. Rambling is done. Until next time friends. Thanks for listening. Keep sharing the stories and be a good human. Bye for now.