Nick Carter Stories No. 141, May 22, 1915: The duplicate night

A fateful moment in the lives and fortunes of some to whom there then came no premonition of evil, no dread of the terrible sword that hung by a hair above their heads, upon whom was cast no shadow through the glare and glitter around them, amid the gay festivities in which each played a part.

It was a fateful moment, one brought only by chance to the notice of Nick Carter.

It was remembered by the celebrated detective, moreover, only because of two incidents that would have been entirely unnoticed by a less keen and discerning man.

One was the single stroke of a tall, old-fashioned clock in the main hall of the great mansion.

It struck the half after ten.

The hall in which it struck, and in which Nick Carter then was standing, was that of the magnificent Carrington mansion on Washington Heights, the home of the wealthy railway magnate, Horace K. Carrington, a millionaire fifty times over, and prominent with his handsome wife in the most fashionable and exclusive circles of New York society.

It was the night of the fifteenth of January, memorable for an unusual warm spell of more than a week, which had melted the last vestige of snow and drawn the last sign of frost from the ground.

It was also memorable as the night of a private masked ball in the Carrington mansion, in which something like three hundred of their most intimate friends had gathered.

The avenue and streets adjoining the extensive estate were thronged with conveyances of the most expensive kinds, limousines, and costly motor cars predominating.

The elegant grounds, covering nearly an entire square, were almost as bright as day under the glare of a myriad of electric lights suspended among the trees of the surrounding park.

The superb mansion itself was ablaze from basement to roof. Its broad halls and spacious, sumptuously furnished rooms were thronged with masked guests, many in elaborate fancy and historic costumes, and some in nondescript attire.

Courtiers and princes rubbed elbows with clowns and jesters. Queens in regal raiment hobnobbed in corners and alcoves with country bumpkins, while the whirl of the dance presented a kaleidoscopic picture, the details of which would require a volume. It was a weird, yet dazzling picture, with the gleam and glitter of jewels of inestimable worth.

Aside from the numerous officers and guardians in and about the extensive grounds, guardians of diamonds and gems that would have aggregated millions, two men in evening dress and of refined and unofficial bearing mingled with the servants and other house functionaries in various parts of the mansion, apparently having only an eye to the general conduct of affairs.

These two men were Nick Carter and his chief assistant, Chick Carter, both carefully disguised, the balmasque feature of the gathering and the unusual opportunity for knavery that it presented, in view of costly jewels worn by his guests, having led their host to secretly employ the two famous detectives as safeguards against designing intruders and possible crime.

At precisely half past ten, the fateful moment mentioned, Nick Carter was standing in the main hall and near the front door of the house. He could see the entire length of the hall, the broad stairway to the second floor, and through several open doors the throng of dancers in the adjoining rooms. All of them still wore masks, eleven o’clock having been the hour stipulated for their removal.

Mingled with the strains of orchestral music the single stroke of the clock reached the detective’s ear. There was no mistaking the sweet and mellow resonance of its bell.

At the same moment a woman, threading her way between numerous other persons in the hall caught the detective’s eye.

She was one of the guests, and her costume spoke for itself. She was clad completely in black, from her dainty ties to the mask that hid her face and the veil that partly concealed her hair and fell in picturesque folds over her shapely neck and shoulders. But this ebon costume was bespangled with countless glittering stars and radiant diamonds.

Plainly enough, she was a personification of--Night.

Nick thought it a striking costume, one that set off to advantage the fine, graceful form of the woman. He watched her furtively while she came through the hall and went up the stairs to the second floor. He could see the gleam and glitter of her eyes, but no other feature of her face, yet he felt sure she was comparatively young and beautiful.

“She appears to be a bit nervous and in a hurry,” he said to himself, while she mounted the stairs. “She may be seeking some one, or possibly has lost her partner for this dance. That would irritate most young women.”

Nick turned upon hearing the voice of his chief assistant. Chick had just entered through the open front door and paused at Nick’s elbow.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he said quietly.

“They are not worth it,” Nick dryly answered. “I was thinking of a woman who just went upstairs. She is clad all in black and sprinkled with stars. She evidently represents Night, and I----”

“There she is, now,” said Chick, with a glance toward the rear part of the hall.

Nick gazed in that direction.

“By Jove, that’s quite remarkable,” he muttered audibly.

“It is a striking costume, Nick, for fair.”

“I don’t mean the costume.”

“No? What do you mean?”

“That two women have costumes precisely alike,” said Nick. “This one appears to be an exact duplicate of the other. She is, so to speak, a duplicate Night.”

“She probably is the same one,” said Chick.

“Impossible!”

“Why so?”

“The other just went upstairs. She cannot be in two places at once.”

“She may have come down. There is a side stairway.”

“She would not have had time when you called my attention to her. She had only disappeared at the head of these stairs.”

“There can be only one explanation,” said Chick. “There are two women wearing similar costumes. There evidently is, as you put it, a duplicate Night.”

Nick had been watching this second woman while they were talking, and his brows had knit perceptibly.

“She appears a bit nervous and in a hurry, like the other,” he muttered, after the masked woman had gazed into two of the rooms in which the dance was in progress. “She evidently is searching for some one.”