The Suicide, Or Nick Carter and the Lost Head, Pt 4

In this enthralling episode, Nick Carter and his assistant Patsy Garvan find themselves embroiled in a complex web of deception and treachery. As they uncover a sinister plot involving a supposed suicide, a cunning impostor, and a desperate attempt to secure a fortune, the stakes are raised to unprecedented levels. With thrilling twists and shocking revelations, the detectives must navigate a dangerous game of cat and mouse to unravel the truth and bring the culprits to justice.

Nick Carter's pursuit of the truth takes an unexpected turn when he discovers the true identity of an enigmatic figure, leading to a startling revelation that changes the course of the investigation. As the intricate scheme unravels, Nick and Patsy race against time to thwart the nefarious plans of the masterminds behind the elaborate ruse. Will they succeed in outsmarting their adversaries and unveiling the ultimate truth?

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

Transcript

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Hello again, friends and welcome to another exciting episode of Forward Into The Past. I am JC Rede, your host and narrator. And today we conclude the exciting tale from 1915, entitled The Suicide or Nick Carter and the Lost Head. Story papers often filled with serialized narratives have been a staple in shaping popular culture. These papers have not only provided entertainment, but also reflected and influenced societal norms and values. From the penny dreadfuls of Victorian England to the pulp magazines of early 20th century America, story papers have been instrumental in the dissemination of cultural trends and ideas. The serialized format of story papers allowed readers to engage with stories over extended periods, fostering a sense of anticipation and community among readers. This format also enabled writers to respond to readers feedback, creating a dynamic interaction that helped shape the narrative direction and consequently its cultural impact. Moreover story papers have been a platform for introducing iconic characters and stories that have stood the test of time, influencing various forms of media and entertainment. Characters like Nick Carter, who first appeared in the New York Weekly have become cultural icons, inspiring countless adaptations and interpretations across different media platforms. The accessibility of story papers made literature available to the masses, contributing to literacy and public discourse. They were a means for people to escape the mundanity of life, imagine new possibilities and engage with issues of their time in a narrative form. In essence story papers have played a significant role in shaping popular culture by acting as a mirror to society, reflecting its hopes, fears, and values, while also providing a canvas for new ideas to flourish. They remind us that stories are not just a form of entertainment. They are powerful tools that can influence thought and culture across generations. And speaking of influencing thought across generations, let's head back in time, back to 1915, to be exact and experience the thrilling conclusion of the Nick Carter mystery, The Suicide or Nick Carter and the Lost Head. Chapter seven. A startling discovery. Nick Carter had accomplished his object, but at some little cost. He had aimed to force the suspects into some impetuous move that would fully confirm his suspicions. He had expected it to follow his assertion, that Cyrus Darling was alive and that the supposed suicide was, but part of a knavish scheme, including Kate Crandall, Jim Dacey and Cyrus Darling himself. The speedy effect of his declarations, however, as well as the resources of the rascals had exceeded his anticipations. But there was still another reason for the sudden aggressive move made by Phillip Floyd. A reason that Nick could not possibly have anticipated, yet which alone necessitated the desperate step Floyd had taken. Patsy Garvin was responsible for it, though not because of any fault on his part. Following the instructions that Nick had given them, Patsy and Chick arrived at the Ashburton Chambers about 10 minutes after Nick, separating before entering. Patsy to look up Sheldon and Floyd, while Chick undertook to identify the suspect seen by Danny in company with Kate Crandall that afternoon. Nick had remarked before leaving home that with three strings to their bow, there certainly should be something doing and there was. Patsy entered the house about 10 minutes after Nick went up to Kate Crandall's suite, and as luck would have it, he shaped the same course that his chief had taken. He began his work with buying a cigar and interrogating the girl clerk with precisely the same question. Have you seen Ralph Sheldon here this evening? The girl laughed while giving Patsy his change. You're not alone, she remarked. Another man just asked me the same question. Is that so? Queried Patsy, knowing it must have been Nick. How long ago was that? Oh, not more than 10 minutes said the girl. Sheldon must be in demand this evening. He was talking with the clerk a short time ago. I guess you'll find him in his suite. Third floor rear corridor, number 94. Oh, thanks said Patsy with a smile. It's not material. That's just what the other man said. replied the girl laughing. Gee, I must be walking right in the chief's tracks. Thought Patsy moving away. That denotes that I've got a long head at least, but I must cut it out all the same or someone may get wise to what we're doing. It's odds that the chief took the elevator, so I'll vary the program by hoofing it. Patsy knew, of course, that Nick had gone to seek an interview with Kate Crandall as he had stated. I'll look up Sheldon's suite. He said to himself. If he still was with the Crandall woman. It's odd that he left when the chief showed up. He may be with a confederate in his apartments at this time. In which case their conversation might enable me to clinch the chief's suspicions if I can contrive to overhear it. I'll locate the suite at all events and find out what's doing. Patsy climbed the stairs to the second floor, then sought a corridor leading to the rear of the house. He found it with no great difficulty, but upon entering the corridor, adjoining the rear rooms, he turned in the wrong direction to find the main stairway. He brought up in a narrow dimly lighted hall instead and at the narrow stairway already mentioned. Gee, I'm in wrong. He muttered, glancing at several doors in the dim uncarpeted entry. I ought to have gone the other way. These stairs will take me to the next floor, however, and the rear corridor must run parallel with one of this floor. These doors must be rear exits from some of the side and back suites. I'll go up and have a look. Patsy started up the stairs with the last. The long corridor through which he had just come was deserted. The narrow entry and stairway appeared to be for the use of servants only and entirely out of use at that hour. Nevertheless while still only part way up the stairs. Patsy suddenly heard the rustle of skirts and hurried footsteps in the narrow entry on the third floor. He stopped short and listened. The sounds ceased in a moment and Patsy thought he heard the cautious closing of a door. Uncertain as to the last, however, he remained motionless on the stairs, holding his breath and listened intently for several moments. By Jove, that's mighty strange. He said to himself. I certainly heard a woman's steps and the rustle of skirts. She was in a hurry too, yet was moving stealthily. That ought to signify something. Have I stumbled upon a rear entrance to Kate Crandall's suite? Has she elluded the chief by stealing out of the back door? Gee, I'd better look into this. Patsy's suspicion was perfectly natural under the circumstances. It acted upon him like a spur, moreover. He crept quickly up to the third landing and glanced through the narrow hall. It was unoccupied. The several doors were closed. A short side entry around a corner and several feet from the stairs caught Patsy's eye. That also was deserted. It contained only a single door also closed and Patsy stole nearer to it and listened. He could hear no sound from within nor detect any sign of light on the threshold. He stole away, retracing his steps and listened at one of the other doors, then another and still another. Patsy paused longer at the last, then suddenly crouched and tried vainly to peer through the keyhole. He had heard a man's voice from within crying curtly. Come in. Gee he's not addressing me. thought Patsy. He couldn't have heard my cat like tread. Then other words reached his ears and a familiar voice. Holy smoke. It's the chief himself. He muttered. He just inquired for Sheldon or Floyd. He has just arrived in Sheldon's suite, as sure as I'm a foot high instead of interviewing Kate Crandall. Oh, He's already seen her maybe. And. Patsy's inference was correct, but his rapid train of thought ended abruptly. He heard a sound from the direction of the stairs. He thought someone was ascending them. Gee, I must not be caught playing spy here, flashed through his mind, nor must I lose the chance of doing so later. I'll hide in the side entry. He darted toward it on the instant, eager to round the corner before the approaching person could arrive at the head of the stairs on which Patsy still supposed him to be. He had however mistaken the precise direction of the sound. He moved like a flash, yet as noiselessly as a shadow. He turned the corner at nearly top speed and collided violently with another none other than Mr. Philip Floyd. Patsy needed no introduction to him. The description of him provided by Nancy Nordeck and Mrs. Darling was fresh in his mind. There could be no mistaking him under the circumstances, his dark face, his piercing black eyes and his drooping black mustache. Yes, Patsy recognized him instantly, but with an unexpected discovery and a thrill that went through him like an electric shock from head to foot. For the figure with which he had collided, that he had seized in his arms to prevent a fall, that at once began to struggle to free itself from his involuntary embrace was not the figure of a man. It was the supple yielding figure of. A woman. Patsy guessed the truth on the instant, there was no need for explanations. He knew now why Nancy Nordeck had distrusted her master's visitor, why she felt sure that she had seen him before and why he had involuntarily betrayed his recognition of her when she first admitted him to the Darling residence. It was a discovery that clenched all of Nick Carter's suspicions for Patsy now plainly recognized the cleverly disguised face. It told him on the instant that Phillip Floyd and Kate Crandall were one and the same. The recognition was mutual, moreover and a half smothered oath broke from the lips of the dismayed woman. Let me go. she hissed, struggling viciously. Let me go, I say. Not much, muttered Patsy exultedly. I know you now, and I've got you for keeps. His arms closed more tightly around her. He had seized her by chance so that her arms were confined to her sides and she could not free them, could not use them to scratch and tear him as she fain would have done. But she writhed from side to side, like an eel in his powerful grasp. Her eyes glowing like balls of fire, her breath coming in quick sharp gasps and falling hot on Patsy's cheeks. Let me go, let me go. She repeated in fierce frantic whispers. Curse you. Let me go. Not by a jug full, said Patsy, I know you now. You're Kate Crandall. Let me go. You'll go all right. But you'll go with me. You devil you. Oh, cut out your struggling. You can't get away. Patsy interrupted. Though content to let her exhaust herself with her furious efforts. I've got you and I'm going to hold you. I will kill. Here, none of that. You'll be roughly handled if you try to pull a gun. Patsy had felt her working one hand behind her to reach a hip pocket. He seized her wrist and held her closer, almost crushing her in his embrace for not for an instant had she ceased her fierce frantic struggles and she was possessed of more than ordinary womanly strength and was giving him quite a battle. She muttered a vicious oath again, when foiled in her attempt to draw a weapon. Then while they still swayed to and fro in the narrow entry, she took another course. She suddenly bowed her head and tried to set her teeth in Patsy's neck. Patsy had expected no less. He forced her quickly away then swung her around to crowd her against a wall, rendered a bit impatient by her fury and now determined to handcuff her and end her struggles. Instead of forcing her against the wall however, Patsy forced her against the only door in the narrow side entry, the rear door of her own suite. It was an unfortunate move on his part. The struggle was now heard from within. The door was suddenly opened by the man whom Danny had seen with Kate Crandall that afternoon. All of this proved disastrous for Patsy Garvin. He partly lost his balance when the door opened and he fell against the casing. A gasp of relief came from the woman and then a fierce cry. Down him down him, Jim, for God's sake. Dacey needed no bidding. He had guessed the truth upon hearing the noise of the struggle. He had drawn a weapon while approaching the door. The same weapon that felled Nick Carter a quarter hour later. It fell like a flash when Patsy reeled against the casing and while the frantic appeal was still on the woman's lips. The sandbag caught Patsy squarely on the head, dropping him as it dropped Nick a little later. Without a groan even, he sank in a crimped and senseless heap on the threshold of the door. It was a brutal blow, dealt by the hand of a brutal man. It was this man who had been smoking a cigarette in Kate Crandall's suite just before the arrival of Nick Carter, but who had stolen into the rear entry before the detective entered, returning after his departure. Safely enough indeed, the woman had given Nick permission to search her apartments. Quick. She now said curtly, drag him in here, Jim. Do you know him? questioned Dacey, hastening to obey. Know him? I should say so. snapped Kate. He's one of Carter's assistants. His name is Garvin. The devil. Dacey exclaimed. Things are looking bad. We can right them or get what's coming to us at least. Kate hurriedly replied. Come what may Jim, these dicks have nothing on us. We must stave off arrest and exposure however, if possible. Cut one of the window cords and bind this whelp. Dacey hastened to do so asking in the meantime, How did you run foul of him? We met in the entry. What was he doing there? Give it up. Said Kate tersely. There must be more doing than we have suspected. There is only one course for us, Jim, until we can land the coin. What's that? We must get Nick Carter also, if he has gone to Sheldon's suite, as I suspect. Kate hurriedly explained. We must get away with both of these dicks and hold them at your place until we can bring Sheldon to our terms. There's nothing else to it. Can it be done? questioned Dacey doubtfully. It must be done. Kate insisted. Is Moran on the side street with your limousine? Yes. Open the window, whistle him up here. He will aid us. Surest thing you know! cried Dacey darting to the window. Note me Jim, and follow my instructions, Kate quickly added. I'll go at once to Sheldon's suite as planned and find out whether Carter is there. I get ya. If he is and appears likely to give us further trouble, I'll hold him up with a gun in about 10 minutes. In the meantime with Martin Moran to aid, gag this whelp and tie his hands together, then steal into Sheldon's suite through the rear door. He left it unlocked for me. I'm on it. Dacey nodded. Come quietly, mind you and be ready to lend me a hand, Kate directed. If we can get away with Carter and this fellow and confine them in your crib, we'll jump this house and remain at your place until we can bring Sheldon to his milk. He'll be so rattled up by this turn of affairs that I think he will weaken. But how... I'll explain later. Kate interrupted. There's no time at present. I must hike to Sheldon's suite in case Carter is already there. Follow me with Moran as soon as possibly. The rear door, mind you. I must go around the front. I understand. Dacey replied. But how can we get them out of the house? There's a lift for trunks and merchandise just beyond the backstairs, Kate hurriedly explained. We can use it without being detected. We'll lower them both down and get away with them in your car. It can be done all right. Take my word for that. Your word goes with me, Kate. Dacey declared significantly. Be off then to Sheldon's suite. I'll be on hand with Moran in less than 10 minutes. As has already appeared. Jim Dacey proved to be as good as his word. Chapter eight. The third string. Chick Carter was not idle while Nick Carter and Patsy Garvin were engaged as described. Chick had of course, a very good description of the man whose identity he had undertaken to discover. And it soon proved sufficient for his need. For the man had been a frequent visitor to the apartments of Kate Crandall and he was quite well known by Tom Carson, the clerk with whom Chick had a confidential interview soon after entering the house. Know him? Sure. Carson declared after Chick had introduced himself and stated his mission. That description fits just one man to a nicety. His name is Jim Dacey. Capital! Said Chick earnestly. Jim Dacey, eh? What do you know about him Mr. Carson? Well, nothing very bad, Mr. Carter. Nor so good that he'll be sought out for a Sunday school superintendent. laughed the clerk. He's a man about town and a good deal of a rounder. Is he in business? I don't think so. What does he do for a living? Anything that comes his way, I guess, or anybody. He must have means enough to sport on, in a quiet way. And I think he gambles frequently when he finds an easy game. I can't put you wise to much more. Is he quite friendly with the Crandall woman? Chick enquired. Oh, he certainly is. Said Carson. How long has she been living here? Oh, about two months. And what's her reputation. None too good. She's pretty fly. I reckon. If the whole truth were told. We have been thinking of asking her to move out. That tells the story. Hmm, quite right. Chick replied. Do you know where Jim Dacey lives? Not exactly. Said Carson. But you can easily find out. How so. Go out and question Tony Hogan. He has a taxi cab stand around the corner. He has frequently taken Dacey home from here. He can tell you more about the man and just where he lives. Thanks! said Chick approvingly. Not a word about this to others. Mind you. Trust me, Carter. I'm dumb. You haven't seen Dacey this evening. No, not since yesterday. There was a very good reason for it. Leaving his limousine and the side street in the charge of his chauffeur Martin Moran, who was a bird of the same shady feather. Jim Dacey had entered the side door of the house when he went up to Kate Crandall's apartments. Chick, thanked Carson again, and repaired to the street. He soon found the man he was seeking: a shrewd keen-eyed Irishman who already knew Chick by sight and reputation. Hogan needed only a hint from the detective, moreover, to cut loose and tell all that he knew about Dacey. But Chick soon found that Hogan could add, but little definite information to that already obtained, which of itself was quite sufficient to convince Chick that he was on the right track. This was further confirmed by the fact that Dacey dwelt in a somewhat isolated place that was less than a mile from the Darling residence. Where he employed only a deaf housekeeper and the chauffer already mentioned. Chick paused only briefly to determine what course he would take. Nick and Patsy can look after things here. He said to himself. They will not need me. There is a bare possibility on the other hand, that Darling is in the clutches of this bunch of blacklegs as Nick suspects. And that he is confined to the Dacey place. I'll go out there and look it over at all events and communicate later with Nick. Then turning to the cabman he said, abruptly. Take me out there Hogan and drop me a couple of hundred yards from the place. I'll decide later whether I have further use for you. That's good enough for me, Mr. Carter, Hogan said readily. Tumble in, sir. Less than half an hour, brought them to their destination. A crossroad from which could be seen in the near distance, quite an old wooden dwelling, half hidden among the trees flanking one side of the narrower road. It could be discerned only dimly in the star light though some lighted lower windows could be plainly seen through the trees. It was the only dwelling in the immediate locality and Chick came to a quick conclusion. Drive on about a quarter mile, Hogan and wait till I come, he directed. I cannot say just how long you may have to wait. My time is yours Mr. Carter. Said Hogan. You'll find me there when you come. Good enough. said Chick. You'll get all that's coming to you. I know I can bank on that, sir. Chick waited until the taxi cab had disappeared around a curve in the main road. He then followed the other for a short distance, presently vaulting a low wall and crossing a strip of rough land from which he could steal into the grounds at one side of the Dacey dwelling. They were unattractive in appearance denoting that the owner was far from being a man of means. Chick sized them up correctly and was about to steal nearer the house to peer through one of the windows, when the side door was opened and a woman appeared in the lighted hall. She lingered briefly gazing out toward the road, and then closed the door and vanished. The deaf housekeeper. Thought Chick who had easily seen her tall gaunt figure. She is evidently expecting someone, probably Dacey himself. There would be lights in more than that one room if he were at home. By Jove, if she is as deaf as Hogan stated and also is alone there. I can easily enter unheard through one of the doors and search the house from cellar to roof. I could find Darling, all right, if he is confined in there. Not yet convinced that Dacey was absent however, Chick still proceeded cautiously, approaching one of the lighted windows on all fours, then stealthily rising to peer between the curtain and the casing. He could see part of a cheaply furnished sitting room. An oil lamp burned on the table. The housekeeper was seated nearby absorbed in reading a newspaper. It was half past nine by a small oak clock on the mantle. Chick watched the woman for a few moments, then gently tapped once on the window pane. The woman did not stir. Chick tapped louder, then knocked quite sharply, but the sounds brought no sign from the reading woman. As deaf as a hitching post. Thought Chick. I'll force a window in the opposite side of the house, she might detect the chill of the night air if I were to open a door. Stealing around the house, Chick selected the side window of a front room, then shrouded in darkness. Thrusting his knife blade between the sashes he easily forced the lock aside and it was about to lift the lower section when a flash of light deterred him. He saw it again in a moment. It flashed between the trees in the distance. It came from the lamps of an automobile running at high speed over the main road. Suddenly it diverged and a steady glare fell upon the road, approaching Dacey's place. By Jove, it may be coming here. Chick muttered, watching. Dacey's returning perhaps, just in time to prevent my search. Oh, Yes by thunder. I am right. It is coming here. The car was slowing down. The outlines of a limousine could now be seen. It's worked into a driveway, approaching the house and Chick dropped flat on the ground, close to the foundation wall, lest he might be seen in the glare of the headlights. He now saw that there were several men in the car, but he could not distinguish their faces. The number of surprised him. Great Scott. There are six at least, he said to himself, I'm up against more of a gang than I expected. Where the deuce are they going? The car had passed the side door and was rounding a rear corner of the house. Chick crept out from his concealment far enough to see that it had stopped directly back of the dwelling. Presently too, he saw four of the men alighting. For he naturally supposed that all of them were men. One of them hastened to open a bulkhead door, leading into the cellar. The chauffer extinguished the lights of the car. Then a cry came from Dacey as he returned from the cellar with a lighted lantern. All ready for them, Martin he said, curtly. Lend a hand Sheldon. You stand aside, Floyd and hold this lantern. We can lift them out and lug them into the cellar. We'll lock them in the laundry till we have settled this business. I'll send Sarah to bed. Though she's as deaf as an adder. Would she squeal, Jim, if she knew. Questioned Kate Crandall. Never a squeal. Dacey declared, but she's best out of the way for all that. By Jove, that was a woman's voice, as sure as I'm over seven. Thought Chick, when he heard Kate's question. A woman in male attire, eh? Great guns! I begin to scent the rat in the meal. This bunch of Rascals have in some way, got the best of Nick and Patsy. But there is still a third string to the chief's bow. It's always safe to bank on one of us. Chick had not long to wait for his suspicion to be confirmed. He saw Nick and Patsy lifted from the limousine and carried into the cellar, both conscious then, but gagged and securely bound and Chick stole quickly back to the window he had unlocked. I'll get into the house while the coast is clear, he said to himself, I'll find out what business is to be settled by these Rascals, then I'll settle them and their business, or at least know the reason why. Noiselessly lifting the window Chick crept over the sill and stood in a gloomy front parlor. Reclosing the window and locking it. There he paused for a moment listening. He could hear the men outside, the muffled sound of their voices and the bang of a closed door. The bulkhead door or that of the laundry, he muttered. Got Nick and Patsy eh? I must contrive to liberate them. I'll try to locate the cellar stairs. Chick did not find it difficult to do so. He tiptoed to the door, leading into the hall, which ran straight through the house to a rear door and the kitchen. It was lighted only by a feeble oil lamp and the glow that came through the open door of the sitting room. Pausing, Chick peered cautiously in that direction then quickly drew back. A door near the main stairway was suddenly opened. Jim Dacey had come up from the cellar and was striding through the dimly lighted hall. Chapter nine. The inner wheel. Chick Carter stepped back of the parlor door and peered between it and the casing, shifting a revolver to his side pocket. Jim Dacey turned abruptly, however, and entered the sitting room. Chick heard him shout to the deaf housekeeper and order her to go to bed. She came out with a lamp in a few moments and Chick saw her disappear up a back stairway. She scarce had vanished when Floyd, or Kate Crandall still in male attire, came through the cellar doorway and was joined in the hall by Dacey who asked abruptly with a look of grim misgivings. Where's Sheldon? What's turned him so sour and... Cut it. Kate sharply whispered audible to Chick. He must not hear us. I have something to say to you. I have ordered him to watch the laundry doors till Moran returns. Where's he gone? To house the car. He'll not show up for several minutes. That will give me time to explain. Explain what? Come into the sitting room. I'll soon tell you. You'll tell me also you Jade and I'll wager I'll make the most of it, thought Chick, watching the couple enter the room and noting that they only partly closed the door. Unless I am much mistaken by Jove. I shall now get the key to the whole mystery. Chick lingered only a moment then stole into the hall and found concealment under the rise of the main stairway. That brought him within 10 feet of the sitting room door and with an easy view of that opening upon the landing at the head of the cellar stairs. He scarce had concealed himself in the dark corner he had selected, when he made, another discovery. The cellar door was slowly swinging open. A stealthy hand was cautiously moving it. Presently, not only the hand, but the spy himself could be seen. He was crutching on the landing, his head thrust forward, his ears strained his eyes glowing, like those of a cornered Wolf. Sheldon. Thought Chick, startled by the terrible look on the man's face. By Jove, I'm not alone. He too, wants to learn what this vixen has up her sleeve. Sheldon having reached the vantage point desired, did not stir from his crouching posture on the landing. Chick waited and listened. Kate Crandall's voice, though somewhat subdued could be distinctly heard by both. I can tell you, in a nutshell, Jim, just where we stand and what must be done. She was saying earnestly. Our easy mark has ceased to be an easy mark. He has become suspicious. He begins to feel sure that I am in love with you instead of with him and that I intend to throw him down. That's why he has balked at making over half of his fortune to me and at putting it in my hands before I marry him. That's what has kept us hung up in the Ashburton chambers for a whole week, since the supposed suicide. By thunder! Chick mentally exclaimed. Supposed suicide. Easy mark, eh? This man, Sheldon must be Cyrus Darling then, as sure as there is juice in a lemon. Chick needed only one glance at the face of the crouching man to convince him that he was right. I know all that Kate. Dacey responded with a growl. But what's the answer? What's to be done? We must blind him still farther and contrive to get his coin. That done. We must get rid of him and bolt for Europe. Get rid of him. Exactly. What do you mean? Listen. Kate Crandall's voice took on more vicious accents. He has turned all of his fortune into cash and has it in a deposit drawer downtown. Well? Providing I will marry him and go with him to live in Europe, he will get the bundle of money from the safety deposit in order to take it with us. Well, Dacey repeated grimly. Here now is the point. Kate went on. The Carters have us hard pressed, but they do not yet suspect that Sheldon and Cyrus Darling are one and the same. Surely not. They are the only persons on earth who really believe that Darling is alive. No one else suspects it even. Surely not. Dacey again, repeated. But. If we were to kill him, then. And get rid of his body who the devil would ever suspect the crime. Only the Carters. But they could not prove anything. They could not even show that Darling did not kill himself. He's as good as dead already, as far as that goes, and they can never learn where Moran got the body that was substitute for Darling at the time of the supposed suicide. By heaven Kate, you have got all the makings of a devil in you. Said Dacey with a growl. I'm only showing you the way, Kate Crandall replied. It can be done easily enough. It's the only way by which we can make Darling produce the coin. So what's your plan. We will keep Carter and Garvin here until the trick is turned. We'll fake a marriage ceremony with Darling. That done and his money on his person we'll end him forever and bolt with the coin. I see. Dacey nodded. When Carter and Garvin are liberated, they'll have only a guess coming to them, Kate added. They cannot prove that Floyd and I were one. They cannot show that Sheldon and Darling were one. All they can do Jim, will be to look wise and guess at the whole business. It can be done like breaking sticks. What do you say? Kill Darling, eh?. queried Dacey. Why not. There is no risk. He's dead already in the eye of the law. Well, that's true. We surely can turn the trick and get away without serious suspicion. It does look so Kate I'll admit. Dacey thoughtfully agreed. How this enterprising colloquy would have ended and at what final conclusion, the plotters would have arrived will never be known in this world. Chick Carter, glancing at the crouching man, saw him withdraw from his position and cautiously descend the cellar stairs. Chick suspected a genuine suicide and he stole quickly from his concealment and noiselessly followed. When partway down the stairs, he again, discovered his man. Sheldon was tearing the disguise from his face in frantic haste and was casting it fiercely upon the floor. Chick waited and watched him. The disguise now removed, revealing a weak featured man of 40. Darling hastened to open the door of the laundry, into which he vanished. Chick crept down the stairs and to the open door. Darling was hurriedly cutting the bonds from Nick and Patsy, at the same time crying in nervous, frantic, agonized whispers. Enough of this, enough of it! I am going to confess, going to tell the whole truth. I've been a blinded cursed fool an infernal madman, crazy with love for an unscrupulous woman. I am Cyrus Darling, Cyrus Darling himself. I'll tell the whole truth and take my medicine. Come with me, Mr. Carter, come with me for God's sake and arrest that she devil and her knavish confederate! Come with me, and. Hush. Nick calmly interrupted him. He was then free and on his feet as was Patsy. He saw Chick entering the room also, and he knew that the case was precisely what he had asserted: that of a man with a lost head and that the finish was, but the work of moments. Nick waited only to hear Chick's statement. Half a minute later, still engaged in discussing their devilish plot. Dacey and Kate Crandall beheld, the three detectives and the undisguised man enter the sitting room. Both instantly guessed the truth. And while Dacey weakened perceptibly, only a loud laugh came from the woman. Oh, it's all off then! She cried with mingled, disgust and defiance. You have called the turn on us Carter, have you? You'll find that I have. Nick replied. Oh, well that don't rattle me any. Kate sharply asserted. You have got nothing on us, Carter. I told you I never would lay myself liable. Any man may pretend to commit suicide if he wants to and turn all of his fortune into cash. The more fool, he, in that case, and he's the one who must pay the price. You've got nothing on us, Carter and well you know it, otherwise you'd have had us in iron's at this time. Nick Carter knew that there was some truth in this, yet he said, sternly. Don't you be so sure of it, Kate Crandall. I can send you up for a term of years for conspiracy, abduction and opposing officers of the law. If I don't do so, there will be but one reason. He added pointedly. And what reason is that? Kate demanded with color fading. You have made an infernal fool of this man, and he knows it now. I think he will behave himself in the future and I'm going to give him a chance. I shall do so for the sake of his wife, who is as fine a woman as you are the reverse. I shall invent a story to account for all that has occurred and shall send Cyrus Darling home to his wife. Neither she nor the public must know the truth. Your only hope Kate Crandall and that of your confederates, lies in your permanent secrecy. I agree to that Carter! Cried Kate quickly. The truth shall never be told. Does that go with you Dacey? Nick sternly demanded. You bet! Dacey eagerly cried. And you will silence Moran? Silence him. You bet. I'll silence him. If I have to cut his tongue out. Nick turned to Cyrus Darling who had sunk upon the nearest chair with his head bowed in his hands. What Nick said to the erring man is of minor importance. It is enough to add that he adjusted the matter in the manner suggested, that Cyrus Darling returned home a few days later with a story that Nick had invented for him. And that the real truth was indeed never disclosed. The End. Well there, you have it folks, another thrilling tale from the pages of yesteryear. We hope you enjoyed: The Suicide or Nick Carter and the Lost Head from 1915. Those classic stories sure know how to keep you on the edge of your seat, don't they? If you're enjoying Forward Into The Past, there are a couple of ways you can help us keep these timeless tales alive. First, consider leaving a rating and review on your favorite podcast platform. It takes just a few minutes and lets others know what you think of the show. Secondly, if you'd like to support the show financially. 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