UNDER THE TIGER’S CLAWS; OR, A Struggle for the Right

BY NICHOLAS CARTER AUTHOR OF “The Great Enigma,” “Hounded to Death,” “The Price of a Secret,” “The Man of Mystery,” “Run to Earth,” “Sealed Orders,” “The Seal of Death,” “Driven from Cover,” etc.

NEW YORK STREET & SMITH, Publishers 79-89 Seventh Avenue

Copyright, 1905 By STREET & SMITH

CHAPTER I. THE MAN AND THE MONEY.

“Well, my dear Gilsey, I rather think I can land him for you,” declared Nick Carter, with an odd smile lurking in the corners of his keen, gray eyes.

“But that will not do, Nick,” protested Mr. Raymond Gilsey, with an immediate display of apprehension.

“Not do, sir?”

“It may not be what I want.”

“Not what you want?”

“Not exactly, Nick,” and Mr. Raymond Gilsey decisively shook his head.

He was a venerable banker, with a remarkably gentle and benevolent countenance. He was the president of the Milmore Trust Company, a banking-institution located in Forty-second Street, the patrons of which consisted chiefly of business firms in the immediate neighborhood, and of wealthy women, to whom the up-town location of the bank was a convenience.

It was in Mr. Gilsey’s handsome private office that Nick Carter was seated, one afternoon early in May, in response to a telephone request from the banker about an hour before. Between the two there existed a friendship of long standing, and the celebrated detective had hastened to respond. As yet, however, he had received but a hint at the business for which he had been called, and he wondered a little at the banker’s obvious misgivings, as appeared in his remarks noted above.

“Please explain, Mr. Gilsey,” said Nick. “Certainly, if there is a deficit in your cash, and you suspect—— Ah, but stop a moment. Perhaps it will be just as well, my dear Gilsey, if our interview——”

The last, spoken with lowered voice, was considered with a significant glance in the direction of Gilsey’s private stenographer, who sat busily engaged near one of the office windows, and Nick’s glance was equivalent to a suggestion that the presence of a third party might wisely be dispensed with.

This third party was a young woman named Belle Braddon, apparently about twenty-five years of age. Certain features about her, however, which Nick’s keen eyes were quick to notice, indicated that Miss Braddon was in divers ways experienced beyond her years.

She was that type of girl quite properly termed dashing. 7 Her figure was striking, her face handsome, with mobile red lips, alluring blue eyes, and cheeks with a soft tinge of color not entirely their own. She had, too, an unusual abundance of wavy auburn hair, which was then arranged in picturesque disorder. Regarded from top to toe, she was decidedly noticeable, and the style of girl to which most men are quick to respond.

Nick Carter, however, did not quite fancy the general appearance of Miss Braddon, and he abruptly decided that her absence was desirable. In response to the cue so quietly given him, the banker glanced at the girl, and asked:

“What are you now at work on, Belle?”

Miss Braddon started slightly, much as if her ears had been deaf to any preceding remarks, then turned with a gracious smile to her employer.

“On the quarterly reports which you dictated this morning,” she replied, with a peculiarly clear and penetrating voice.

“You may drop that for the present, Belle, as I may change some of the concluding pages,” said Mr. Gilsey.

“Very well, sir.”

“Are my letters ready for signing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may leave them on your table. As I shall be 8 engaged with this gentleman for some time, and will not require you later, I will excuse you for the rest of the day.”

“Ah, thank you very much, Mr. Gilsey,” cried Miss Braddon, beaming gratefully as she arose from her table. “That will be very nice, sir. I can do a little shopping.”

The banker nodded and smiled, then reverted to Nick, and conversed with him upon casual matters while the girl prepared to go. Apparently, Nick did not notice her, but he nevertheless saw all that was worth noting.

As Miss Braddon put on a broad picture hat and her light wrap, her expression became more grave and her cheeks lost some of their color.

Twice she glanced furtively at the detective, with a certain resentful gleam in her pretty eyes. That it did not entirely please her, despite her effusive thanks, was evinced in the slight curl of her red lips; yet she presently bowed politely and departed, gently closing the office door.

“An attractive girl, Gilsey, your stenographer,” remarked Nick carelessly.

“Miss Braddon?” queried the banker, smiling complacently. “So she is, Nick, and as capable and charming as she is showy.”

“I did not say showy,” laughed Nick dryly. “I said attractive.”

“Much the same, Nick, when applied to a woman.”

“Has she been long in your employ?”

“About four months.”

“Of course, she came well recommended?”

“Decidedly so,” bowed Gilsey; then he added, with a smile and headshake: “You professional detectives are habitually suspicious of everybody, I really believe. That girl is all right, Nick, take my word for it. Her uncle, with whom she lives, is one of our largest depositors.”

“Ah, I see,” smiled Nick, a bit oddly. “Now, my dear Gilsey, why have you sent for me? What can I do for you?”

The banker became grave in an instant.

“There are two reasons, Nick, why I have appealed to you,” said he. “First, because we are old friends, and I know that you will do just what I require upon this case, and no more than I require.”

“And your second reason?”

“Because I know I can safely trust you, Nick, and that you will give no publicity to the case after having dropped it, providing your investigations warrant dropping it. That is more than I could expect or hope for 10 from men of the central office, and so I have appealed to you, relying upon our long friendship to influence you to aid me.”

Nick nodded gravely for a moment, noting the profound anxiety now reflected in the banker’s venerable face.

“I certainly will do what I can for you, Gilsey, and you may depend upon me to be discreet,” said he warmly. “Now, what is the trouble here? You intimated that a deficit exists in your cash.”

“So I did, Nick, yet I am not sure of it.”

“Not sure of it?”

“That seems strange to you,” replied Gilsey. “I can explain in a few words.”

“Well?”

“Mr. Cecil Kendall, one of my most trusty clerks, has been absent on a vacation for several days. During the illness of our cashier, Mr. Knights, for nearly three months, Kendall has been doing double his share of work. He has handled the cashier’s end of our business, as well as his own.”

“I follow you,” said Nick attentively.

“My own duties here are very arduous,” continued Gilsey, “yet, as far as possible, I always keep an eye 11 upon the work of all of my clerks. Kendall, however, is a man of unusual ability, an expert accountant, and a man in whom I have had the greatest confidence. His work on the books has always been satisfactory, yet in doing double his ordinary duties it would not be strange if some of his work had fallen a little behind.”

“That is true,” admitted Nick. “Do you find that the books are not in proper shape up to date?”

“Unfortunately, I cannot tell,” was the reply. “Kendall went to Boston to attend the wedding of his brother last Tuesday. He was to have returned this morning, but has not yet appeared, nor sent me any word explaining his absence. I am unable to tell in just what condition he left his accounts. I know, however, that several large amounts were received here during Monday, and also that considerable was used for the payment of notes which came due that day.”

“I see, sir.”

“It was an exceedingly busy day for Mr. Kendall,” continued the banker, “and he worked here Monday until compelled to leave to catch a late train to Boston. I went home at my usual hour, about four o’clock, so did not see him after he wound up his Monday work. Whether he has left part of his work undone, depending upon memoranda of which I am ignorant, I cannot 12 say. All I know, Nick, is that he has not returned to-day, as expected, and that there appears to be a serious deficit in the cash accounts.”

“How serious?”

“Nearly ninety thousand dollars.”

“Whew! Serious, indeed!” exclaimed the detective. “Have you no way of getting at the exact truth?”

“Oh, yes, it can be done,” replied Gilsey quickly. “But it would require time, and occasion a publicity which I wish to prevent, for a day or two, at least, in the hope that Kendall will return, or can be found, and show that matters here are all right. In fact, Nick, I am inclined to think they are, and that I am needlessly alarmed; yet, for the protection of our depositors, I feel that I must take some step at this time.”

“Quite properly, too.”

“I wish to locate Kendall as quickly as possible. I want him here, that an explanation may be made. In case I am entirely wrong, however, and no deficit really exists, I do not wish Kendall to learn of my misgivings, and that I have employed a detective, the injustice of which would seriously and needlessly wound him.”

“That is very true,” admitted Nick thoughtfully. “I now see about what you want of me, Gilsey. You wish me to locate Kendall as quickly as possible, and send 13 or bring him here without disclosing your doubts and apprehensions.”

“Exactly.”

“If he is perfectly honest, as you are still inclined to think, it should be an easy matter to locate him before to-morrow.”

“Easy for one of your experience, Nick; and that is precisely why I have called upon you.”

“Do you know Kendall’s Boston address?”

“I have already wired to his Boston friends.”

“With what result?”

“A message in reply states that Kendall left for New York last night.”

“Does it state by what route?”

“It does not.”

“Ordinarily, he should have arrived here this morning,” remarked Nick, more gravely. “There is a bare possibility, Gilsey, that he is a victim of foul play.”

“I have thought of that, Nick, which also deters me from acting too hastily, or making any immediate charges.”

“Do you know whether Kendall had much money with him?”

“I do not.”

“If he had what you fear may be missing, Mr. Gilsey, he had a good, round sum,” observed Nick dryly.

The banker shook his head.

“I cannot yet believe it,” said he gravely. “There are, too, other parties whom I would spare the pain of knowing that I have unjustly suspected Kendall of embezzlement, and gone so far as to call in a detective.”

“What other parties, Gilsey?” inquired Nick, with brows lifting slightly.

“I refer to Doctor Leonard Royal, of Fordham, the Episcopal rector, and to his family,” explained the banker. “I infer from what I see of the couple that Kendall is engaged to marry the rector’s daughter, Medora Royal. He is, too, an intimate friend of young Harry Royal, the rector’s only son, who went to Boston with him. It happens, Nick, that Doctor Royal and I have been lifelong friends. I regard him as fondly as a brother. In case I am wrong, Nick, I would not for the world have them know that I suspect Kendall.”

“I see, my dear Gilsey.”

“In a nutshell, Nick, I wish you to locate him for me as quickly as possible.”

“But not arrest him?”

For an instant the banker hesitated, then said huskily:

“No, Nick, not that. Not—not unless——”

“Ah, well, if any ‘unless’ creeps in, I shall know what to do without instructions,” Nick bluntly interposed. “Now, Mr. Gilsey, give me Kendall’s city address.”

“He occupies bachelor’s apartments in Fifty-ninth Street. Here is the number. He has not been there to-day, however.”

“How long since you sent to inquire?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Is he a clubman?”

“I think not.”

Nick Carter replaced his note-book in his pocket, then arose and took his hat from the banker’s table.

CHAPTER II. WHERE TIDES MEET.

Before making his departure, Nick again turned to the banker and said:

“One more question occurs to me, Gilsey. How did you happen to discover that a deficit possibly exists in your cash, and under the circumstances stated?”

“Well, it—it was a perfectly natural discovery in the course of to-day’s business,” Mr. Gilsey faltered.

A subtle gleam showed for a moment in Nick’s keen eyes.

“Do you know of anything, or have you ever heard anything, which at once led you to examine Kendall’s accounts when he failed to appear at his desk this morning?” he demanded.

The banker hesitated for barely a second, and Nick cried curtly:

“Come, come, Gilsey, there is something more. Let me have the whole business, all you know, or up go my hands and I drop the case. I thought you knew I was a man to be safely trusted, dear fellow. Come, come, what sent you to Kendall’s books so hurriedly?”

The banker colored slightly, and now hastened to reply.

“Well, Nick, to be perfectly frank with you, despite that I give no credit to the statement, it was said to me about two weeks ago that Kendall was given to gambling.”

“Oh, ho! Gambling, eh? Who said so?”

“A brother banker, Nick, whose name certainly is not material at this time.”

“Well? Anything more?”

“I asked Kendall about it that very day, and he denied the report and laughed it to scorn. I could not believe it of him, Nick, and did not.”

“What did your brother banker say, Mr. Gilsey?”

“Merely that he had seen both Kendall and young Harry Royal one evening coming out of a gambling-house said to be owned and run by one Moses Flood.”

“Ha! Moses Flood, eh?” muttered Nick, with a curious smile.

“It must have been a mistake,” continued Gilsey, with augmented feeling. “Kendall is not a man of evil inclinations. It is not in his nature to have formed any relations whatever with a scoundrel who gambles for a living, and who runs a resort where——”

“Stop just a moment, Gilsey,” interrupted Nick, with an odd little laugh. “A man of your limited experience is very prone to misjudge men out of his own circle in life.”

“What do you mean, Nick?”

“Just this, my dear Gilsey,” said Nick, more seriously. “I know Moses Flood even better than I know you. Understand me, now, I do not advocate gambling, nor do I defend him as a gambler, for such he certainly is, and in that respect he is an outlaw and a man to be shunned. I am opposed to gambling of all kinds, whether done with cards, or in a pool-room, or on a race-track, or in the stock exchange.”

“Why, certainly, Nick, I already know that,” exclaimed 18 Gilsey, with a surprised expression in his gentle, blue eyes. “But what do you imply of this rascal?”

“Merely this,” smiled Nick. “Aside from his vocation, which in every way I despise, Moses Flood is not a rascal. I know what I am talking about, Gilsey. Flood is a man whose word is as good as any man’s bond. He is as square a man as ever stood in leather. If he wanted to borrow half my fortune till to-morrow, with no better security than his word alone, he could have it, and I should sleep soundly to-night, knowing that he had it.”

“You surprise me, Nick. I should not have formed that opinion of him.”

“Oh, I am but incidentally setting you right as to the man,” added Nick. “He is not a ruffian, nor is he a rascal, save in one way. He is well educated, a student of the sciences, and an admirer of the fine arts. His bachelor quarters are filled with superb treasures and paintings well worth seeing, a veritable art gallery in fact. I know that he gives most liberally to charity, moreover, and I am informed that no man was ever enticed into or intentionally cheated in his gaming-place, which is open only to the very wealthy and most exclusive of our men about town.”

“Still, if he——”

“But that’s enough for Flood, my dear Gilsey. If your 19 man Kendall has been one of his patrons, I shall know it before midnight. At nine o’clock to-morrow morning I will meet you here, or communicate with you by telephone.”

“And you expect——”

“That I shall then have located Kendall? Most decidedly I do, Gilsey. Trust me to be discreet, however, and to have your wishes well in mind.”

“A thousand thanks, Nick. I knew you would help me out.”

“Surely, old friend,” said Nick, as they shook hands. “Let the case rest until morning. The few hours will make no great difference one way or the other. Be here at nine to-morrow morning, and you shall know the—well, let’s hope it will be, not the worst, but the best.”

“Amen to that!” said Gilsey fervently.

It was three o’clock when Nick Carter left the Trust Company building and emerged into Forty-second Street.

As a matter of fact, the case did not appeal very strongly to the famous detective. His regard for Gilsey, much more than any feeling of interest in the affair, had led Nick to undertake the task imposed.

As to the case itself, it then presented no unusual nor especially interesting features. If Kendall had been gambling, as Nick was then inclined to suspect, it was 20 very possible that he was an embezzler, and had already fled from the country. Yet Nick decided that he would be governed by Gilsey’s wishes until the following morning.

Contrary to his anticipations, however, despite that Nick Carter was quick to see all the possibilities of a case, that into which he had now entered was destined to prove one of the most curious and absorbing, as well as most intensely exciting, that he had ever known.

Nick’s first move for locating Kendall that afternoon was characteristic of him. He turned to none of the avenues of information to which the ordinary detective usually turns. Instead, he hastened to the Grand Central Station and boarded the first train for Fordham, his destination being the rectory occupied by the learned divine, Doctor Leonard Royal. Nick reasoned that if Harry Royal had visited Boston with Kendall, and Dora Royal was in love with him, either the clergyman or his daughter could give him the information he desired.

As he approached the rectory, however, Nick met with a startling surprise. It was a fine old place, somewhat isolated, and was surrounded with no end of great shade trees, clusters of shrubbery, and high hedges. The dwelling itself, occupying the middle of the large estate, was a commodious wooden house, with deep verandas and 21 innumerable gables, and with a huge glass conservatory on the south side.

Peering through the high hedge adjoining the side street as he approached, Nick halted, with a muttered exclamation of surprise. Two men, one of them the elderly rector, were just entering the outer door of the conservatory.

The rector’s companion was none other than—Moses Flood, the gamester!

“He here!” murmured Nick. “What the dickens does this signify? He is the last man I would expect to see visiting this clergyman. If Gilsey’s brother banker was right, there may be much more in this case than I anticipated. The way looks easy, and I guess I’d better learn what brings Moses Flood out here.”

Having worked his way through the hedge, Nick crossed the grounds, carefully avoiding observation from the house, and presently darted under a cluster of lilacs close to the side wall of the great glass conservatory.

There he could plainly view the scene within, and he presently found a break in one of the glass panes which enabled him to overhear all that was said—an interview that caused him to open his eyes still a little wider.

The elderly rector was seated in a rustic chair, and his 22 benignant countenance evinced considerable perturbation and distress.

Moses Flood, however, was standing beside a small wooden table near-by, and as the story progresses he is to figure so strongly and strangely that he deserves a careful description.