Nick Carter Stories No. 145, June 19, 1915: An Unsolved Mystery; Or, Nick Carter's Goverment Case

The old gentleman passed the other two as if they were strangers. He jostled by them without so much as a glance. The most observing person in the throng then pouring out of the railway station, like a swarm of busy bees out of a colossal hive, would have detected no relation between them.

While passing the couple, nevertheless, the old gentleman said quickly to one of them, though scarce above his breath:

“Go to the new Willard. Register as directed, and get a suite, Wait there till I come.”

The man addressed heard him, but did not turn his head, nor evince the fact with the slightest change of countenance.

His companion, a natty, keen-eyed chap with a blond mustache twirled upward at the ends à la kaiser, appeared oblivious to what had occurred.

The scene of this trivial episode, which was far more portentous than one would suppose, having a bearing on no less tremendous an issue than the possible fate of a nation, was the new Union Station in the city of Washington, and the hour was two o’clock one fine afternoon in October.

The old gentleman hastened out with the throng into Massachusetts Avenue, seeking a trolley car and mingling with the crowd in a plebian sort of a way, as if business of no great importance had brought him to the nation’s capital.

He rode down Pennsylvania Avenue as far as Fourteenth Street, where he alighted and walked the remaining distance to the Treasury Building, entering one of the side doors with an air and display of interest often observed in the crowds of tourists to be seen in this vast building at that hour of the day. No observer would have supposed him other than a sight-seeing stranger, viewing Uncle Sam’s great money box and financial institution for the first time in his life.

Something like five minutes later, nevertheless, he entered one of the numerous offices without the ceremony of knocking, and blandly addressed a clerk who turned from his desk to see who had entered.

“I suppose Chief Welden is inside?” he said inquiringly.

“Yes, sir,” bowed the clerk. “I will take in your card, or name, if----”

“Don’t trouble,” interrupted the old gentleman, smiling. “I am his uncle. He is expecting me. I will go right in.”

He did not wait for an objection, had any been forthcoming, but opened a near door and walked into an adjoining private office. It was quite large and elaborately furnished. But the only occupant was an attractive, clean-cut man seated at a large, roll-top desk.

“Don’t rise, Welden,” said the old gentleman, after closing the door. “Have a look at my card. It will supply the needed link. Even you are not likely to recognize me.”

Chief Welden, then the head of the United States secret service, glanced at the card the speaker displayed for a moment and then coolly returned to his own pocket.

It bore the name of the celebrated New York detective--Nick Carter.

Chief Welden laughed.

“Gracious!” said he, pointing to a chair with one hand and extending the other. “No, indeed; I would not recognize you. You’re the limit, Nick, when it comes to giving one a surprise. Why did you come in this rig?”

“A summons direct from the nation’s chief executive, Welden, must be occasioned by something of vast importance,” Nick replied, drawing up a chair and cordially shaking hands with the treasury official. “It imposes corresponding circumspection upon one of my vocation. I decided to drop in here under cover and learn what is wanted of me.”

“I knew that the president had communicated with you and I was expecting you to show up during the day,” said Chief Welden, more gravely.

“I got the special-delivery letter this morning.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Half an hour ago.”

“Alone?”

“As you see,” said Nick evasively.

Chief Welden swung round in his swivel chair, so as to directly face the noted detective. There had been other times when the keen and clever men under his direction had been baffled by perplexing problems, resulting in an appeal to the famous New York detective; but judging from Welden’s expression at that moment, none could have been more important than that which had occasioned this summons of Nick Carter to Washington, an appeal direct from the president himself.

“I will tell you as briefly as possible what has occurred, Nick, and why it has been thought wise to employ you,” said Welden.

“Do so,” bowed the detective.

“To begin with, Carter, we have in the war department a young man named Harold Garland. He is about thirty, remarkably gifted along certain lines, and strictly reliable. Understand that at the outset; his integrity is above suspicion. I am absolutely sure of that.”

“Very good,” said Nick. “What about him?”

“He is a graduate from West Point, and is in the employ of the government as an expert engineer, in which capacity he is, as I have said, remarkably gifted. He unquestionably is without a peer in this country in his special line. He has an office in the war department, and I will presently send for him.”

“I shall be glad to meet him,” Nick observed.

“Now, to go back a little,” Chief Welden continued. “Something like eight months ago, Nick, I was informed by two of our secret-service agents abroad that foreign spies were known to be in Washington, said to be here on some secret mission, the nature of which was not definitely known. It was suspected, nevertheless, that they were here after information concerning elaborate coast defenses and fortifications contemplated by the government, which in some sections are under secret construction.”

“You received that information eight months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Were the reports verified? Were the spies identified?”

“Neither,” said Welden. “The suspicion could not be confirmed either here or abroad. The fact that the same report came at about the same time from two of our foreign agents, one then located in Vienna and the other in Paris, and there having been no communication between them, led me to give considerable credit to their report, much more than if there had been but one.”

“I see the point,” Nick nodded.

“We were not able to verify it, nevertheless, nor have we since succeeded in doing so. Nor have our agents abroad been able to add to the meager information obtained at the time. Under such circumstances, of course, having no confirmation of their reports, the matter became a little stale after eight months.”

“Naturally,” Nick allowed.