The Call of Death, or Nick Carter's Clever Assistant Pt 6 & 7

In this episode of 'Forward Into the Past,' hosted by JC Rede, we delve into the Nick Carter mystery series, specifically focusing on chapters six and seven of 'The Call of Death or Nick Carter's Clever Assistant.' We follow Nick Carter's assistant, Patsy, as he gets involved in a dangerous situation with Turk McGill, a notorious gangster. McGill enlists Patsy's help to kidnap Kate Crandall to uncover the location of some hidden stolen money. Patsy, while playing along with the gangster, plans to outsmart him and ensure Kate's safety. Meanwhile, Nick Carter investigates a connected mystery involving a dead man, Jim Nortek, and his daughter Nancy, which leads to a larger plot involving a clergyman named Maybrick, stolen bank funds, and a potential reformation of Nancy after her father's death. This intricate narrative sets the stage for suspense and action, promising to reveal more in the upcoming episode.

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Transcript

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Hi everyone. And welcome to another episode of forward into the past. I'm JC Rede, your host and narrator. And today we're going to dive right back into the final Nick Carter mystery for this year, the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. In this episode, I'm going to share both chapters six and seven. And conclude it in the next episode with chapters eight and nine. Now, this will allow me to record and post our Halloween episodes in time for everyone to enjoy them. Before Halloween night. So without further ado, let's find out what's up next for our Intrepid detective. In our last episode, Nick Carter's assistant Patsy followed our main suspect. Kate Crandell from her office back to the boarding house where she is staying. While wearing a disguise, patsy tails, Kate Crandall toward the edge of town and stops. When Ms. Crandall is approached by a sinister looking man, whom Patsy identifies as Turk McGill, notorious gangster and all around bad egg. After Kate Crandell, rebuffs McGill and heads home. Patsy manages to worm his way into McGill's orbit. McGill after sizing up Patsy. Offers him a job with a huge payday. Kidnapped Kate Crandell and force her to tell McGill where she's hiding some stolen money. Oh, how will Patsy get out of this predicament and how will he get word to Nick? Well, let's join in on the next exciting episode of the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. Chapter six. The man who died. It was early evening when Nick Carter arrived home after his interview with Kate Crandall, he found chick awaiting him. On the office table, lay a small plaster cast, not there when Nick departed with Harriet Farley that morning concerning whose mission and what since had occurred, chick was of course entirely ignorant. Well by Jove you've had a long outing. He remarked when Nick entered and removed his coat and hat. Have you been equally busy? You know, me replied Nick pointedly. None better. What's doing. A case for the young lady who prevented me from going with Mallory this morning. Who is she? Her name is Harriet Farley. She's the only child of the late Archibald Farley. She is worth four or five millions and then some. Whoa, that ought to keep the Wolf from the door at least said, chick smiling. What's the case. Nick briefly informed him, covering all of the essential points and immediately adding. Have you heard from Patsy? Hmm, not a word. There must be something doing then, or he would have found time to telephone a message of some kind. How long have you been here? What's this. Nick had caught sight of the plaster cast on the table. He took it up and examined it. One result of my trip with Mallory, said Chick. It's mighty strange, Nick, how circumstances sometimes dovetail together in this big and busy world. What you mean? You've not forgotten. Mallory's letter about a dead man up in Harlem? Oh, certainly not. Well, we went up there. Chick said, more earnestly. The address proved to be a miserable house in one of the outskirts. It appeared to be unoccupied. So we forced an entrance. Though very little force was necessary. As far as that goes. And you found. A miserably furnished place, Nick, with indications of poverty on all sides. There was evidence at a man and woman had been living there. And so some of the neighbors informed us, but the woman has removed all of her belongings and left only the body of the man. We found the body in a dismal back room on the second floor. He has been dead for about two days. Murdered? Mm, not exactly. What you mean by not exactly. Violence, but not murder. Said chick. The cause of his death was obvious. It resulted from a bullet wound in his left shoulder. It had not been properly treated. Blood poison had ensued and sent him over the dark river. Hm. That's strange. Nick remarked. There must be something back of it. Could you identify him? Easily. Who. The very man Nick of whom we were talking with Mallory when Vallon arrived with that letter. Jim Nortek the yegg cracksman. The crook suspected of having been one of the gang that robbed that Westchester savings bank. The devil you say. There was nothing to it Chick added. There was no mistaking him. You probably are right. Nick replied with a nod. One of the gang is known to have been wounded during their hurried getaway. The man was Nordek. Hm. Undoubtedly. That occurred a week ago, chick went on. He evidently had been lying ill and in a bad way, since then. There was convincing evidence of that. Furthermore, according to the neighbors we questioned, no physician was called and nothing definite is known about the couple. They've occupied the house nearly a month. They probably did not dare to call a physician lest the wound might lead to an exposure of Nordic's identity and his part in the Westchester burglary. Hmm. That undoubtedly explains it. Nick agreed. Nordic took a chance of recovery without the help of a surgeon. His negligence proved fatal. The writer of the letter must have been his daughter Nancy, Nordic, whom I saw in a Harlem train a month ago. Oh, that's right too, chick said. The woman seen by the neighbors answer's Nancy Nordics description. She took care of her father till he died. Then she bolted sending chief Mallory that letter. And... and a $50 bank note for funeral expenses. It shows plainly enough that I was right. In attributing the burglary to a gang, including Nordic. Exactly. That bank note was part of the plunder, said Nick. Nordeck evidently got his share of it. He must have been dead broke before the burglary, however, or he would not have been living in such quarters as you describe. You searched the house of course? Every nook and corner. What did you find? Only what I have stated. There was nothing to show where Nancy Nordic has gone or any trace of the stolen money. She bolted with that. All right. Or as much of it as Nordic derived from the job. Mallory took charge of the body and we'll have it decently buried. If we are to judge from the sentiment expressed in her letter to Mallory, the better part of the girl must have been deeply stirred by the death of her father. Nick observed. She wanted him to have a cloth covered casket With silver grips. You remember? Also a prayer said for him, She's not entirely bad then after all. His death may have hit her hard, Chick, and possibly will reform her. Well let's hope so for her own sake. Where did you get this cast? From one of the footprints in the backyard. Said chick. I thought it might be needed later, perhaps. And so I sent Danny after some plaster and made a cast of the footprint. It was Nancy Nordics. All right. For no other woman has recently been in the yard. She was. Stop a moment. Nick interrupted. By Jove chick, you are right circumstances do dovetail strangely sometimes. You mean? This is a facsimile of one of the imprints I found under Maybrick's library window. Are you sure? Positively here is the rundown heel. The mark of a patch on the soul. And the size is exactly the same. Great guns. That seems almost incredible. Said chick with a puzzled expression. It cannot be that Nancy Nordic was one of the women you suspected of having been watching Maybrick. On the contrary chick, she certainly was, Nick insisted. But what motive could she have had? A clergyman is about the last man on earth in whom Nancy Nordic would have any interest. Her whole career has been a vicious one. True. It must be that you are mistaken then and that the shoe of some other woman corresponds exactly with hers. Wait a bit said Nick. Let me consider all of the circumstances. I know I'm not mistaken. Be quiet while I stir up my gray matter and dig out the solution of this problem. Nick was not long in finding it or in framing up a theory that seemed consistent, at least With all of the known circumstances. His thoughtful face, suddenly lighted. He straightened up and exclaimed gazing again, at chick. Bye Jove. I think I have it. The answer. Yes. Good. If I am right, however, the outlook is bad. Deucedly bad at that. Bad for whom? For the rector Maybrick and for Nancy Nordic herself. Why bad for her questioned chick perplexedly. I don't get you. What do you make of it? Listen. Nick drew forward in his chair. As sure as you're a foot high, the veiled woman who visited Maybrick on Tuesday evening was Nancy. Nordeck. Her inferior attire. The likeness of this plaster cast, to the footprint under the window together with all of the other circumstances, convince me that she was the woman. But why if she went there to visit him, did she look through the library window? To learn whether he was at home and alone. That would have been a perfectly natural step for her to have taken. True Nick, as far as that goes, Chick allowed. But why on earth did she visit Maybrick? What business can a crook of her class have had with a clergyman? That is suggested, at least in the letter she sent to Mallory. You mean? The sentiment I detected between the lines. Said Nick. That girl chick, for she's little more than a girl was so deeply affected by the death of her father that she resolved to reform. There's nothing else to it. She went to Maybrick and told him about the burglary and she offered to turn over the plunder to him that he might restore it to the bank officials. Oh, hold on. Chick exclaimed. Incredulously. You are overlooking no end of contradictory points. How, to begin with, did Nancy Nordeck come in possession of the plunder. That is easily explained. Nick replied. We know that Jim Nordic has been repeatedly Buncoed and cheated by his pals. And he may, in this case, have insisted upon taking charge of the plunder until it could have been equally divided. The gang would have consented to that. Of course, for they could not have cracked the vault without his assistance. He was the big squeeze in that part of the work. That's very true. Chick allowed. If I'm right then Nordic took it to the house in which he died or hid it somewhere else, perhaps. Expecting to recover from his wound. And soon to whack up with his Confederates who evidently would not living with him and Nancy in the Harlem house. Well surely not Nick or they would have been seen by the neighbors. Instead, however Nordic died and the girl experienced a change of heart I now feel dead sure of that chick. And it's not the first time that death has brought about such a reformation. But why did she not in that case, take the plunder directly to the bank officials or turn it over to the police. For two reasons, perhaps Nick pointed out. She may have feared arrest or knew that she would be watched and would be prevented by other members of the gang. Hm, possibly. The fact that they did not go to the Harlem house and force her to give up the plunder. Moreover convinces me that Nordic had it hidden somewhere and that after his death, Nancy alone knew where it could be found. I see. She did not dare to go and remove it however lest she would be seen and waylaid by the gang. She went to Maybrick therefor and told him all of the circumstances. It would have been perfectly natural for her to select him for his charitable work among the criminal cases is widely known and she would have felt sure that she could rely upon him. Well, that goes without saying, said Chick. This theory is further confirmed by the fact that Maybrick left home the following night with two empty suitcases. Nick argued. In which to bring home the plunder. Exactly. But why did he draw $500 from the bank? Hmm. Well, let's see. Nick said thoughtfully. It's obvious that Nancy Nordic is nearly penniless aside from the bank funds. She may refuse to take any more of the stolen money yet may have insisted upon having funds with which to leave the country. She is wanted for several petty crimes, you know? True. Maybrick must have drawn his own money to give her. Knowing that he would afterward be reimbursed by the bank officials. There is a reward of $10,000 for the recovery of the funds. Well, the girl could have got that. Said chick. If she has had the turn of heart, that the circumstances lead me to suspect. She would not accept the reward. Nick replied. That is a woman's way of doing things. I begin to think you are right Nick, after all. I feel pretty sure of it. But how do you account for Maybrick's absence and his. That's the worst feature of the case. Nick put in. You mean? That he's in bad, most likely as well as Nancy Nordegg. I don't quite get you. Now suppose I am right, said Nick. Suppose this theory is correct. It's a copper riveted cinch, chick in that case that the gang that committed the burglary has been stealthily watching Nancy Nortek. And By thunder. I see the point, cried chick, more gravely. You think that they have got both her and Maybrick and also have landed the plunder. It certainly looks so furthermore, wait. There's my telephone bell. We may hear from Patsy. Nick turned quickly to his desk and took up the instrument. Hello. He said quietly. No answer. He called again, a bit louder: Hello? Hello. Still no answer. Nick's brow clouded. Then suddenly there fell upon his listening ears, a quick intermittent tapping. He listened even more intently. His countenance lighted, and then clouded again, darker than before. He seized a pad of paper and a pencil and began to write listening all the while. Three minutes passed and Nick then hung up the receiver and sprang to his feet. Bring Danny and the car as quickly as possible. He cried. We've got to make a record run. If we ever made one. Guns on your hips, chick. Patsy's in the hands of the gang. Chapter seven. Taking long chances. Patsy Garvin and Turk McGill after arriving at a very lucid understanding concerning Kate Crandall speedily decided how their felonious design could best be executed. Patsy entered into it, moreover, with a zest that further assured McGill of his sincerity of which he had scarce a shadow of doubt when they parted to begin operations. Leaving McGill to keep his appointment with Kate, patsy hastened to a public garage that he had seen while shadowing her from her office. Luckily, too, He immediately found the proprietor to whom he quickly introduced himself and confided the situation. Patsy found in him a willing assistant too, who provided him with a touring car, but flatly refused to accept any payment. I will not even think He protested when Patsy tried to force McGill's $20 bank note upon him. Pastor Maybrick is a friend of mine and he's one man in a million. Nick Carter is one in 10 millions, moreover, and it's a pleasure to serve both of them. You take the car, Mr. Garvin and return it when convenient, it's yours for the asking, I'd like to do more and I wish you good luck. Patsy thanked him heartily and guided the car from the garage within 20 minutes after parting from McGill. He knew that he was playing a hazardous game and taking long chances that he was going up against as dangerous and desperate a man has ever stood in leather as well as crooks of like character and that a slip of the tongue, or even the ghost of a mishap might at any moment, expose his subterfuge and put him in peril of his life. It was not in Patsy's nature to shrink from the undertaking on that account, however, and he hardly gave it a thought. He felt that the game was worth the candle and he was ready to burn the candle at both ends. Daylight was turning to the dusk of early evening when he left the garage. It was just about the time when Kate Crandell had promised to meet McGill and Patsy at once headed for the point agreed upon. He discovered them when he entered the long street leading out of the town, moreover, and he slowed down to approach them moderately. McGill saw him coming. Increasing confidence in him, mingled with his feeling of grim satisfaction. He was talking earnestly with the woman, Then in a locality where there were only a few scattered dwellings. But he had relieved her of any misgivings by turning back with her toward the town. Though in reality only to see and make ready for Patsy when he approached. He reached into his pocket and grasped a large silk handkerchief with which he was provided. Half a minute later, brought Patsy within 30 yards of the couple. He then swerved toward them bringing the car to a stop near the curbing. Beg. Pardon, sir. Said he leaning out and at the same time deftly unlocking the door of the tonneau. Will this road, take me to Bronxville. Kate Crandell paused. McGill shook his head and stepped back of her as if, to point the way for his questioner. No, not straight ahead, He replied with a significant wink. You must take the first crossroad. To the left or right. To the left and now Dolan get her! McGill had clasped the silk handkerchief over Kate's mouth. And as quick as a flash was tying it back of her head. Patsy equally quick leaped from the car and seized her arms, forcing them behind her and crying hurriedly. Tie her wrists, McGill, with another handkerchief. I've got her. She can't yip. Her struggles cut no ice. Into the car with her now. And the trick is turned. In spite of her frantic efforts to escape, it was a comparatively easy task for two strong and determined men to quickly overcome the frightened woman who was hurriedly forced into the, tonneau even while Patsy was speaking. She then sank half fainting in one corner. Unable to make any outcry and hardly able to move. McGill banged the door and sat down beside her crying sternly. You'll not be hurt woman. If you keep still and do what you're told. Now, Dolan away with you. Follow this road for half a mile, then take the left fork. I'll direct you later. You're all right from your toes up pal. And you'll get the coin I promised you. Let her go lively. The last was entirely unnecessary. The speedometer was already showing 40 miles an hour and the last of the scattered dwellings were quickly left behind. The dusty road swept like a gray ribbon under the swiftly moving car, the skillful driving of which McGill was quick to see and appreciate while Patsy was inwardly congratulating himself upon having informed the rascal that his vocation was that of a chauffeur. Under McGill's repeated assurances that she was in no personal danger. Kate Crandall's first flash of terror Had subsided and she appeared to yield more calmly to the situation, though a fiery gleam in her black eyes, plainly evinced her impotent fury and resentment. With one eye on the woman, the other on the road ahead, mcGill frequently shouted additional instructions to Patsy who quickly followed them with a mere nod and response. Patsy had of course, no idea as to their precise destination. He was thoroughly familiar with the country, through which they were speeding. However, knowing by name nearly every important road in Westchester county. And he soon foresaw in what part of it, they were likely to bring up. His anticipations soon were verified. McGill suddenly leaned forward and cried, pointing up the Woodland road, then only dimly discernible in the increasing darkness. Slow down when rounding the bend Dolan. Then take the lane on the left. It will bring you to an old stone house in a clearing. That's the grip. The going is bad in the lane, but you can make the side yard. All right. You'll see lights in the distance. Head for them. I get you Mike! Patsy cried back at him, then to himself. I'll get you for keeps too by thunder. Bearing a slip up. The touring car swept around a long curve in the Woodland road. Scattered lights in the distance came into view. Seen through the trees and from the moving car, they appeared and vanished again and again, like fluttering fireflies seen in the gloom of a summer night. Patsy knew the distant settlement. He noted the precise location of the grim old house That also came into view, looming up against the background of woods and the star studded purple of the sky. A feeble Ray of light here and there from the lower windows, told that it was occupied. But that the outer blinds were closed and the curtains drawn. Swing round to the right Dolan And you'll bring up at the side door, McGill directed. That's the stuff. Leave me to do the talking. I'll put you in right Dolan for what you've done. I'll do as much for you, McGill. Replied Patsy with dry significance. He had rounded a corner of the gloomy stone building and stopped some 10 feet from the side door. A whistle from McGill was answered with a cry from within quickly followed by the heavy tread of men on a bare floor. The door was hurriedly opened. And a stream of light from the side hall fell upon the touring car and its occupants. It also distinctly revealed the three men who had responded to McGill signal. One was a short swarthy fellow in the twenties. A stranger to Patsy, but whose vicious character was plainly reflected in his sinister face? Another was tall and gaunt with squinted eyes and cadaverous countenance while the third was a square shouldered, powerful man of 50. With a smoothly shaved hard featured face evincing imperious will and bulldog aggressiveness. Patsy instantly recognized the last two men, both crooks and cracks men of national reputation. And he also realized more keenly that he was carrying his life in his hand. Blink Morgan and ginger Gridley. He said to himself, I'm in right by thunder. If I can only stay right and keep things coming my way, if not, gee, I can see my finish. These thoughts flashed through Patsy's mind while Gridley staring from the house. Cried harshly. What's this Turk? What's the meaning of this? Why? Oh you back up, Ginger, until I have time to explain. McGill interrupted springing from the car. Lend a hand, Morgan, And take the skirt inside. She's the cat who queered our game last night. We've got to where we want are now. All right. Take her in! The cadaverous man with the squinted eyes from which he derived his nickname. Hasten to obey. McGill having rudely forced the woman to get out of the car while he was speaking. And she then was seized by Morgan and hurried into the house. Gridley in the meantime, whom Patsy knew must be the leader of the gang, Gazed with frowning eyes from one to the other. And then sternly repeated his question. What's the meaning of this, McGill. Why have you brought her here? Because she wouldn't yield to persuasion. Miguel curtly declared. We must force her to tell her what we want to know. That could not be done without bringing her here. You still think she knows. She must know, she heard all that infernal squealer said. But who's this fella. He helped me get her he's all right, too. McGill forcibly asserted. Get out Dolan and shake hands with Tom Gridley more often called ginger Gridley. You'll find them full of ginger too. If you cross him badly. He's all right, Tom. And I couldn't have got the skirt without his help. He hired the car with some money I gave him and come inside. Gridley interrupted, extending his hand to Patsy. It's all right. Dolan. If you're all that McGill says you are. I'm all that and something more. Patsy coolly assured him. You can bank on me as long as I'm used right. You'll have no kick coming Dolan. If you're handing a straight goods, replied Gridley. If not. Nothing doin on the if not line. Uh, this way then. Lock the door Phelan. The last was addressed to the fourth man of the gang, while Patsy followed them into the house. He heard the ominous click of the lock when Phelan turned the key. It told him that there was no retreat. No backing out of the hazardous undertaking in which he had fearlessly ventured. Patsy Garvin. However, had no such inclination. Even for a moment. How will Patsy get out of this mess? And what was the strange message received by Nick Carter by telephone? We'll find out in the very next episode of the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. Well gang, that's it for this episode. I hope you enjoyed yourself and I hope you stick around for the very next episode. it should be coming up quite soon. In the meantime, why don't you venture over to my Facebook page? JC re Dave voiceovers and narration. Do a search and you'll find it there. Or just visit my website. Forward into the past podcast.com there you'll find links to the Facebook page, the Instagram page, and of course, links to all the podcast platforms that the show appears on. Oh, there's also a link for the shows. Buy me a coffee page where you can. Buy me a coffee. Just for the cost of one cup of coffee, you can support the show and continue listening to these wonderful episodes. Or if you like, you can go ahead and sign up for the subscription model. It's entirely up to you. I leave the option open. Well, gang. I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Take care. As always. Thanks for listening. Keep sharing the stories and be a good human bye for now.