Nick Carter Stories No. 123, January 16, 1915: Half a million ransom; or, Nick Carter and the needy nine.

Nick Carter caught sight of the couple only by chance. His touring car, in which he was seated with his chauffeur and Patsy Garvan, his junior assistant, was speeding through one of the winding driveways in Central Park, New York, and heading for Fifty-ninth Street.

“Hold on! Slow down, Danny!” he cried to his chauffeur. “That woman has fainted, or is in a fit.”

The woman was lying on the greensward near a diverging driveway, and some fifty yards from where Danny Maloney, startled by the detective’s sudden sharp commands, brought the touring car to a quick stop.

A girl in a white apron and a starched linen cap was bending over the woman and gazing around affrightedly, uncertain what to do. Seeing the car stop and the detectives alighting, she suppressed a scream for help and awaited their approach.

“She is down and out, chief, for fair,” said Patsy, while they ran toward the couple.

“Fainted, most likely,” said Nick tersely. “If more serious, we’ll rush her to the nearest physician, or call an ambulance.”

“By Jove, she’s getting up!” cried Patsy. “It’s not so bad, chief, after all. She’s not completely in the soup.”

They were rapidly approaching the couple while speaking.

The nurse, or governess, for such the young woman appeared to be, had arisen and was assisting the other to her feet.

She was a well-dressed woman of thirty-five, with an abundance of wavy auburn hair and rather thin features, fairly prepossessing, but then quite pale. She was wiping a white froth from her lips, and appeared weak and confused.

“What’s the trouble?” Nick asked, addressing the nurse. “When was she taken ill? Do you know her?”

He now suspected that the woman might be subject to fits, and that she would recover without medical aid.

“No, sir, I don’t know her,” replied the girl. “I was tending the children just around the curve, sir, when a boy ran up and told me that a woman had fainted. He pointed this way, and I hurried to help her, and that’s all I can tell you.”

“I shall be all right in a few moments,” said the woman, evidently striving to pull herself together. “Don’t be alarmed, nor do anything more. I shall come out of it.”

“Are you subject to such attacks?” Nick inquired, turning to her, while Patsy also drew nearer.

“Yes, sir, at times. It’s epilepsy, sir, but this was only a slight attack. I must have come out of it very quickly.”

“Do you want a physician?”

“No, sir. I shall be able to go home presently.”

“Where do you live?”

“In Eighty-first Street.”

“What name? I ask only lest you have a second attack.”

“Miss Margaret Hanson, sir. But I shall not have another attack at present. I never have two in quick succession. I now am able to go, sir, thanking you for your kindness.”

“I will take you home in my automobile, Miss Hanson, if you wish me to do so,” said Nick kindly.

“Oh, no, sir, thank you,” she quickly objected, gradually drawing away. “These attacks are not as serious as they appear. It will do me good to walk home, sir, thanking you again.”

She bowed and moved away with the last, evidently quite herself again, and Nick turned to Patsy and started to return to his touring car, in which Danny was waiting.

The girl in an apron and starched cap was just departing around a curve in the driveway some thirty yards distant, her trim figure partly hidden by some intervening shrubbery.

“Come on,” said Nick. “It was nothing serious, after all.”

He recalled the last with rather grim sentiments a few minutes later.

“An ordinary fit, chief, wasn’t it?” questioned Patsy.

“Yes, but only a mild one, as she said. I knew what the trouble was, all right, when I saw her wiping froth from her lips.”

“What a beastly affliction!”

“Beastly hardly expresses it,” said Nick. “Any disorder that knocks one out without warning is a deucedly bad affliction. If she had---- Hello! What now?”

A cry of alarm came from the direction in which the nurse had disappeared. Looking back, for Nick and Patsy had nearly reached the waiting touring car, they now beheld the girl running wildly hither and thither, excitedly wringing her hands, and evidently in a frantic search for some one.

Beyond the fringe of shrubbery flanking the curve of the driveway stood a baby carriage containing a child about two years old, then crying piteously.

“By Jove, there’s more trouble,” said Patsy. “What’s the matter with her? She spoke of tending the children. I can see only one. She must have lost track of the other.”

“It has strayed away, probably, or----”

Nick broke off abruptly, wheeling sharply around to gaze in the direction Miss Margaret Hanson had taken.

She had disappeared. Neither in the driveway, the adjoining grounds, nor in any part of the near avenue, was there any sign of her.

Nick Carter’s strong, clean-cut face underwent a decided change. He turned to Patsy, saying hurriedly:

“By Jove! This may be a put-up job. Get a move on, Patsy. Hunt up that woman who fainted. Find her, if possible, and keep your eye on her.”