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Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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"FE-E-e-l-a-dEL-FI-A!!!"
"I have discovered a sure cure for the malady from which most brakemen and conductors suffer," muttered Nick Carter, detective, as the train upon which he was a passenger glided into the Philadelphia station. "Change the names of all the stations, so that they will contain at least five syllables, and the thing is done."
Seizing his grip, in common with the other passengers who had reached their destination, Nick got down from the train and strolled away in the direction of the Continental Hotel.
But he had not gone a dozen paces ere a large man, wearing a full, brown beard, stepped up to him, and said, in a low tone:
"I beg your pardon, sir; but are you not Mr. Nicholas Carter, of New York?"
Nick stared at the man in seeming blank amazement, for he was never taken off his guard.
"Who?" he asked.
"Mr. Nicholas Carter, of New York," repeated the stranger.
"No, sir, I am not," replied Nick, decidedly. "Neither is my name Brown from Squedunk, nor Jones, from Kalamazoo. I am on to your little game, my friend, if I am from the country, and you will have to inquire farther down the street for your victim. I'm not in it."
The stranger laughed good-naturedly.
"I see you take me for a confidence man," he said.
"Well, yes; that's about the size of it," drawled Nick; "but I also take the New York daily papers, and I'm posted. Who did you ask me if I was?"
"Nick Carter."
"Oh! I've heard of that fellow. He's a—"
"Detective. You see if I had been playing the confidence game I would not have asked for a detective to start with."
"That's so. Well, I apologize. I say, do I look like him?"
"Well, no, to tell the truth, you do not."
"Then why in thunder—"
"Precisely. You see he never looks twice alike. He's expected here to-night, and I had an important message from my chief to deliver before he went to a hotel, if I could find him."
"Maybe he'll come on the next train."
"He was expected on this one, but a fellow might as well try to find a needle in a hay-stack as Nick Carter."
"Maybe you ain't used to looking for folks."
"Oh, yes, I am! That's my business, in fact."
"'Tis, eh?"
"Yes; I'm a detective myself."
"Oh! Well, I hope you'll find him."
"No chance of that now. I made sure that you were the man, and while I've been talking with you, he has probably gone about his business."
"Which proves—"
"Well, what?"
"That detectives ain't so smart as they're said to be—always."
"Nobody is infallible."
"That's so. Here, sonny"—to a bootblack near by— "shine my boots, will you?"
"Yes, sir."
The boy set to work at once, and the stranger with the brown beard, after apologizing for his mistake, hurried away.
As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Nick spoke again, and had the brown-whiskered individual heard what he said, he would doubtless have experienced considerable surprise.
"Did you see that fellow, Chick?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," replied the bootblack.
"Anybody else?"
"Yes. A man over there under the awning behind you. He is there yet."
"Good. In some way they know who I am. How, is a mystery."
"Treachery somewhere."
"Doubtless. Hurry now. Follow the fellow under the awning. When you know enough to make it worth while to report, rig yourself up as a messenger boy, and come to me at the Continental.
"All right, sir."
"You know for whom to inquire?"
"Yes. Solon Rutherford."
"Are you nearly through, young man? I'm in a hurry," as a stranger moved near to them.
"All done, boss."
Nick tossed a dime to the bootblack, who was our old—or rather young, friend Chick, in disguise, and hurried away.
The great detective was puzzled by the trivial occurrence, and he thought deeply as he walked.
"Who was that fellow?" he muttered. "How did he know that Nick Carter was expected in Philadelphia? What made him think that I was Nick Carter? Chick was right when he said that there had been treachery somewhere.
"But where? Here in Philadelphia, without doubt. A clerk in the department might have known that I was expected, and, knowing it, might have betrayed the fact, but he could not have known on what train I would come, or what disguise I would wear.
"One thing is certain. I have got to carry out my disguise to the letter, and leave Philadelphia for a day, and try another entrance.
He went to the Continental Hotel, registered as Solon Rutherford, and was assigned to a room.
During the remaining hours of the afternoon he wrote a letter to the chief, in which he said:
"Please reply to the following questions as briefly as possible and without comment:
"Who knew that I had been engaged to come here? Name everybody.
"What idea had you as to when I would arrive?
"What idea had you regarding the disguise I would wear?
"Has anybody expressed any opinion about me since I was engaged?
"If so. What?
"Answer without delay. Address Solon Rutherford, Continental.
"Yours; N, C."
The following morning he received this reply to his questions:
"Nobody but myself knew or knows that you have been, or are, engaged on this work, or that you were expected here.
"I did not expect you before to-morrow.
"I have not heard your name mentioned by anybody in weeks, and therefore, no opinions have been expressed of which I am cognizant,"
"Humph!" exclaimed Nick.
Then he destroyed the letter and went out.
The time was ten o'clock in the forenoon, and he spent the next three hours in going from one wholesale store to another, examining goods "for his country store," but failing to leave any genuine orders.
Several times he noticed that he was followed and watched, and very expertly, too.
The shadow was changed four times during those three hours, so that he would not discover the fact that he was under espionage.
But it did not take Nick Carter the better part of an hour to find out if he was followed, and he not only knew that he was, but he knew of the four changes that were made.
"Fancy an inexperienced man trying to cope with these 'Night Hawks,'" he thought, when he was back again in the hotel. "No wonder that everybody who has tried to capture them has got left. Why, they have had four fellows after me to-day, any one of whom would make a better detective than the average real article."
He finished dinner, and, seating himself in the office, lighted a cigar and opened a paper.
Twenty minutes later a messenger boy came in, and walked past him within a few feet.
Nick immediately arose, and leisurely made his way to the elevator, and thence to his room.
Ten minutes later, the messenger boy was in the room with him.
"You have a message for me?" asked Nick, jerking his thumb toward the partition which divided his room from the next one on the left, as a sign to Chick not to talk.
"Ah! yes," he continued. "You will have to wait some time while I write an answer. Take a seat over there while I am busy."
Then he motioned with his finger for Chick to draw near, and, seizing a sheet of paper and a pencil, wrote:
"Did you follow the man under the awning?"
"Yes," wrote Chick.
"Where did he go?"
"He followed you."
"For how long?"
"To the hotel."
"Where, then?"
"Another man took his place and I stuck to No. 1."
"Right. Go ahead."
"No. I went back to the depot—met man with brown beard—they talked—I couldn't hear what was said— Brown Beard went away—No. 1 staid at depot."
"Good!" thought Nick. "They are not positive that I am the man, but they think so."
Then he wrote:
"Whom did you watch?"
"Brown Beard."
"Good! Go on."
"Brown Beard went to toilet-room—came out minus brown beard—came here to this hotel—registered and got a room."
"Do you know what one?"
"No."
Nick jerked his thumb at the partition again.
"There, now," he wrote.
"Fellow that I hadn't seen before followed Brown Beard into hotel—had satchel—set it down and went away—I followed Fellow."
"Good! what more?"
"Fellow went to depot—talked with No. 1—took his place—Fellow staid at depot—No. 1 went away. I went, too."
"Correct."
"No. 1 took me down Broad street, up Market, and through a dozen others, until he struck Peanut alley."
"Where is that?"
"Don't know—in the slums—no name on corner—asked a kid name of alley—he told me."
"How big is the street, or alley?"
"Very small. No. 1 went into house at end of alley—hour later two men came out—dark then—I followed—men went to depot—one relieved Fellow—other walked away with Fellow—parted corner Chestnut and Broad—Fellow went down Chestnut—I went, too—went through Sixteenth street to Walnut, down—"
"Never mind that. Where did he bring up?"
"Didn't bring up. Boy standing on corner Walnut and Fourteenth holding saddle horse. Fellow jumped on saddle horse and rode away. I couldn't follow."
"What then?"
"I scraped acquaintance with boy."
"Find out anything from boy?"
"No. I'm going to see him again this afternoon. He's going to get me a job—'soft snap,' he calls it. That's all I know worth telling."
"You have done well. Inquire at general post-office for letter for Jasper Jones day after to-morrow in the afternoon."
THAT same evening, Nick Carter, as Solon Rutherford, took the train for Pittsburgh.
He was followed to the train, and the man who followed him took a seat in the same car.
"They are determined to know where I go and what I do, whether they are sure that I am Nick Carter or not," mused the detective. "On the whole, I guess they are pretty well satisfied that I am the man, and they mean to keep me well in view until an opportunity offers for giving me a rap on the head, or a dig with a knife. Well, I think that Solon Rutherford knows a trick which will prove to be a little too much for them, and I see a young fellow over in the corner who will help me out, unless I have forgotten how to read character.
About an hour before the train was due at Pittsburgh, Nick walked over to the young man he had noticed.
"I am pining for a cigar, and I dislike smoking alone. Will you join me In a cigar in the smoking-room?" he said.
"I do not know you, sir," said the young man.
"Neither do I know you, but you very strongly resemble a friend of mine, and I am suffering for somebody to talk to. Won't you take pity on me?"
"Why, certainly."
They went together to the smoking-room of the car.
The shadow who was supposed to be watching Nick, knowing that he could not leave the train until they reached Pittsburgh, had gone quietly to sleep.
The man whom Nick had selected for a companion was about his own build, and was shaved clean.
He had just the sort of face that Nick liked to "make up," and he knew if he could secure his co-operation in the little scheme he contemplated, the shadow would be thoroughly fooled.
"Where are you from?" asked Nick, when they had lighted their cigars. They had the smoking-room entirely to themselves,an unusual but very fortunate circumstance.
"Pittsburgh," replied the stranger. "My name is George Starkweather. Will you tell me yours?"
"Nick Carter," replied the detective, very quietly. He knew that he could trust the face before him.
"What!" exclaimed Starkweather. "Can it be possible that you are—"
"Sh-h-h," said Nick, laying his hand upon his companion's arm. "Do not speak my name aloud, please. Yes, I am the Nick Carter you mean, I guess. I never heard of but one."
"You are the detective?"
"Yes."
"Out on business?"
"Yes, and I want you to help me out."
"How?"
"The simplest way in the world, if I can count on you."
"You may, certainly. I shall be most happy to be of service. What am I to do?"
"Trade names and faces with me for a while."
"Easier said than done, I imagine."
"Not at all."
"Do you mean to say—"
"That I can change you to Solon Rutherford, and myself into George Starkweather? Exactly."
"But—"
"I thought you had heard of Nick Carter."
"So I have, but then, one never believes half one reads, you know."
"This will be a good chance for me to prove part of it."
"An excellent one."
"You consent, then?"
"Certainly."
"Thanks. Sit here until I find the porter."
"Here he is now."
"Good. Porter, did you ever see a five-dollar bill?"
"A few, but not many, sah."
"Do you see that one?"
"I do, sah."
"Do you want it?"
The porter grinned.
"The state-room is not taken, is it?"
"No, sah."
"This gentleman and I wish to talk over some private business for half an hour. Let us have the state-room for that length of time and the V is yours."
"Yes, sah."
"Bring us two bottles of beer and a pack of cards."
"Yes, sah."
The porter grinned again, thinking that the gentlemen were going into the state-room to gamble.
Nick and Starkweather went to the state-room, and when the beer and cards were brought, Nick closed and locked the door.
"I'll make myself up first to look like you," he said.
Off came in a jiffy his traveling cap, and the wig and beard which he wore as Solon Rutherford.
Starkweather stared in surprise, but Nick did not lose any time.
He took off his coat and vest, collar and tie.
Then he washed his face, and shaved the day's growth of beard without soap.
He had to change the shape of his nose a little, which he did with bits of sticking-plaster made purposely, and by the use of delicate grease paints.
In fifteen minutes the trick was done for him, and the state-room contained two young men who looked enough alike to be twin-brothers.
"Now, off with your coat, vest, collar, and tie," said Nick to Starkweather, who was too greatly astonished to speak.
He complied, and Nick began on him.
He worked rapidly, fastening on the wig and beard which he had worn as Solon Rutherford.
"Now, we will have to change coats and vests. Our trousers are enough alike, so they won't be noticed by the fellow who is following me. Our suits are about the same in quality, but if you think there is any difference in your favor, I will cheerfully pay you the balance."
"Oh, no! If anything, yours is the best, and, by Jove! it fits me better than my own."
"Good. I am glad of that. Now, the collar, tie, and scarf-pin. Your collar is of the stand-up kind, and mine a turnover, so we will have to change."
"All right."
"Your tie is better than mine, but my scarf-pin is worth more than yours, so we will call it an even trade."
"But it isn't even at all. Your pin is worth a dozen of mine."
"Well, I am satisfied if you are."
"If you insist—"
"I do. Now, button your new coat over that watch-chain."
"No; we'll trade watch-chains also, if you like. I've got a little the best of you on the pin, and you can get even on the chain."
"All right, Mr. Starkweather, I won't forget you for this."
"Is all complete now?"
"No, there is one thing more."
"What?"
"Our hats. We both have our traveling caps in here, but I wore a silk hat when I entered the car."
"So did I."
"Good. Then we won't have to change, unless you have a black band, or something of that kind on yours."
"No; it is plain."
"All right. Our satchels are very different, and we'll just trade, if you like. I will ring the bell, and have the porter bring them both here. We can change the contents, and let the porter put them back where he found them."
Nick touched the bell and opened the door.
"Bring my bag here," he said to the porter, when he made his appearance.
"And mine also," chimed in Starkweather.
The satchels were soon brought and the change quickly made.
"Take a look at yourself in the glass before you go out," said Nick.
"This beats anything I ever saw!" exclaimed Starkweather. "I don't see how you do it, Mr.—"
"Starkweather is my name, Mr. Rutherford."
"That's so. I forgot that. I'm Solon Rutherford, and you're George Starkweather."
"Exactly. Now, let me post you. You will be followed, when you leave the train, and I advise you to go straight home, go to your room and do away with Solon Rutherford forever. Take off the wig and beard, put on another suit of clothes, and say nothing about what has happened to anybody, except to the members of your own family, to whom you will have to explain, of course.
"I am very much obliged to you for your willingness to do all this for me, and if you want a favor any time, come to Nick Carter."
He touched the bell, and told the porter to take the satchels back to where he had found them.
"Now, Mr. Rutherford," said Nick, "I vote that we have another cigar."
Then in an undertone, he added:
"My shadow has waked up, and is probably in the smoking-room. He never heard my voice, so you need not be afraid of talking. You are a merchant who has been buying goods, if conversation renders it necessary to say so."
They entered the smoking-room together, lighted their cigars, and began talking politics.
Opposite them, also smoking, and reading the morning paper, was Nick's shadow.
Ere long the train ran in at the station at Pittsburgh, and everybody got out.
Nick purposely moved very slowly, in order to see if the shadow would take the bait.
He swallowed it whole, starting off at once in pursuit of George Starkweather, who was masquerading so superbly as Solon Rutherford.
"Score one for Carter!" murmured Nick, and he turned up another street, walking briskly.
He was looking for something, and presently he found it.
It was a clothing store where they sold the ready-made article.
He entered the store, and was at once greeted by the proprietor.
"How do you do, Mr. Starkweather?"
"How are you!" replied Nick.
"What can I do for you to-day?"
"I'm going to play a joke on some friends, and I want you to-help me out."
"Certainly."
"Have you got a cheap suit of clothes, such as a laboring man would wear on a holiday?"
"Yes, or I can do better."
"What?"
"I can let you have a suit that I use sometimes to work around the store with; but maybe you don't want them spotted with grease and paint."
"Just the thing. Rig me out and I'll have some fun."
The storekeeper laughed heartily at the pending joke.
"Come right up stairs to my rooms," he said, "and I'll fix you up in no time."
The proprietor led Nick up the back stairs to the rooms where he lived, and having shown him an apartment where he could make the change, brought the old clothes to him.
"Now, let me alone until I get through, and you shall tell me whether I'll do or not," requested Nick.
A half-hour later he came from the room so utterly changed that Mr. Jackson, the storekeeper, was utterly astounded.
"Your own mother wouldn't know you, George," he said.
Nick's make-up was that of an Italian laborer, and it was as complete as possible.
There was not a point missing, from the color of his face to the enormous shoes and general appearance of dirt.
"Will I do?" he asked.
"Do! Well, I should say so."
"Thanks. I will leave the clothes I don't want until I call for them, and the satchel also. Good-day."
At the depot he wrote the following note to Starkweather:
"You will find your coat, and vest, and satchel at Jackson's clothing store. If you take the trouble to get them, express my things to my New York address. Jackson expects you to call, and will want to know how the joke worked when you made up as an Italian laborer in his store to-day."
When Nick stepped off from the train in Philadelphia he was still the Italian laborer who had been created in Jackson's store in Pittsburgh.
"I have lost some time," he muttered; "but I will make up for it now. I know two things, to start with. One is that the 'Night Hawks,' know that I am after them, and the other is, that they are a smart lot, and I have got to put in my best work to break up the gang."
He dropped a note to Chick, telling him to meet him the following evening, and then set out to find Peanut alley.
Darkness was just coming on, and Nick knew the haunts of the "Night Hawks," but he did not care to visit any of them before midnight.
In the meantime, he thought he would look up the locality mentioned by Chick as a rendezvous for at least some of the night flyers.
A word here regarding the "Night Hawks" will not be out of place.
Very little was known about them at the time Nick was engaged to break up the gang, but so far as the information went, it was as follows:
An organization of criminals had been formed, something on the plan of all secret societies, and, in the Quaker City, it had grown to be a very large and powerful confederation.
Rumor said that no man was eligible to membership who had not been convicted of a crime.
That the "Night Hawks" were captained by a man of remarkable ability the police well knew, but who and what he was, or where he made his headquarters, nobody had as yet been able to determine.
Decidedly, the " Night Hawks" were a dangerous crowd.
They feared nothing and dared everything, and they were ably directed by some head, or chief, whose identity remained a profound mystery.
In numbers they might be twenty, or they might be two thousand. Nobody pretended to know, although there were various estimates between one hundred and five hundred.
Such was the organization which Nick Carter was expected to destroy.
Peanut alley is a locality of which not one out of a thousand Philadelphians is cognizant.
Nick found the place without difficulty, for Chick had given him full and complete directions.
The house, also, where "No. 1" and the others had entered, was easily distinguished.
Nick, in his costume as an Italian laborer, did not fear espionage of any kind in that quarter of the city, and accordingly he went directly to the house in question, and seated himself upon the steps, as though tired out by a long day of hard work.
It was still early in the evening, although quite dark.
He had been seated upon the steps about a quarter of an hour when the door opened and a man came out.
"Hello, Italy, what are you doing here?" he exclaimed.
Nick looked at him blankly and made no reply, conveying the idea that he did not understand English.
"Don't understand, eh?" said the man. "Well, try this."
Then he began in Italian, speaking it fluently.
Nick brightened up at once, and replied briskly in the same language.
"Where do you work?" asked the man.
"On the railroad," replied Nick.
"What railroad?"
"I don't know," said Nick.
"Well, what are you doing here?"
Nick pulled a stiletto from his pocket and held it up, where it glittered in the light of an adjacent street-lamp:
"Waiting," he said, simply.
"The devil you are!" exclaimed the man, in English, and then he added, in Italian:
"Who for?"
"My rival."
"Ah! Going to cut him, eh?"
Nick nodded vehemently.
"What is your name?"
"Giovanni Cagliostro."
"That's good; where do you live?"
"Nowhere."
"That's better. I say, don't kill your rival to-night. Save him for some other time. Come back here at three o'clock in the morning, and I'll give you a job."
Nick got up and slouched away, saying as he went:
"I will be here."
The detective walked through several streets, turning here and there, and at length returning to the entrance to Peanut alley.
Any one following him would have lost him. Not by losing sight of him, in fact, but in believing that such had been the case, for when he again stood at the entrance to the alley he looked like a different man.
A heavy black mustache and goatee had been added to the smooth face, the hat had been punched and its shape altered; his coat-collar was turned up, and also the cuff of one sleeve; one leg of his pants was hitched up and caught with a pin.
He was the rival for whom the other Italian had been waiting.
As he stood there waiting, the same man who had spoken to him on the steps came out of the alley-way with a companion.
"Hello, Italy," he exclaimed, exactly as he had done before, "will you go on an errand for me for a dollar?"
Nick looked blankly at him.
"Good," muttered the man.
"I can work these fellows just to suit me."
"How?" asked his companion.
"You speak Italian," replied the first man, "listen, and you will see."
Then to Nick in Italian, he added:
"Do you know Giovanni Cagliostro?"
Nick smiled and drew the same weapon that he had exhibited before.
The man laughed.
"He's got one just like that," he said.
"This is the best," said Nick.
"He's your rival, isn't he?"
"Yes; I will kill him."
"That's right; I'll help you."
Nick made his eyes glitter savagely.
"When? How?" he asked, eagerly.
"The day after to-morrow, at this time, here."
"Prove it," said Nick.
"Your rival is looking for you. He was here only a few moments ago, and I sent him away. The day after to-morrow he will be here at this hour, and I will pay him some money. If you kill him, the money will be yours."
"I will be here," said Nick.
The man laughed again. Then, turning to his friend, he said, in English:
"Capital! The first fellow will knife Noxon for us, and this one will murder the murderer, so that he can't come back on me. Now, isn't that a pretty little scheme? Come on; let's be going."
They went away, leaving Nick standing there on the corner.
"I must keep my appointment at three," he thought, "for I must save Noxon, and make him tell all he knows. Now, for Flagherty's saloon, for there, I am told, the 'Night Hawks' congregate."
He threaded several dark and narrow streets, where it would have been unsafe for him to have walked at that hour, differently dressed.
Presently he turned into another alley, not unlike the one named Peanut, although still smaller and dirtier.
He paused before a flight of stone steps leading to a basement.
There was not a sign of a light visible anywhere, but he descended boldly and opened the door.
It admitted him to a hall-way, darker than the area, but he closed the door after him, and bent his steps toward a thin streak of light, which glimmered through a crack some distance ahead.
When he reached it, he found another door, which he opened, and passed through into a room that was brilliant by contrast, though really only half-lighted, and filled with smoke and the fumes of beer and liquor.
He was in Flagherty's saloon.
It was a large hall, extending through the block.
At one side was a bar, behind which three ruffianly looking bartenders presided.
Scattered through the place were many tables, and at each were seated from two to five persons, mostly men.
At the farther end of the room was a raised platform containing a piano, upon which an apology for a man was at that moment thrumming, while a youth of the genus "tough" was trying to sing "White Wings."
Several looked up as Nick entered, and one of the waiters, who was evidently the "bouncer" of the establishment, approached him.
"What d'ye want here?" he asked, roughly. "Git out."
Nick grinned, and exhibited a dime.
"Me want beer," he said.
"Well, ye can't git it here. Skip!" said the bouncer.
Nick grinned again, and placidly continued on his way toward one of the tables.
THE bouncer was evidently indignant at the manner in which the Italian treated his orders, and he seized Nick by one arm and whirled him around.
"Git out, I say!" he repeated.
For reply, Nick drew the stiletto from his pocket, and, tapping the point of it significantly with his finger, pointed to the bouncer's heart.
Then he walked calmly forward again.
The bouncer had no idea of getting in the way of that dagger, and he drew back.
At that, several who had been watching the performance laughed derisively.
"Why don't you put him out, Mike?" asked one.
"I will, afore the night's over," replied Mike. "You wait!"
"He'll lay for me now," thought Nick, "but I guess I'm enough for him."
He continued on his way to the table, sat down, and uttered the one word, "beer!"
One of the waiters was on the point of filling the order, when a stern command from the bouncer interfered.
"Beer!" repeated Nick, after waiting a reasonable time, and receiving no response.
Still his order was not filled.
Presently, as a waiter was passing with a tray loaded down with glasses filled with beer, Nick quietly got up, helped himself to two glasses, threw his dime upon the tray, and sat down again. The waiter looked astonished, then angry, and then amused. The bouncer fairly foamed at the mouth. The crowd laughed. They were beginning to be greatly amused by the performance of the strange Italian, who by this time had attracted general attention. The bouncer could not stand it. His reputation was at stake. Motioning to two of his waiters to stand ready to lend assistance, he walked boldly up to Nick and tapped him upon the shoulder.
"Look a-here!" he said, "ef ye don't light out o' this mighty quick, I'll throw ye out, see?"
Nick grinned, and quicker than a flash the fellow drew back his arm and let fly a slung-shot, full at the detective's face.
But quick as he was, he was not quick enough for the Little Giant.
Nick saw the motion, and knew what it meant.
He dodged, and the slung-shot missed him.
The next instant the bouncer felt himself seized in a powerful grasp.
He was raised bodily from his feet and thrown as though he had been a child, fully six feet away, where he landed upon his head and shoulders, stunned and dazed.
Nick grinned again, and reseating himself in the chair that he had momentarily vacated, placidly took a sip of beer.
There was a loud laugh through the hall, and a faint suggestion of applause.
At the same instant, from a far corner, a shrill whistle sounded thrice.
"No—no!" a dozen voices exclaimed, evidently in reply to the whistle, which was doubtless a signal of some kind.
Again the whistle sounded, but this time only twice, and it was not answered.
That both signals referred to him in some way, Nick did not doubt.
Had he but known, the first signal meant:
"He may be a fly-cop; look out," and the second one: "Watch him, any way!"
In the meantime the bruiser had gotten upon his feet, but he did not dare approach Nick again.
Like all men of his pattern, he was an innate coward wherever he was at all evenly matched.
He cast a scowling glance at the powerful Italian, and muttered something under his breath.
Nick knew that the man contemplated some act of violence, but even in that rough place hardly looked for what was coming.
The bouncer went behind the bar, and when he came — out again he held a heavy club in his hand, such as policeman call a "night-stick."
With murder in his eye, he approached the detective, who, thinking to frighten him off, rose and drew his stiletto.
But the bouncer knew his advantage and came on.
The crowd cheered, expecting to see a fine battle.
Suddenly the bouncer leaped forward with uplifted club, but Nick dexterously dodged the blow.
Again the bouncer dashed forward.
This time Nick leaped the other way, again successfully dodging.
He turned before the bouncer could recover himself, and wrenched the club from his grasp.
His fist shot out, and the bouncer went down beneath the stunning blow that he received on the side of his head.
But he was not stunned, and he had no sooner struck the floor than he uttered a loud cry, similar to the screech of an owl.
It was a signal that was always obeyed at Flagherty's, and it had not ceased to echo through the room when every light was extinguished, and the darkness of Styx reigned.
Nick knew what that meant, and he also knew how to avoid the consequences.
It meant that he was to be murdered in the dark.
It meant that two of the waiters or bartenders would guard the door until he tried to creep out in the darkness, when he would receive a blow or a stab that would silence him forever.
By a strange paradox, the surest way to avoid being killed, was not to make the effort to escape.
When the lights went out, Nick took several rapid steps across the floor in the direction of the bar.
He reached it without colliding with anybody.
Silently he climbed upon the bar, and stood upright there, far above the floor, smiling to himself in spite of the danger, as he thought of the men who were watching for him at the door, and of the bouncer, who was doubtless feeling for him around the floor.
Fully ten minutes passed without a sound being heard.
Then a peculiar whistle, different from any of the others, rang out shrilly through the room.
It produced an instantaneous effect, rendering the scene weird as well as terrible.
A score of men, ranged along the walls, opened the slides of dark lanterns, and flashed their lights toward the center of the room.
They focused the bouncer, still half-reclining upon the floor where he had fallen when Nick struck him, and-betrayed the fact that he was afraid to move.
Nick's position was such that the flashing lights did not reveal him.
He knew, however, that only a moment could elapse ere he would be discovered, and he felt that a desperate fight was inevitable.
Suddenly an unlooked-for interruption occurred.
The door leading to the hall-way and thence to the street opened suddenly, and two men entered.
"Hello!" exclaimed one of them; "what is going on here?"
"A fly-cop!" cried the bouncer.
"An Italian fire-eater!" shouted somebody, in the far end of the room.
"Lights!" ordered the new arrival, sternly.
Nick saw his opportunity, and took immediate advantage of it.
He recognized the voice of the new-comer as belonging to the man with whom he had already conversed twice that evening.
With a bound, he leaped to the floor, landing immediately in front of the man, whom somebody called Pollock.
Instantly he began in Italian a rapid description of all that had occurred, saying that he had entered peaceably and only to slake his thirst.
"I am willing to fight the big man with my fists or with my stiletto," he said, in conclusion; "but I do not want to fight them all."
In the meantime the lamps were again lighted, and the bouncer, with a pistol in his hand, moved toward the place where Nick was standing with Pollock.
"Put down that pistol," ordered Pollock, sternly.
"I'll kill the Italian!" exclaimed the bouncer, with a string of oaths.
"Do as I tell you, Mike," continued Pollock, coldly. "Put the pistol in your pocket, and go behind the bar."
"I won't! I'll kill—"
"Mike!"
Pollock uttered only the one word. He did not speak loudly or excitedly, but there was an intense meaning in the tone in which he spoke the name, that seemed to bring the bouncer to his senses at once.
The pistol dropped from his hand to the floor, and he himself sank upon one knee, muttering the word:
"Pardon! Pardon!"
"Go behind the bar!" again ordered Pollock.
The bouncer obeyed, slinking away like a whipped cur.
"I know this Italian," continued Pollock, "and while he is here to-night, he is under my protection."
His words produced the effect of sunshine breaking through thunder-clouds.
The men sank back into their chairs, resumed their drinking and their games, and instantly became as though nothing had happened.
Then Pollock again addressed Nick.
"Why did you come here?" he asked, in Italian.
"To keep my word with you. If I had met Cagliostro, I should have killed him."
"How did you know of this place?"
"From a man in New York."
"Who?"
"I do not know his name. He was stabbed. I took care of him. He told me to come here some time."
"What is your name?"
"Dominico Spada."
"Where do you live?"
"Near Rome, in Italy."
"Why are you in America?"
"To kill Cagliostro."
"And then—"
"I return to my men."
"Your men?"
"Yes; I frequent the Coliseum and the Appian Way at night, collecting for the poor."
"You are a bandit."
"I am, signor."
"Who is your captain?"
"I am."
"Ah! and Cagliostro?"
"Was my lieutenant. He betrayed me and ran away. I followed him."
"But you look like a laborer; not like a captain of banditti."
"I am disguised."
"Will you remain in America?"
"No, signor. When I have killed Cagliostro, I will return to my own country."
"You have had a narrow escape to-night. If I had not come in just when I did, you would have been killed."
"Bah!"
"You do not think so?"
"No. Except yourself, there are not men enough here to kill a Spada."
It was a delicate compliment, and it had its effect.
Nick, by his boldness mixed with apparent simplicity, had effectually pulled the wool over the eyes of Pollock.
"You had better go now," he said to Nick, "but instead of keeping the appointment you made with me, come here an hour earlier."
Just as Nick was turning to leave, a man came from the rear of the hall and attempted to pass out.
"Where are you going, Noxon?" Nick heard Pollock ask.
"Don't forget your appointment with me at 3.30?"
"I will be there."
Then Nick closed the door and heard no more.
"THAT was Noxon, the man whom I am expected to kill," said Nick to himself, as he left Flagherty's saloon, and he paused at the end of the alley and waited.
Presently a man drew near, walking rapidly.
It was Noxon, without doubt.
"Signor Noxon," said Nick, softly, as the man was passing him.
"Well, what?" demanded Noxon, shortly, stopping and placing his hand significantly in his pocket.
"You speak Italiana?" asked Nick, with a strong Italian accent.
"No."
"Me no speaka much Inglis, butta me tella you that you no speaka Inglis to-morrow."
"What d'ye mean by that?"
"They killa you."
"Who?"
"Il Signor Pollock."
"How d'ye know that?"
"Me hearda the order."
"When?"
"To-night."
"Who is going to kill me?"
"Cagliostro. He is my enemy; thata is why I warna you."
"You Italians are queer fishes."
"Me sava you."
"You can't. if Pollock said I was to die, I will, no matter where I go. I can't escape him."
"Bah!"
"You don't believe it?"
"No."
"I have got to meet him at half-past three. He will do it, then."
"Yes."
"I'll go back to Flagherty's, and accuse him of it. As well die one time as another, and better to die fighting."
"Stopa," said Nick, seizing him. "You are a foola, Signor Noxon."
"By—"
"Stopa. You cannota killa me; butta me can killa you. You say you cana escape. Me tella you how."
"How?"
"Make them thinka you dead. Listen, Cagliostro is to killa you. Me know where Cagliostro is now. Me go and killa him. Then me go back and tella Signor Pollock. He will aska me to killa you. I will consenta. You go at halfa pasta three. Me maka believe killa you. You liva. Go backa now to Signor Pollock. Waita there tilla me come. One hour, two hour, no more."
"How do I know that you are not lying to me?"
"Ifa you say thata once mora, I killa you now," said Nick, drawing his stiletto.
"By thunder, Spada, I believe you!" exclaimed Noxon. "I will go back and wait. If you are here by two o'clock, I will do as you say; if not—well, I'll do something else. That gives you two hours."
"It is enough."
They parted, Noxon to return to Flagherty's and Nick to use up the two hours at his disposal.
Twenty minutes later he was standing in a dark doorway out of sight, when he noticed a boy hurrying along the street, running at full speed.
Even in the darkness Nick recognized the motion.
It was Chick, and when he passed under a street-lamp, Nick saw that he was again in his bootblack dress.
The boy had to pass quite close to him, and Nick stepped out and caught him dexterously.
In an instant there was a quick blow, and something struck Nick in the breast.
"Look out, Chick," he said, laughing, "or you will kill your best friend."
"My master!" exclaimed Chick.
"Yes, and only for that little chest-protector that I put on when I came to Philadelphia, I'd be a dead one by this time. Where were you going?"
"To Flagherty's."
"What for?"
"To carry a message."
"Hh? for whom?"
"For the King Hawk."
"Oh!"
"In other words, the captain. I am a 'Night Hawk' now."
"Did you get my letter?"
"No."
"Never mind it, then, now that I have found you. Tell me what you have done."
"The boy I spoke of who held the horse got me in."
"Do you know where the 'Night Hawks' meet, who they are, how many there are, and who this King Hawk is?"
"No."
"What have you learned?"
"Very little."
"Tell me that."
"The house in Peanut alley is only used for a temporary stopping-place. It has three entrances from three different streets."
"You have access to that house?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Where are their other meeting-places?"
"I don't know yet, but I will find out before daylight."
"The thing that I most want to know, Chick, is the name and whereabouts of the fellow you call the King Hawk. He is the man I am after. There is one man called Pollock—"
"Yes. I know him."
"He is a lieutenant, isn't he?"
"Yes; but the third or fourth grade."
"What have you found out about the organization?"
"The King Hawk is the chief of the whole thing, and only the members of the inside ring know who he is, or anything about him."
"Then the society is divided into degrees?"
"Yes, and that which we know about might be called the-first degree; that to which Pollock belongs, the second, and that which is presided over by the chief in person, the third."
"Good, Chick. Now, go ahead and do your errand. Meet me here at this spot to-morrow night at this time. By the way, what is your errand?"
"A message to Pollock about a man named Noxon."
"They are going to kill him."
"How did you know that?"
"I have been engaged to do the killing."
"Then you are a Night Hawk."
"Oh, no I am not."
"Who engaged you?"
"Pollock."
"It is his work to kill Noxon."
"Well; he has got me to do his dirty work for him."
"An expensive operation, if the King Hawk finds it out."
"Why?"
"Because the fact would make Pollock the next victim."
"Humph! I may make use of that later. What is your message?"
"That Noxon must die to-night."
"Very well. Go ahead, Chick. You carry the order and I will do the work."
"That boy will make a great detective," mused Nick, when he was again alone. "In two years I would not be afraid to trust him with any case I ever had.
"Well, it is time to return to the saloon and tell my little fairy tale to Pollock."
Nick started and reached Flagherty's dive about fifteen minutes after Chick.
The boy was still there, but did not even look up when the detective entered the place.
Pollock, however, saw him at once, and frowned angrily.
He motioned to Nick to approach, and when near enough, he said in Italian:
"Why are you here again?"
"To see you," replied Nick.
"What for?"
"Because I cannot kill Cagliostro to-morrow night, as I agreed."
Pollock scowled.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Cagliostro has ceased to exist."
"What! Who did it?"
"I."
"When?"
"To-night."
"Since you left here?"
"Yes."
"Why did you not wait?"
"I could not."
"Why?"
"We met. Is that not enough?"
"But if you had waited—"
"Well?"
"You would have got the money that I was to pay him."
"Can I not get it now?"
"How?"
"By doing the work he was to do."
"Do you know what it was?"
"No."
"Can you not guess?"
"Is it that somebody must die?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
Pollock pointed surreptitiously to Noxon.
"Do you see that man?" he asked.
"Yes."
"He is to die."
"What is his name?"
"Noxon."
"And you wish me to do the work?"
"Yes."
"You will pay me? I want money."
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Fifty dollars."
"It is not enough."
"A hundred, then; no more."
"It is sufficient. When will you pay me?"
"When the work is done."
"Give me half now."
"Why?"
"Because you may die before I see you again."
"I? What do you mean?"
"That if the King Hawk knew that you had engaged some one else to do your work, your fate would be the same as Noxon's."
Pollock's face became the color of ashes.
"How do you know that?" he gasped.
"I know many things, signor."
"Who the devil are you?"
"Dominico Spada, signor."
Pollock made a rapid sign, but although Nick saw it, he paid no attention.
He realized that Pollock was mystified, and that he had made the lieutenant fear him.
"Will you pay me half now?" he asked.
"No. I will do the work myself."
"But that will not excuse you for attempting to engage me.
"You know too much, Signor Spada," said Pollock, angrily. "I have but to utter a signal, and every man in the room will spring at your throat."
"Utter it."
"You are not afraid?"
"I? afraid? a Spada? Bah! Utter the signal. Let them spring at my throat, and I will make a sound which will put them back into their chairs again, or turn them upon you instead of me."
"You are a devil!"
"No; I am a Spada."
"You are a 'Night Hawk.'"
"I am a Spada."
"You do not say no this time."
"We trifle! Will you pay me the fifty dollars?"
"For you to betray me?"
"I want the fifty dollars, signor; I have no wish to betray you."
"I will give it to you, and you shall do the work. I trust you because I am obliged to do so."
"It is well."
"Answer me one question."
"Ask it."
"Are you an Italian?"
"I am a Spada."
"You will not answer?"
"I have answered."
Nick saw that Pollock was greatly disturbed.
The lieutenant believed that Nick was a "Night Hawk," higher in the order than himself, who, for some reason, had come among them in Flagherty's to act as a spy.
It was exactly what Nick wished him to think.
"Call Noxon to me here," he said to Pollock. "Tell him to take me somewhere, no matter where. He will never return, but I will. Now, give me the money."
"Will you take the whole hundred now?"
"No. Only the fifty."
Pollock called Noxon, and spoke to him rapidly in English.
He told him to take Nick to the "palace, and to introduce him to the talons and beak."
"Go at once," he said.
Noxon straightened up, and said:
"Come."
Then he led the way and Nick followed, and a moment later, they were in the street together.
BEFORE they reached the end of the alley, Nick became conscious that they were followed.
He stopped and hesitated for a moment.
"We are followed," he said to Noxon, speaking without the Italian accent. "If I save you, it must not be known."
"No, for I could not escape."
"Come back with me. The man who follows has crouched behind a pile of casks. We will catch him."
"What will you do?"
"You shall see."
They walked back together to the pile of casks behind which was hidden the man who had been sent by Pollock to follow them.
"Step out where I can see you," Nick ordered, sternly, when he reached the casks.
There was no reply.
Nick put his foot against the casks, and pushed them over.
As they fell a man leaped out into view, but before he could do aught to escape or fight, Nick seized him.
Before the fellow knew what had happened, he was sprawling upon his back, and in a moment more his hands and feet were securely tied, and a bandage was placed over his eyes.
Then upon a slip of paper Nick wrote in Italian:
"A Spada dislikes being doubted and followed."
He pinned the slip of paper to the fellow's coat, and left him lying helpless in the middle of the walk where he would be found by the first person who entered or left Flagherty's saloon.
Nick knew that the message would be taken at once to Pollock, if found by one of the "Night Hawks."
As it happened, Pollock himself came out first.
He found the note, and read it.
Then he shivered a little, and tore the slip of paper into bits.
Next he released the man from his bonds, and ordered him sternly to say nothing of what had happened.
The order was given in a tone which brooked no disobedience, and the little event was not known except to the four actors who were concerned in it.
In the meantime, Nick and Noxon continued on their way to the room which Chick had engaged several days before, according to orders received from Nick before he left New York.
The room was on the ground floor of an old tenement-house, and was in every way admirably adapted for Nick's purposes.
As soon as they were seated, Nick said:
"Well, Noxon, you are no longer a 'Night Hawk.'"
"True. I am not."
"If they discover that you live, they will kill you."
"They will."
"Why?"
"Because I refused to act as executioner upon my friend and pal, John Bluff, who got drunk and talked too much."
"This seems to be an assassination society."
"It is."
"Still, you are a 'Night Hawk.' "
"No; I am out of it now."
"But you know their secrets?"
"Part of them."
"I want you to tell me all you know."
"I dare not."
"Nonsense! Dare not! Why? Because you fear that they will kill you, if you do? Is not your life already forfeited? Would they spare you now, if they found you?"
"No."
"Then initiate me."
"Who are you?"
"I am a detective."
"But I—how can I hope to escape?"
"By doing exactly as I tell you to do, and in no other way. From now until the time when I have broken up the gang of 'Night Hawks,' I will disguise you so effectually that you need not fear that anybody will recognize you. After that you need not fear."
"Then begin. There is no time to lose. In the meantime, here are fifty dollars, which I received for putting you out of the way. They belong to you; take them."
Three hours later Nick Carter knew all that there was to know about the secrets of the first degree of the society of "Night Hawks."
That was all that Noxon could teach him, and he knew that he would have to look elsewhere for further light.
But he relied upon the fear which he had engendered in the mind of Pollock to help him out in that respect.
"What did Pollock mean by the talons and beak?" asked Nick, during the process of instruction, referring to the place where Pollock had told Noxon to take him.
"He referred to our meeting-place down by the river."
"Ah! Tell me about that."
Noxon mentioned a warehouse which the "Night Hawks" used for a general rendezvous, describing the locality so accurately that the detective would have no difficulty in finding it.
When they had gone through with the lessons, and Nick felt that he knew as much as Noxon could teach him, he set about disguising the ex-"Night Hawk" thoroughly. Then he went out and bought him a fruit-stand on a corner two blocks from Peanut alley.
Noxon was soon installed as the proprietor of the fruit-stand.
Then Nick, after changing his disguise thoroughly, called upon Chief Woods of the detective bureau.
The chief was delighted to see him, and said that he had begun to fear since he sent the note of inquiry, that Nick had backed out of the job.
"Not much," said Nick. "I want you to tell me all you know about the 'Night Hawks.'"
"I know nothing, except that they exist."
"Upon what charge shall I arrest their chief when I find him?"
"Any you please. Bring him here, and I will find indictments enough to hold him, and convict him as well. Only be prepared to prove that he is the chief."
"Correct. You wish me simply to break up the gang."
"Yes; and to find the murderer of Allan Denny."
"The 'Night Hawks' killed him?"
"Yes; there is no doubt of that."
"I have the facts in my possession, just as you sent them to me, and I have started on the road to success. I suppose you know that the society numbers a great many men."
"Certainly—but how many?"
"Nobody can say. When I find where they meet and when they meet, I will send for assistance to make the raid."
"You shall have it instantly."
That evening, just after dark, Nick, in his Italian character, went boldly to the house in Peanut alley and rang the bell.
The door opened, and he was instantly admitted as far as the hall.
There he found himself confronted by three men with drawn revolvers, while the fourth man stood in the attitude of a sign which Nick at once recognized by reason of the lessons that he had received from Noxon.
He made the answering signal.
There were several signs and answers exchanged, and then the spokesman of the party said:
"Who are you?"
"A criminal," replied Nick, adhering to the ritual as taught him by Noxon.
"Why are you here?"
"To escape."
"Ah, you seek justice?"
"No, I fly from it."
"Whom do you seek?"
"A bird."
"The bird's name?"
"King Hawk."
"He does not dwell here."
"Then let me see his substitute."
"Name him."
"A 'Night Hawk.'"
"'Tis well; name him again."
"Pollock."
"Will you be blindfolded and conducted to the 'Night Hawk' you seek?"
"No."
"What then?"
"I will have him brought to me."
"Here?"
"No."
"Where, then?"
"In the feathered nest."
"Will you follow me?"
"No; I will face you."
"In what manner?"
"By walking—you backward and I forward."
"Come."
Nick passed through the ordeal of the first examination without a mistake. He evidently impressed the men who examined him with the belief that he was more than an ordinary personage, and that was exactly what he wished to do.
For a year past, Noxon had been chief guard at the door of the house in Peanut alley, and in that capacity he had learned many of the questions and answers that were used when members of the second and third degrees came there.
To the question, "Will you be blindfolded and conducted to the 'Night Hawk' you seek?" a member of the first degree only would not have dared to answer "No."
He would have replied: "If you insist upon it."
"To the demand: "'Tis well; name him again," any one but a high degree " Night Hawk" would have responded by saying: "Lieutenant Pollock," instead of the one word, Pollock."
Again, to the question: "Will you follow me?" a first-degree man would have replied: "I will," and the next question and answer would not have been used.
Nick knew that he was undergoing a great risk, for in reality he knew nothing of the work of the second and third degrees.
He was aware that there might be members of both of the advanced degrees in the house at that very moment, and that he might at any instant be subjected to a most rigid and fatal examination.
Pollock was a second-degree "Night Hawk."
Nick knew that perfectly well, but he relied upon the fact that Pollock believed him to be even higher in the villainous order to obviate the necessity of answering impossible questions.
He had no idea what the "feathered nest" was, but two minutes later he was conducted to a room where the walls were literally covered with feathers of all kinds, arranged in fantastic designs, which were doubtless symbolic of the work of the organization.
There he was left alone.
Two or three minutes passed, and then the door opened.
A man entered, completely enveloped in a domino, so that nothing about him was visible but his eyes.
He paused before Nick, and silently folded his arms.
Nick remained silent also.
It was well that he did.
He had unconsciously given Pollock an opportunity to test him.
Had he spoken first, Pollock would have known that he was not higher in the order than himself, while at the same time he had the right to remain silent as long at a time as he deemed necessary for the test.
Nick did not know of this peculiar rule.
He was simply in doubt as to whether the man before him was Pollock or not, and he resolved to remain silent until the man in the domino spoke.
Luck was always on Nick's side.
In this case, had he broken silence by a single word, it would have betrayed him to Pollock.
At length the latter spoke.
"You are a 'Night Hawk,'" he said. "You were forced to prove it by coming here to-night."
"Bah!"
"You are a third-degree 'Night Hawk,' which I have forced you to prove."
Nick wondered how, but he said:
"Well?"
"Neither are you an Italian."
"You err there, Pollock."
"You speak English as well as I."
"Or German, or French, if you prefer it."
"Who are you?"
"A Spada."
"Pouf! What do you want with me?"
"Fifty dollars."
"Ah! the balance of our account."
"Yes."
"Have you done for Noxon?"
"I have."
"And have proof?"
"No"—coldly—"time will furnish proof enough."
"But—"
"There are no buts. Pay me, or—"
"Or what?"
"Take the consequences."
"You are as deeply in the mud as I in the mire."
"Oh, no!"
"Why not?"
"I can betray you, but you cannot betray me. You do not know me, and besides, what did I prove to you when you entered the feathered nest?"
"True. You forced me to speak first."
"Exactly; and I will force your superiors to do the same."
POLLOCK took a roll of bills from his pocket, and, extracting fifty dollars from it, handed the sum to Nick.
"You are paradoxical," he said.
"Why?"
"Because you force money from me, when you are in a better position than I to get it."
"You mistake. I do not force it, you offered it."
"You accepted it."
"True. The fact placed you personally in my power. "I wanted you to fear me. You do."
"I fear no man!"
"Tut—tut! Shall I prove it?"
"Bah!"
"How much time have you at your disposal now?"
"Before I am due at the palace?"
"Yes."
"An hour."
"Barely time to get there."
"You are keeping me. That is sufficient excuse, if I am late."
"Who would you say kept you?"
"A third-degree man."
"That would not do."
"A full-fledged hawk, then."
"That is better. Can you describe his plumage?"
Again Nick stumbled upon a question which dumbfounded his companion.
It was the form of question which asked the name of a "full-fledged hawk," which was, in fact, the fourth and highest degree of the order.
Pollock stared at him in amazement for a second.
Then, as though suddenly convinced, even against his will, he threw the domino from him and sank upon one knee.
"I have heard that but two hawks can live together in the same nest, when fully fledged," he said, humbly.
"You have heard aright."
"Then you are—"
"Tut— Pollock; I am a Spada."
"Your pardon, sir."
"It is granted."
"And now command me."
"Do you fear me now, Pollock?"
"I fear you, sir, as a servant fears his master."
"Good. Obey me, and we will never quarrel. Nay, more, you shall profit by it in the future."
"I will obey you, sir."
"Rise. Put out both your hands. Clasp them together. So. You are a powerful man, are you not?"
"Yes."
"I will seize your two wrists with one hand thus. Now, tear them away from me."
Pollock tried with all his might to get free from Nick Carter's iron grip, but the effort was useless.
Finally he desisted, but he was a thoroughly conquered man.
The awe which he felt for the position that he believed Nick to occupy in the order was enough in itself, but that the mysterious Spada should also be the possessor of such marvelous strength was unprecedented.
From that moment he became Nick Carter's slave.
"We waste time," said Nick. "I am going to the Palace with you."
"Going with me!"
"Yes."
"The honor is too great, sir."
"Not if it is my pleasure to confer it. Besides, I am going incognito."
"I understand."
"You must vouch for me, as I do not wish to speak. I will go as Spada."
"But not in that dress."
"No. I have another with me. Leave me alone a moment."
Pollock went out, and Nick began one of his rapid changes.
When the lieutenant returned, he gazed at Nick in surprise.
The detective had not changed his face, but he had substituted the fantastic garb of an Italian bandit for the dress he had worn.
"Will you be ashamed of me now, Pollock?" he asked, smilingly. "I am still Dominico Spada."
"You are always my master."
"Always. Lead on. But wait. You have more need of this money than I, keep it," and he handed back the fifty dollars.
In forty minutes, by taking a hack, they were at the Palace.
It was an abandoned warehouse, which had, a year before, been partially destroyed by fire and never rebuilt.
But the windows and doors had been boarded up, rendering it an admirable place for the "Night Hawks" to infest.
They entered the building by passing out upon a pier, where Pollock stamped three times, first with one foot and then with the other.
Immediately two of the planks which formed the floor of the pier slid out at one side and Pollock motioned for Nick to drop through.
"No, precede me," said Nick.
Pollock obeyed, and Nick followed him.
The next moment they were in Stygian darkness, for the planks closed again over their heads as soon as they had passed through.
But Pollock drew a dark lantern from his pocket, and opened the slide.
Then leading the way, he walked along a narrow passage-way toward the shore.
Nick noticed the construction of the place particularly, and saw that it had been created with great labor and ingenuity.
The cribs which formed the pier had been cut through and again fastened with bolts.
Through the apertures thus created, a narrow walk had been built, with the sides, top, and bottom covered with black paper, in order to prevent any light from leaking out.
Every ten feet they came to a barrier in the form of a heavy wooden door, and those Pollock opened, with a little key.
That the key worked a lock which was by no means little Nick knew by the sound.
As they passed each door, it closed after them with a snap.
The place was surely well guarded.
Nick could hear, faintly, the action of the water against the pier as they proceeded, but suddenly it ceased, and he knew that they had passed beyond the river-bank, and were doubtless in or near the warehouse.
By and by they reached a door, larger than the others, upon which Pollock did not use his key.
Instead, he rapped five distinct times upon the wood with his knuckles, then paused and repeated the act.
A wicket in the door was opened, and a voice said:
"Who pecks at this tree?"
"A bird of prey," replied Pollock.
"Is he alone?"
"No."
"Who is with him?"
"His mate."
"Has he talons?"
"Yes, and a beak."
"What are they for?"
"To tear and to peck."
"Is his mate likewise equipped?"
"He is."
"For what purpose?"
"To protect his kind."
"You may enter."
The door was thrown open and they passed through.
But only for a few feet.
They were in a sort of antechamber, and hanging upon the walls were many half-masks with the nose made after the pattern of a hawk's bill.
Pollock selected two and handed one to Nick.
They were quickly adjusted, and then Pollock said:
"Will you go first?"
"No. Precede me as before."
"I will wait for you, just inside the door."
"Very well," replied Nick; and he thought:
"Only one can enter here at a time. If there are signs to give, I will be discovered," and he felt to see if his pistols were all right.
Then Pollock approached the second door and struck it twice, waited an instant and struck it twice again.
A wicket opened.
"Who attacks?" asked a voice.
"'Night Hawk' No. 113," replied Pollock.
"By what method?"
"Might."
The door opened and Pollock passed through.
Nick felt that he was called upon to face his first real difficulty.
Pollock had given his number, while Nick had none.
If he attempted to take one hap-hazard, it might belong to somebody who had already passed through, or who was yet to come.
If he refused to give a number, what would be the result?
There was no time for thought.
It was now, or never.
He struck the door as Pollock had done, and the voice demanded:
"Who attacks?"
"A 'Night Hawk,'" answered Nick, laconically.
"What is his number?"
"It is recorded in the book of a higher degree, and will not be given here," said the detective.
"Let the 'Night Hawk' wait until investigation is made," replied the voice, and the wicket closed abruptly.
Nick put his hands in his pockets, and seized the butts of his trusty revolvers.
There were several moments' delay, but at length the wicket opened again.
"No. 113 vouches.for you as properly numbered," said the voice, "and he who is upon the perch commands you to enter and stand before him."
The door opened, and Nick passed through.
He saw instantly that he was in the cellar of the warehouse, which the "Night Hawks" had fixed up to suit their own purposes.
The walls and ceiling were covered with black paper.
Lamps were hung in great numbers around the place, each one being shaded by a red globe, with the exception of three upon a raised dais at the farther end of the room.
Two of those had green globes, and the third was white.
The cellar was very large, but the air was frightful, owing to the number of men gathered there, and the multitude of lamps sending out their fumes of burning oil.
Nick looked rapidly around him.
He judged that there were at least sixty men present, seated upon rude benches made of boards and kegs, ranged along the cellar walls.
Upon the dais at the farther end of the room were two men. One in the center, with the white light over his head, and one at his right beneath one of the green lights.
The seat at the left was vacant.
Nick saw that every globe in the room bore a number, and, straining his eyes, he made out the number on the green globe above the empty seat to be 113.
"Pollock's place." he thought. "Where will I, who have no number, sit?"
"Come," said Pollock, seizing him by the arm.
He led Nick to the center of the room, until they stood before a huge representation of a hawk's nest, made of twigs, sticks, and leather.
Above it, suspended by means of a tripod, was a human skull, and that Pollock kissed with packs solemnity.
Nick followed his example.
"Take Noxon's seat," whispered Pollock. "He was to have taken the second degree to-night, and his lamp and number had been assigned—233."
Nick raised his eyes and swept them around the cellar.
Two hundred and thirty-three was in a distant corner, but that just suited him.
The next moment he was seated in the midst of the "Night Hawks" of the Quaker City.
LET the person who is reading this history pause for a moment, and endeavor to realize the situation in which Nick Carter found himself.
The peril which surrounded him, and the thousand and one things that were likely to happen at any instant to betray the fact that Nick was not a "Night Hawk," cannot be fully appreciated except by those who are members of secret organizations, and who therefore know how easy it is for those who are not thoroughly posted to make mistakes.
Nick was, however, fortunate in the seat to which he had been assigned, for it placed him in a far corner, and away from observation.
The regular business of the meeting was just beginning when Nick and Pollock entered.
The man who sat beneath the white light upon the dais was evidently the master of ceremonies, and as soon as the last arrivals were seated, he rose, and, waving his hand for silence, said:
"'Night Hawks' of the second flight."
Nick started, for he recognized the voice.
It was that of the man with the brown beard who had accosted him at the depot upon his arrival.
"We have many things which demand our attention to-night," continued Brown Beard, "but we will proceed with the regular order of business first. Are there any grievances to report?"
He waited and received no answer.
"Does any 'Night Hawk' know of a member who is treacherous, or careless with the secrets of our body?"
Pollock rose.
"Noxon," he said, briefly.
"Who was to have been initiated here to-night "
"Yes."
"His error?"
"Disobedience."
"His fate?"
"Death."
"His executioner?"
"One hundred and thirteen."
"Has the sentence been carried out?"
"It has."
"Properly?"
"Yes."
"It is well. Is there another?"
No answer.
"Have any arrests been made affecting us, since we last met?"
He of the opposite green light rose in his place.
"Two," he said.
"Their numbers?"
"Twenty-two and 100."
"The charge against them?"
"Burglary."
"What means have been adopted to liberate them?"
"The usual method."
"With what success?"
"None as yet."
"Let the committee See that they are here at our next meeting, one week from to-night. Now, has anybody a proposition to make for the society fund? We need money."
The man who sat next to Nick got up.
"I have one," he said.
"State it."
"Twenty-three thousand dollars in cash are to be carried by two men to-morrow from the Continental Hotel to the Pennsylvania depot. The money will be in a satchel and the men will leave the hotel with it about two o'clock in the afternoon."
"How do you know this?"
"The arrangement was made in my presence."
"Have you a suggestion as to the best means of securing the money?"
"I can procure another satchel exactly like the one which is to be used for carrying the money. I think they can be exchanged by an expert."
"Whom do you suggest?"
"Yourself, or your right bower."
"What say the 'Night Hawks'?"
"We agree," replied every man in the room as with one voice.
"It shall be done, and I will do it. That finishes our regular business, unless there is another suggestion to be made."
There was none, and presently the master of ceremonies resumed:
"Who among you," he asked, "have heard of Nick Carter, of New York?"
There was a chorus of "I's" on every side, and Nick started, wondering if he had walked into a trap, after all.
"Nick Carter," continued the speaker, "also known as the 'Little Giant,' is in Philadelphia, and his purpose is to destroy our organization."
A laugh of derision rose from every side. "He is the only man whom the King Hawk fears," continued the speaker, "and, acting under his orders, every precaution has been taken to intercept him.
"Our information upon the point was exact, as No. 157 can testify, for it was he who gave it.
"Our orders were to kill him without mercy or delay, immediately upon his arrival, but he is yet alive, and he is in this city.
"I met him and spoke with him at the depot when he came, but I could not satisfy myself properly that he was the man. On the other hand, I put him upon his guard, and he left Philadelphia and went to Pittsburgh.
"No. 77, as you all know, is our most expert shadower. He was sent to Pittsburgh with Carter, and had instructions to make away with him there, if possible. He, however, lost his man soon after Pittsburgh was reached, and we have not been able to get trace of him since."
"How d'ye know he's here?" asked one of the " Night Hawks."
"He was known to have called upon Chief Woods yesterday."
"Why wasn't he followed there?"
"It was impossible."
"Nick Carter is here, and he boasts that he has never failed upon a case he has undertaken. I speak of this for the purpose of warning you all. Beware of Nick Carter! Let this case be his first failure."
"We will!"
"That is right. He will lay traps into which some of you will fall, if you are not wide awake.
"Do not hope to escape if he once gets you in his grasp, for he is a devil for strength and quickness of action, and smarter than the smartest."
"By Jove!" thought Nick, "I really feel as though I ought to get up and make a speech. I wonder what they would say if they knew that Nick Carter was sitting here, listening to all of this?"
What would they have said?
Imagine their consternation to think that the man they most dreaded was at that very moment sitting in their midst, listening to their plans, and that he had been introduced there and vouched for by one of their most trusted officers!
Nick was there just the same.
In the short time that he had been in Philadelphia, he had reached the second flight (or degree) of the "Night Hawks;" a thing which many a hardened criminal had not been able to accomplish in a whole year, notwithstanding the fact that it was a society of criminals.
But little more of interest to Nick was said, and presently the meeting adjourned.
After the adjournment, the men gathered in groups and discussed the affairs of the meeting informally.
The name of Nick Carter seemed to be upon every tongue, and it was plain that they one and all feared him greatly.
Pollock came down from the dais, and went straight to Nick.
"Come up to the perch," he said in Italian.
"Why?"
"Seventeen has requested it."
"What does he want?"
"I do not know."
"I will go, Pollock, but remember that I do not want it to be known by any one but yourself that I am a full-fledged hawk."
"Very well, sir; come."
"How is it that you come to us as a stranger?" asked Brown Beard, when Nick stood before him.
"Because I chose it so," replied Nick, with a touch of hauteur.
"Have you forgotten your old number?"
"Yes, for to-night."
"Did you know that I might not have admitted you?"
"I knew a way to gain admittance, even though you objected."
"Ah, you did!"
"I did and do."
"Your dress bespeaks you a foreigner."
"I am a Spada."
"Will you report favorably of us when you join your friends again?"
"How do you know that I will report at all?"
"Pardon me, I—"
"You are pardoned."
The haughty way in which Nick spoke, and his apparent indifference as to what was said or thought of him, impressed Brown Beard much as it had Pollock.
Presently Nick looked at his watch, and he found that in two hours he must be where he had agreed to meet Chick.
He made a sign to Pollock, and they presently withdrew.
"When I come again," thought the detective, "it will be to complete my work here, and to destroy the palace of the 'Night Hawks,' root and branch."
They took a hack as soon as they got where one could be procured, and were driven rapidly to the house in Peanut alley.
There Nick resumed his former dress, and bade Pollock adieu.
"I may see you later at Flagherty's," he said, "for I shall probably drop in there during the night. I am going now to find out something about that detective."
"Who? Nick Carter?"
"Yes."
"Is he as dangerous as they say he is?"
"No. I do not fear him any more than I fear you, nor half so much, perhaps. I think if you got a good chance, Pollock, you would stick your knife between my shoulders."
"You know that I would not."
"Tut, tut! You fear me, and therefore you hate me. All men hate where they fear. You would kill me, because all men kill the things they hate, if they have the courage.
"I do not blame you for it, Pollock. I think it makes me like you better. But beware! Do not trifle. Be loyal, and you will see the days when you will be glad you were so. If you are treacherous, you will see the day when you will wish that you never had been born."
As soon as Nick left Pollock, he hurried to the place where he had agreed to meet his protege.
The time for the meeting came and passed, but Chick did not appear.
An hour passed; two hours; and still no Chick.
The detective became exceedingly anxious.
He knew that Chick would not fail him, if there was any possibility of getting there, and that one of three reasons only could account for his failure to come.
Either Chick's true character had been discovered, and he was consequently dead, or doomed to die; or he was imprisoned somewhere by circumstances which he could not avoid without betraying himself, or he was on the eve of some important discovery, which warranted him in! breaking the engagement he had made.
Nick feared that the boy had been rash and so betrayed himself, and he resolved to go to Flagherty's.
Before leaving the place appointed for the meeting, Nick scribbled a hasty note, and, crumpling it up in a wad, dropped it upon the stone flagging.
He knew that if Chick came and found that the detective had gone, he would look for a message, and find that one.
WHEN Nick reached Flagherty's saloon he found the usual crowd there, and among them was Pollock.
The detective made his way directly toward the lieutenant, but had not reached him when his progress was barred by the burly form of the bouncer whom he had so singularly knocked out on the previous night.
"Look a-here!" said the bouncer, in that swaggering tone which bullies of his stamp employ when they wish to make an impression, "you think ye're a fighter, don't you, hey?"
"Me no fighta," replied Nick.
"Well, I'm goin' ter lick ye, see? I'm goin' ter do ye up, see? Either ye're gotter git licked 'r I have, see?"
"Me see."
"We'll begin now."
As the bouncer spoke, he pulled a long knife from his pocket and made a quick lunge for Nick.
Directed against any one else, the attack would have: been fatal, but with Nick it was only an attempt.
He took a quick step backward and to one side.
Then he raised his right foot, and kicked with all his might.
His toe hit the bouncer's wrist, and the knife flew half-way across the room, striking the floor just in front of Pollock, where, point down, it remained quivering and vibrating for several seconds.
The bouncer was not given time to draw a second weapon, for Nick was upon him in an instant.
He seized him and whirled him around, and before the bouncer knew what had happened, he found himself lying across one of the beer tables, face down, while Nick was belaboring him with a cane, which he had seized from the grasp of one of the men standing near.
The cane fell mercilessly again and again.
The bouncer struggled with all his might to get free, but his efforts were in vain.
Swish—swish—swish went the cane, and the bouncer, who, a moment before had been so brave, began to cry for mercy.
No mercy was given him, and then he yelled for help.
That did not come, for there were many in the room who were secretly glad to see him get a thrashing.
Suddenly he uttered the distress cry of the "Night Hawks."
It was like a command.
By their oaths the " Night Hawks" were bound to obey it.
A score of men rushed forward, for the purpose of pulling Nick away from his victim, and with the intention of handling him even more roughly than he was serving the bouncer.
Interference came from an unexpected quarter.
Pollock leaped to his feet, and stood between Nick and the crowd confronting them.
"Back!" he exclaimed, raising his hand warningly.
He did not want to make a sign which would tell them that Nick was a "Night Hawk," for Nick had impressed him with his desire to remain incognito.
The men continued to advance.
On every side there were murmurs of disapproval of Pollock's course.
They could not understand why he defended one against whom the signal had been given.
Pollock, still loyal in his effort to protect Nick, drew his revolver.
Then a howl of rage arose.
The men were maddened by what looked like treachery on the part of their lieutenant.
The moment was a critical one.
Nick saw it all, even while he was engaged in his work upon the bouncer.
Dropping the cane, he seized the bouncer in his arms, and threw him with all his strength upon the floor at the feet of the advancing crowd.
Then, before they could make any added demonstration, Nick made a sign which Noxon had taught him, and which only those who belonged to the third flight, or were full-fledged hawks, could give.
All "Night Hawks" were taught to recognize it, but those who had not the right could not use it, under penalty of death.
The effect was instantaneous. The men stood amazed.
Who was this man who was unknown to them, and yet was above Pollock in authority?
Again Pollock waved his hand, and they shrank back, awed and cowed by this fresh intelligence.
Nick paid no further attention to any of them, although he did marvel at the wonderful power which was swayed over those unruly, turbulent men, by the secrets and mysteries of a thorough organization.
Under the management of their mysterious King Hawk, they were a dangerous body in the extreme, and if such an organization as theirs continued to grow and expand, the day would come when the city or cities wherein they made their headquarters would undergo a reign of terror and lawlessness second only to the history of France.
Nick never realized the fact so thoroughly as at that instant.
He never before recognized the magnificence of the task he had undertaken.
To attempt the destruction of the society of "Night Hawks" by plucking from it here and there would be like the effort to destroy a balm-of-gilead tree by cutting it down.
A thousand shoots would spring up from the old roots far and near, until the stump of the fallen tree would become the center of a flourishing grove, sucking its sap from the once thriving giant, and though not so mighty, be yet more deadly to the surrounding vegetation. Grass will not grow where the sunlight cannot enter.
Already the "Night Hawks" had spread their tentacles every where.
Somebody connected with the hotel, a bell-boy, a porter, a waiter, a clerk, a stable-man, or one higher in position was among them.
Somebody connected with the headquarters at the corner of Broad and Market streets, an officer, a clerk, a messenger, or a janitor was among them. That much Nick already knew.
He did not doubt that he could find bank-clerks, porters, or janitors, night watchmen, policemen, book-keepers of business houses, and men of seeming responsibility in the world, enrolled among their numbers.
Where would they not reach, ultimately?
How were they to be uprooted and destroyed?
He saw but one way, and in that instant, when he made the sign which forced the crowd back, he decided to employ it.
It was risky, and seemingly impossible, but if it worked, it would be effectual.
As soon as quiet was restored, and the bouncer, duly warned of Nick's supposed true character by one of his friends, had slunk away, Nick called Pollock to him, intending to make an appointment with him for the following night, and then go away.
"You do not intend to be present at the trial, then?" asked Pollock.
Nick wanted to ask what trial, but he refrained.
Presently Pollock continued:
"The boy was here last night, and brought me a message from Skidmore."
"What is the charge?" asked Nick, who knew at once that Pollock was referring to Chick.
"Honesty. He was ordered to procure something which had to be stolen. I have not learned the particulars. Skidmore makes the charge."
"Skidmore is shrewd."
"Very. Nobody ever ran the affairs of our degree as well as he has done."
"Ah!" thought Nick, "my friend Brown Beard and Skidmore are one and the same. Good. Now, if I postpone that trial—"
"I have a fancy to be present," he said, aloud to Pollock, "and yet I cannot go now."
"Why not have the trial deferred?"
"I will. Go to Skidmore and arrange it for me."
"Is it an order?"
"Yes."
"Will you send a sign?"
"No. You have had signs enough, and I do not trust Skidmore as I do you. Go at once."
Pollock rose and left the saloon, and shortly afterward Nick followed.
He did not know it, but whispers had gone around among the men that he was the King Hawk in disguise, and there was not one there who did not tremble at his approach, and breathe freer when he was gone, in such dread did they stand of the monarch of their order.
Pollock had also begun to think the same, and he went away determined to force Skidmore to do as he bade him without betraying the secret which he thought was his at any cost.
But Nick had a different fate in store for Skidmore, and he went away to prepare for it.
Skidmore's administration of the affairs of the second degree was to be cut very short.
THE next morning at ten o'clock a lady who seemed to be of middle age, but who was closely veiled, entered the public buildings at Broad and Market streets, and made her way to the office of the chief of detectives.
She asked to see Chief Woods in person, and after waiting fifteen or twenty minutes, she was shown into his private office.
"What can I do for you, madam?" asked the chief, for a call from a woman always annoyed him.
"I have brought you some important information," she said.
"Indeed! What is it?"
"A satchel containing upward of twenty thousand dollars is to be carried from the Continental Hotel to the Pennsylvania depot at two o'clock to day."
"Well?"
"There is a plot to steal it."
"Indeed! by whom?"
"By those who will succeed, unless you take decided steps to prevent it."
"You seem to be well posted."
"I am."
"Who are these daring thieves?"
"The 'Night Hawks.'"
"Ah! and madam, who are you?"
She threw back her veil and laughed, at the same time speaking in a different voice.
"Don't you know, chief?"
"Nick Carter!"
"Exactly."
"You're a good one, Nick. Now, tell me what you mean."
"I mean a good deal, chief. I am a 'Night Hawk' now, and have seen them in session in their second degree. That degree is captained by a man named Skidmore, who is a cold-blooded scoundrel, and a shrewd one, too.
"There is a member of the 'Night Hawks' engaged about the hotel in some capacity, or at all events, somebody learned of the fact regarding the twenty thousand dollars.
"Skidmore assigned himself to the task of stealing the satchel, and you will have to be as shrewd as he is to prevent him and to nab him at the same time."
"I guess we can do that."
"Not by the ordinary means."
"Why not?"
"Those 'Night Hawks' know every man on your force. For once you will have to resort to disguises. I want Skidmore captured without fail."
"All right, Nick."
"I've got another favor to ask."
"Well?"
"When captured, I want him placed in solitary confinement, and kept there until I see him, if it is a month, and I do not want a soul more than is absolutely necessary to know of the attempted theft, or of the arrest. More, I don't want anybody but ourselves to know that the 'Night Hawks' are concerned in this."
"It shall be done, Nick."
"Thanks."
When Chief Woods made up his mind to do a thing it was as good as done.
Nick knew that, and felt perfectly easy about the result of Skidmore's attempt.
As the matter turned out it was better than anticipated, for the chief not only captured Skidmore, but his assistant, who proved to be the man who sat under the green light opposite Pollock.
That night at ten o'clock Nick, in his Italian costume, met Pollock at the house in Peanut alley.
"Pollock," he said, "do you wish to go higher in the order?"
"Yes, oh, yes!"
"How much do you know about it?"
"Much that I ought not."
"Tell me all."
"I know the meeting-place of those who are full-fledged."
"Ah, you do, eh?"
"Yes. Forgive me. I discovered it by accident."
"Do you know when they meet?"
"Yes. At twelve to-night. I know also that my life is forfeited by revealing this knowledge, even to you."
"I may, perhaps, forgive you; but first you must prove it."
"How, sir?"
"By taking me there."
"When?"
"To-night."
"I will do so, sir, but I—"
"You need not fear. You will be spared."
At midnight Pollock and Nick were in a carriage.
They were driven to a handsome residence in Walnut street, and Pollock, with trembling fingers, pointed out the house.
"It is well, Pollock," said Nick. "Leave me here. Go back and see that no measures are taken about that boy until daylight. In two hours return here, and bring with you the perch and the two bowers of the third flight."
Nick left the carriage and Pollock drove away.
"Now, my work begins," muttered the detective.
He went boldly up the steps and rang the bell.
A moment later the door was opened an inch or more.
Nick made a sign, and said:
"A message of great importance for the King Hawk from the perch of the third flight."
The door was opened and he was admitted to the hall.
"Deliver your message," said the man who admitted him.
"To whom?"
"To me."
"Who are you?"
"Him for whom you inquired."
"My message is this!"
With a bound Nick was upon the man.
He struggled valiantly, but could not escape.
Then he uttered a loud cry.
Nick knew that it called for help, and he struck the man with his fist, felling him just in time to be ready for a second man who came to the assistance of the first.
He was not as powerful as the other, and although he fired his pistol twice, Nick was unhurt.
Five minutes later the two men were handcuffed and helpless upon the floor, prisoners of Nick Carter.
Then he searched the house.
It was a palatial residence, and the two men who lived there were evidently supported in magnificent idleness by the profits of the thefts they directed.
He found lists of the entire order, and everything of value to him in continuing his work.
From that moment he knew that it would be easy sailing for him.
Having bound the two men, who were the King Hawk and his assistant, so securely that they could not hope to escape, Nick left the house and hurried to the nearest corner.
There he found a policeman to whom he gave a message for the inspector in charge at headquarters.
Then he returned to the house, and having thoroughly gagged his two prisoners and concealed them in a closet, he waited.
At the time appointed Pollock appeared, accompanied by the men for whom Nick had sent him.
Nick admitted them, having arrayed himself in a domino that he had found in the house.
It was the first time that they had ever been admitted to the presence of the King Hawk, and they were awed accordingly.
"Lieutenant Pollock becomes a full-fledged hawk from this hour," said Nick. "Him you will obey."
Pollock was overwhelmed and speechless.
"Go," continued Nick to the others. "Assemble your men in their places of meeting. Tell them that a new order of things is to be enacted to-night, and that they will all see the King Hawk.
"I shall come, accompanied by Pollock and my body-guard, and shall visit only the third and the second flights. The third at four o'clock. The second immediately after. Go."
They left, and Nick, having given Pollock. some instructions, sent him away also, telling him to meet him at the entrance to the third flight, which was in another part of the "Palace."
Presently, the door-bell rang, and four men entered when Nick opened the door.
They were officers sent in response to his message.
He was told that his suggestions would be carried out to the letter.
Then he sent his two prisoners away in charge of the four men, and started for the warehouse.
Every suggestion that he had made had been fulfilled.
Groups of men stood about everywhere, concealing themselves from observation as best they could.
Nick found Pollock where he had been instructed to meet him, and with him entered the warehouse.
The paraphernalia was the same in the third flight as in the second. There were, however, only nineteen members. After delivering a short address, Nick left the room, and went to the antechamber.
There he called Pollock.
"Go back," he said, "and inform the perch that I will return in a moment without my domino. Let every man be upon his knees with bowed head."
Pollock went back, and Nick hurried to the street. When he returned a moment later the doors were left open behind him, and he was followed by a dozen policemen.
The guard was quickly made captive.
Then the signal was given and the door opened.
So abject were the men, in their fear of the King Hawk, that Nick and the men were stationed about the room where they wished to be before any one looked up.
Then Nick uttered one word.
"Surrender!" he said.
The men leaped to their feet, but a dozen were quickly knocked senseless by clubs in the officers' hands.
In five minutes every man there was captured.
After fastening them securely, Nick told the policemen to array themselves in the "Night Hawk" regalia.
There was a means of connection between the two meeting-places, and having instructed one of the policemen how to act, word was sent to the second degree that they would be received in the upper room in delegations of five.
Presently they began to arrive, and as fast as they came, they were made prisoners.
At the end of an hour there were two hundred and seventy-four prisoners in the old warehouse.
Never before had such a wholesale arrest been made in Philadelphia.
The organization of "Night Hawks" was broken up.
The first degree was not officered, and was made up of the lower or ignorant class of crooks, and it died a natural death.
The officers were all thoroughly punished, most of them having to answer for so many crimes that the rest of their lives would be spent behind prison walls.
Nick persuaded Pollock to turn State's evidence, thus assisting in the conviction of the others, and escaping, in a great measure, himself.
Chick was found imprisoned in a room in the house in Peanut alley, where he had been confined for forty-eight hours.
The King Hawk proved to be a notorious gambler, who had conceived and carried into effect the powerful and dangerous organization which Nick Carter had broken up so effectually.
Uncommon sagacity and wonderful luck helped Nick in his work, and he returned to New York with the thanks of Superintendent Lamon and Chief Woods ringing pleasantly in his ears.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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