Nick Carter Stories No. 157, September 11, 1915: A human counterfeit; or, Nick Carter and the crook's double.

“Extraordinary--that doesn’t half express it. I know of no word that would. To some extent, Nick, at least, men’s motives are usually discernible in their conduct. But in this case--why, there was nothing to it. It is utterly inexplicable. It was like a horrid dream, a hideous nightmare, or the mental abnormalities of a dope fiend.”

Nick Carter laughed and spread his napkin, with a significant glance at his chief assistant, Chick Carter, who sat at one side of the table, that of a private dining room in a new and fashionable New York hotel.

“Well, Mr. Clayton, if the story you have to tell warrants so remarkable a preface, it will be interesting, at least,” said the famous detective.

“Yes, Nick, and then some,” Chick agreed, smiling. “He so has aroused my curiosity that I really am all ears.”

“I don’t think I shall disappoint you,” said their companion, more gravely.

He was a fashionably clad man of thirty-five, of medium build and with clean-cut, attractive cast of features, smoothly shaved. There was in other respects nothing specially distinctive about him. He was the type of well-bred, well-informed, and thorough business man with which New York City abounds.

“Aside from the pleasure of having you dine with me, I am very glad of the privilege of telling you about my extraordinary experience,” he added, gazing across the table at Nick. “I want your opinion about it. I was tempted to call on you for advice immediately after it occurred, but there were many reasons why I did not do so. I have been terribly busy, you know, since the opening of the new Westgate six months ago, when the directors gave me entire management of the house. Busy, Mr. Carter, is no name for it.”

“I can imagine so,” said Nick. “You certainly have a magnificent hotel here.”

“There is none better in the city, nor one more generously patronized by wealthy and fashionable people,” said Clayton, with a quiet display of pride. “We are getting the cream not only of local society, but also that of the traveling public. We are almost constantly crowded. It’s an honor, indeed, to be the sole manager of such a house.”

“I agree with you, Clayton, but you are the man for the position, I judge,” said Nick. “I guess the board of directors made no mistake.”

“It was partly due, perhaps, to my owning quite a block of the stock,” Clayton replied, with a smile. “Now, to return to the main matter, I will tell you of my extraordinary experience.”

“When did it occur, Clayton?” Nick inquired.

“Three months ago, Mr. Carter, during the first three days in September.”

“Three days, eh? It covered a considerable period.”

“A period of apprehension and anxiety beyond description.”

“Began at the beginning, Clayton, and tell me the whole business.”

“I can tell you only what occurred. It will be up to you to determine why it was done and what it signified.”

“I will endeavor to do so.”

“As is my custom once a week,” Clayton began, “I had been out to Washington Heights to dine with my mother, who dislikes hotel life and for whom I bought an attractive place out there three years ago. Miss Langham was with me, the young lady to whom I am engaged. She is the only daughter of Gustavus Langham, president of the Century Trust Company.’

“I am acquainted with him,” Nick observed.

“They have a suite here in the house,” Clayton added. “My only other companion was my chauffeur, Paul Hazen, who was driving my touring car. We started to return about ten o’clock. We had covered less than half a mile, and had arrived at a point in the road where there are no near dwellings, when we were held up by a touring car that stopped as we were approaching, and at such an angle across the road that we could not pass it.”

“The occupants evidently had been waiting for you,” Chick remarked.

“So I presently learned, though I did not think so at the time,” Clayton replied. “One of the men in the car, the top of which was up and the side curtains on, had alighted and was looking at one of the front wheels. Two other men were getting out, and I inferred that they had met with a mishap. The moment we stopped, however, some twenty feet from them, all three approached my car, and one of them called me by name. I then supposed him a friend, whom I did not immediately recognize.”

“Was it a dark evening?” Nick inquired.

“Not at all. It was bright starlight.”

“What followed?”

“The spokesman of the party did not wait for an answer,” Clayton continued. “He drew a revolver and ordered me to get out of my car, saying that I must go with him. At the same time another drew a gun and held up my chauffeur.”

“What type of men were they?” Nick asked. “Did they appear to be ruffians?”

“Quite the contrary. They were well dressed and appeared like gentlemen, aside from their conduct. Each wore a full beard, however, and I at once suspected that they were in disguise.”

“A very natural inference, Clayton, under the circumstances.”

“They meant business, all right, for my protest was immediately checked with a more threatening command to get out of the car. I was told, nevertheless, that I would not be harmed, robbed, nor subjected to any serious inconvenience, providing I made no resistance. I was also told that their only purpose was to detain me from this hotel for a short time.”

“I follow you,” Nick nodded.

“Their spokesman, who did all of the talking, so informed Miss Langham and Hazen,” Clayton proceeded. “He commanded them to return to the hotel, and to state that I had left town for a few days. He warned them against disclosing the truth and making a stir over my abduction. He threatened, in case they did, that my life would be the forfeit. On the other hand, he promised that I should be liberated and allowed to return safely, if his instructions were rigidly obeyed.”

“Did you say anything to him except to protest against the outrage?”

“No. He wouldn’t permit it, and the interview lasted only a few moments. I saw plainly that I had no alternative but to obey, however, and I resolved to take the rascal on his word. I directed Hazen and Clara to obey the scoundrel, therefore, and to take no steps for a few days, at least.”

“I infer that they did so, since the outrage was not published.”

“Exactly. That was the reason.”

“You then went with the gang?”

“Yes. I had no alternative. Hazen was ordered to drive on with Miss Langham, and the gang waited until my car had disappeared. I then was commanded to get into the other, which I did, taking a seat between two of the knaves in the tonneau.”

“Were there only three in the gang?”