Classic Audiobook Collection - The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter ~ Full Audiobook [mystery]
Episode Date: July 12, 2025The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter audiobook. Genre: mystery In a quiet stretch of the Bronx, not far from the New York Zoological Park, a feared surgeon has turned his rambling home into a private ...hospital - and whispers say the screams are not only animal. Dr. Hiram A. Grantley is brilliant, ruthless, and obsessed with pushing surgery beyond accepted limits. When antivivisectionist John D. Wallace brings alarming suspicions to famed detective Nick Carter, Carter decides the only way to learn the truth is to move in next door under an assumed name. Disguised as an ordinary family, Carter, his quick-witted assistant Patsy Garvan, and Patsy's intuitive wife Adelina begin a round-the-clock watch on Grantley's visitors: poor East Side patients who cannot pay, young doctors arriving after dark, and furtive movements that suggest something is being carried out at night.As the stake grows from rumor to imminent danger, Carter must balance stealth with urgency, risking exposure to catch Grantley in the act. With an allied surgeon ready to testify and a desperate plan to force an opening into the guarded house, the investigation drives toward a confrontation where medical ambition, human morality, and cold-blooded crime collide. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:09:56) Chapter 02 (00:21:15) Chapter 03 (00:28:48) Chapter 04 (00:35:27) Chapter 05 (00:42:48) Chapter 06 (00:48:49) Chapter 07 (00:57:01) Chapter 08 (01:04:51) Chapter 09 (01:14:18) Chapter 10 (01:25:02) Chapter 11 (01:35:18) Chapter 12 (01:41:27) Chapter 13 (01:49:55) Chapter 14 (01:58:10) Chapter 15 (02:06:28) Chapter 16 (02:13:15) Chapter 17 (02:21:34) Chapter 18 (02:29:16) Chapter 19 (02:36:47) Chapter 20 (02:44:43) Chapter 21 (02:52:37) Chapter 22 (02:59:50) Chapter 23 (03:12:05) Chapter 24 (03:20:03) Chapter 25 (03:28:48) Chapter 26 (03:38:51) Chapter 27 (03:47:33) Chapter 28 (03:56:42) Chapter 29 (04:04:31) Chapter 30 (04:13:05) Chapter 31 (04:23:29) Chapter 32 (04:31:12) Chapter 33 (04:38:50) Chapter 34 (04:46:25) Chapter 35 (04:55:06) Chapter 36 (05:01:11) Chapter 37 (05:08:50) Chapter 38 (05:15:20) Chapter 39 (05:18:53) Chapter 40 (05:23:35) Chapter 41 (05:28:59) Chapter 42 (05:35:48) Chapter 43 (05:40:35) Chapter 44 (05:46:35) Chapter 45 (05:50:13) Chapter 46 (05:58:15) Chapter 47 (06:05:41) Chapter 48 (06:08:16) Chapter 49 (06:11:08) Chapter 50 (06:14:39) Chapter 51 (06:19:30) Chapter 52 (06:24:25) Chapter 53 (06:30:05) Chapter 54 (06:37:13) Chapter 55 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
Chapter 1
Startling Information
There goes another chief, that makes five so far.
There's surely something going on tonight,
the young man at the window declared excitedly.
It was Patsy Garvin, Nick Carter's second assistant,
and he who was addressed was the great Newark detective himself.
The closest friends would have known neither of them, however,
unless they had been in the secret, for both were cleverly disguised.
However, the room in which they seemed to be so much at home was not one of those in Nick's
handsome Madison Avenue residence in Newark.
It was in fact a room and a house miles away from there to the northward in the Bronx
section of the great city, a short distance from the Newark Zoological Park.
And the first of the month about ten days before our family which went by the name of Webb
had moved in there.
The family consisted of three persons.
The father, Charles Webb, a grown son, William and the latter's young young
wife, Mildred. Such, at least, was the understanding of the neighbours. As a matter of fact, Charles
Webb was Nick Carter. His son was better known as Patsy Gawain, the famous detective's clever
assistant, and Mildred was Adelina Gawain, Patsy's pretty Chilean Spanish wife, whose woman's
intuitions had materially assisted in solving more than one difficult problem in the mathematics
of crime. It was a peculiar case which had brought them to that out-of-the-way neighborhood
and required delicate handling. Their interest lay in the house next to a big
rambling wooden structure which with theirs stood some water apart with vacant lots
all about. The house in question was occupied and had been for years by its owner
Dr. Hiram A. Grantley. Grantley was well known in the Newark Medical Circles. Indeed his fame
was at least 25 years old. He was accounted one of the most skillful surgeons in
the state which necessarily meant in the United States as well.
he had a long list of remarkably daring and successful operations to his credit and might have been one of the wealthiest and most honored men in his profession had it not been for certain unfortunate peculiarities which had grown upon him as the years past
people were afraid of him that was a sum and substance of it it was altogether too daring and ruthless in his methods too ready to operate on the slightest provocation he was never satisfied with the conservative methods of his colleagues but was always seeking new
ways of carving up the human frame. The individual patient meant nothing to him. It was a matter
of supreme indifference to Dr. Hiram, Grantley, whether his cases lived or died so long as they
gave him a chance to test his theories. Of course, he recognized as clearly as anyone that a surgeon's
ultimate success must lie in saving life, not in taking it. That was his skull. But being apparently
heartless and looking upon the individuals who sought a service as much as other surgeons
looked upon guinea pig merely as subjects were experimentation, he usually preferred to try something
new rather than follow a safe and sane procedure which had trueed its worth in hundreds
of thousands of cases. That was the quickest way to advance the science of surgery, according to
Grant Lee, and the result was that, years before, people who knew of his tendencies had ceased,
for the most part, to go to him unless they were in such desperate straits that they were willing
to take a last supreme chance. Consequently, his pretext.
practice had fallen away to a very marked extent, and despite his acknowledged brilliancy and the
many improved methods he had introduced from time to time, he had come to be looked upon
with more or less distressed, even by the members of his own profession. His income had once
been a very large one, however, and when it dwindled, he gave up his house in one of the fashionable
sections of the city and moved to the Bronx, where he turned the house he bought into a sort
of private hospital. His treatment at the hands of the public and his brother surgeons
seemed to aggravate his tendencies rather than curb them, and he became more and more eccentric and
ruthless, a sinister figure in appearance and reputation.
When Nick Carter interested himself in Dr. Grantley, the latter was about 55 years of age.
As a young man, he had had jet black hair and ice.
His hair was now almost white, and it was always brushed straight back from his forehead,
although worn rather long.
His brows were grey and shaggy, and under them gleamed his piercing black eyes.
his forehead was high and denoted great intelligence his nose was thin prominent and curved like the beak of an eagle or the nose of an egyptian mummy he was nearly six-feeved in height
very spared and build and his long sensitive fingers resembled claws at times as occurred out from his pony hands for two or three years grantly had been at odds with the latest owner of the house next to a certain john d wallace
wallace was an intelligent man of means a retired businessman who was an ardent anti-vivisectionist whereas grantly had always been famous or infamous as you please for his experiments on living animals the former had bought a small house next door at a time
time when the surgeon had tried to get hold of it, probably because he did not care for such
near neighbors, unless he could choose them himself. Ever since then, there had been bad blood
between Grantley and Wallace. Wallace had complained of Grantley more than once, alleging that
the doctor's private hospital was a nuisance, and that the howling of his animal subjects
was intolerable. Nothing further had been done about it by Valis, however, and Grantley in
retaliation had made it as uncomfortable as he could for Valis's tenants.
At last, Valis had done some spying on his own account and he had finally come to Nick Carter with a startling theory.
He believed that Dr. Grantley was not only using animals in his experiments in vivisection, but human beings as well, and he offered the detective a tempting fee to look into the matter.
The fee did not hold as much interest to Nick as Valis's story did, for it brought many moralist vague rumors which he had heard.
According to Wallace and others, Dr. Grantley had recently made a surprising move.
Although he was about the last man in the world who would naturally be thought of as a philanthropist,
he had begun to offer his services to the poor of the east side and without charge.
More than that, Wallace claimed to have spent hours in the house he owned, which was vacant at the time,
and had seen several patients enter the private hospital, all of whom seemed to be foreigners
and far from prosperous enough to pay Grantley's regular fees, which had always been
large. Valis also reported that he had reason to believe that bodies were carried away from time
to time under cover of darkness. Finally, he declared that several young men who looked like doctors
frequented the plays, especially at night. From this circumstance, he argued that Grantley
had a following among young and unscrupulous surgeons who came there to witness or take part
in the older man's gruesome experiments. In answer to Nick's inquiries, Valis informed the detective
that Dr. Grantley's regular establishment included Grantley himself, Dr. Sebald, his young assistant,
an nurse of perhaps 35 Miss Rawlinson, and a German man-servant named Hoff. The latter was a doctor's
only servant and apparently did Grantley's cooking. Valis was inclined to think that Hoff had seen
army service. It will readily be seen that the case was no ordinary one. There is no law
which covers the employment of living human beings in such experiments for the simple
reason that until lately there has been no demand for it and no suspicion that the practice
existed anywhere. If a death could be proved to have occurred under such circumstances, however,
and not in the ordinary course of medical or surgical practice, the person responsible could
be arrested and tried for manslaughter, or failing in that, he might be exposed and driven
into retirement if definite proof could be obtained that he used men, women or children
in his ruthless pursuit of forbidden knowledge. The detective saw that John
Wallace was not a visionary crank, but a practical man of affairs was not likely to exaggerate.
Brantley's reputation lent color to the possibility for another thing, and finally the detective
had strong convictions on the subject of vivisection, even as practiced upon animals.
In most cases, he was willing to believe the claims of the vivisectionist that the living animals
which they strapped down and cut open were generally under the influence of some drug.
But to Nick's mind, that did not alter the fact that after the poor creature had been
mutilated in a hundred different ways, they were frequently turned loose, suffering acutely and
with their wounds uncared for. Nick's kind heart led him to abhor such cruelty, especially when it
was indulged in so freely and constantly, that its oft-reated excuses lost most, if not all,
of their original weight. A certain amount of vivisection carried on under proper restrictions may be an
important factor in the advancement of science. The detective was warned to say, I don't say it is,
but it may be. Even so, it should be permitted only in the case of a few men, not indulged in by the wholesale in every medical school.
It may be imagined, therefore, that he was more than interested when it was hinted to him that Dr. Hiram-Grantley had gone farther than anyone else was known to have dared to go,
and had extended his experiments to the defenceless and ignorant poor of the east side.
Nick hoped that Valis was wrong, but he did the mind to find out for himself as soon as possible and made his plans accordingly.
The end of Chapter 1
Chapter 2 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Libri-Works recording is in the public domain read by Yoga Anandha.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 2
The bomb ruse
At Valis's suggestion the detective promised to occupy the empty house
next door to Grantley's under an assumed name, moving in openly as an ordinary tenant
would do. The plan was carried out with the comparatively little delay and Patsy was chosen
because he was married and could bring his wife along to give an air of domesticity to the
establishment. The Webs had moored in ten days before, their furniture having been carefully
selected in different second-end stores of the better class. Charles Webb, the father, went down
every day but it was understood in the neighbourhood that Will was temporarily out of work.
That explained why he remained at home all day.
A close but secret watch had been kept on the doctor's house,
and its regular occupants had been studied as thoroughly as possible under the circumstances.
Dr. Seabolt, Grantley's assistant, had proved to be a man in his early thirties,
evidently of German descent,
whose keen, searching eyes seemed to belie his too agreeable expression and his swalled manners.
Kate Rawlinson, the nurse, seemed to be thoroughly efficient,
as she must have been to please Dr. Grant's.
But a face, which was rather good-looking, in a pinched, tight-lipped way, had a hard,
forbidding expression which warned one not look to her for much human sympathy to say the least.
As for Hoff, the German servant, Nick found it easy to agree with Valis that he had been a soldier.
He was fully six feet in height, powerfully built with a scarred face, keen blue eyes and a sandy moustache,
the points of which were trained rackishly upward after the model of his emperors.
of the Lord, he was the only one who seemed likely to give much trouble in a physical encounter
if it came to that.
Seabald was slight and wore glasses, and Dr. Grantley himself, while undoubtedly strong and wiery,
did not impress one as a fighting man.
That remained to be seen, however.
It was Hoff, who always answered the doe, and he did it with an air of suspicion and a brusqueness
which suggested a sentry on duty.
Little real progress had been made by the detectives, despite their vigilance.
They had discovered that Valis was correct in saying that patients, who seemed to be in humble circumstances,
were frequently brought to Dr. Grantley's or came of their own accord,
and they had verified Valis's report that several young men, obviously doctors, frequented the place,
but that had only been ascertained after a tedious wait.
For the first few days after the Webs moved in, there appeared to be little activity next to,
probably because Dr. Grantley was more or less suspicious in a gentle way of the newcomers,
whose presence he doubtless resented.
He would naturally have waited to see if they were going to show any embarrassing interest in his doings.
Their apparent inclination to attend strictly to their own affairs, however, seemed to reassure him.
Shrewd as he was, he did not dream of the watch which was being maintained day and night over his house.
Presently his attitude of caution relaxed, and things went on as they had been going.
Nevertheless, with all the advantages, Nick and his assistant were not in a position to draw any very definitely
conclusion for some time. And in the end, they were little the wiser. They decided that they
would have to resort to some more active method of getting the evidence they desired. Many different
plans were discussed and rejected. In the meantime, two of Nick's other assistants, well-discised,
were sent to the doctor's house on different plausible errands, but they did not succeed in
penetrating it far enough to learn anything of value. Furthermore, although the windows of the web house
were left open night and day, no sound suggestive of torture were heard, and whatever very
went on in the private hospital must have been well-cloked and unaccompanied by any excitement.
Nick and Patsy finally determined upon a ruse. They had learned enough to know that the house
was carefully guarded by the watchful half, who prowled around at all us. Besides, they wished
to gain access to it when the young doctors were there, for it was reasonable to suppose
that at such times the most important experiments took place whatever their nature might be.
But with five or six extra men in the house, in addition to its regular occupants, the chance
for secret entrance were decidedly slim to say nothing of the likelihood that the investigators
could get into position to witness the proceedings.
Therefore, it seemed necessary to wait until the occasion seemed as promising as possible
and then to force an entrance under cover of some exciting diversion, which could be counted
upon to draw away temporarily the attention of Grantley and his chosen disciples.
It meant a dangerous plunge, for if it failed to uncover the desired evidence, for any reason,
it would unavoidably reveal to Dr. Grantley the fact that he was under suspicion.
He would be put on his card in that case, and it would be far more difficult thereafter to trip him up,
even if he was north of the sort to put up a fight or attempt to retaliate.
Not only that, but there was little likelihood that such a device would catch the man and his associates in the midst of a punishable crime.
Time was passing, however, and the detective felt it necessary to push matters.
His attention was needed elsewhere, and he made up his mind that if he could expose
Grantley's methods and show that the eccentric surgeon was actually engaged in unwarranted
experiments on his poor and obscure patients, public opinion would do the rest and drive the
doctor out of the country, or at least force him to give up his questionable practices.
The newspapers could be counted on to make the most of the sensation, and it would almost
certainly result in the passing of stringent loss against human vivisection, as well as
the unauthorized administration of various experimental sedums in the case of unsuspecting persons,
especially children, of which there had recently been many instances in Newark.
That would be a great step in advance, and it would make possible grandly subsequent conviction
if legal proof could be obtained in regard to his past performances, or if he should
ever resume such practices in the state at some future time. Half of loaf was better than no bread.
That was the way Nick looked at it. Thus far, he had tried.
tried in vain, by means of numerous inquiries on the east side and elsewhere to find a single
instance of a suspicious death and a Grantley's care.
He had little doubt that there were plenty of cases of that sort, but he had not happened
to come across them and his time was precious.
Finally, he planned to explore a large bomb in front of his house by means of an electrical
connection.
The bomb was to be placed in the middle of the street, which was not extensively used at any time,
and Nick counted on the deafening noise of the explosion to draw the occupants of Grantley's
house into the street, or at any rate, away from the operating room. While they were temporarily
absent, Nick and Patsy were to break into the doctor's house at the rear and make the way
as rapidly as possible to the operating room, the location of which they had roughly determined
by a process of elimination. They intended to take with them an expert witness in the person of
Dr. Willie Cook, a friend of Nix, and one of the ablest of the city's younger surgeons,
who was noted for his opposition to vivisection in almost all of its forms. In addition to
to this qualification, Dr. Cook was a strapping fellow, an athlete, and a champion
trap-shooter who could be depended upon to give a good account of himself if it came to a fight.
Dr. Cook's presence would be important because he could determine at a glance the nature
of the experiment in progress, whether a legitimate or otherwise, and his testimony would be
taken by the public as authoritative, where Nix, not being that of a specialist, might be open
to question. On the night in question, when Patsy made the observation recorded at the beginning
of the first chapter, the young surgeon was in the room with the detective and the latter's assistant.
He had arrived unapprovedively at the webhouse sometime before, having been summoned by Nick
when it became clear that something out of the ordinary was about to take place at the private
hospital next door. A young girl of 18 or thereabouts, evidently a jewess, had been brought
there in a taxi by Dr. Sebal that afternoon. She was noticeably pretty and seemed to be in
ill health, although she had alighted from the machine without assistance.
Patsy had witnessed an arrival and had reported the circumstance to Nick when the latter put in an appearance about 5.30.
It looked as if interesting developments might be looked for that night, and as the bomb was all in readiness to be planted, Nick decided to telephone for Dr. Cook.
By half past eight, five men had arrived and been admitted by the watchful Hoff.
The detectives had, of course, no means of knowing that the pretty Jewish was to be the subject of the night's experiments, but it seemed probable.
In any event, there was something of more than ordinary interest scheduled.
Nick waited until 9 o'clock to see if any others would arrive.
One did about a quarter of nine.
He was obviously in a hurry which indicated that he was late.
When another 15 minutes passed without incident, Nick inferred that no others were coming.
He decided to delay still longer, though, for he wished to give grantly time to get to work.
The delay might mean a great deal to the victim of the vivisectionist, but that unfortunately could not be helped.
it would do no good to break in prematurely, for unless an operation of some questionable kind was in progress when the interruption came, nothing would be gained, and Dr. Grantley would be justified in taking legal action against the intruders.
But when 915 came, the tender-hearted detective could stand the suspense no longer.
Heaven knows what may be happening to that poor girl or someone else, he exclaimed, see if the cost is clear patsy.
The street was deserted, and Nix assistant slipped out and placed the bomb at a sufficient.
distance from the two horses to prevent any material damage.
A small electric wire was attached to it in such a way that the explosion would free it
and allow it to be drawn quickly into the house as soon as it had done its work.
Nick and Patsy were armed, although they did not look for any resistance of the kind
in which they would be gunplay and the detective had supplied Dr. Cook with an automatic.
They would be greatly outnumbered, of course, if Grantley and the others returned to the
operating room and found them there, which they fully expected.
Therefore, it was well to be on the safe side, despite the fact that they did not look for weapons in the hands of any of the surgeons.
Patsy's wife was instructed to rush out of the house immediately after the explosion, to pretend to be greatly mystified and terrorized, and to say that her husband and father-in-law were both downtown.
In that way, it was hoped that any suspicions currently might have would be nipped in the bud for the time being and that pretty Mrs. Webb's distress would delay the return of the doctors to the house.
The electric wire was a long one extending from the bomb in the street through one of the open front windows and saw to a concealed battery.
Nick and his two companions took their places in the backyard, under cover of the fence separating Grantley's house from theirs.
Nick and Patsy carried burglar's tools so as to be ready for a quick entry.
The seconds dragged by.
Poo!
An ear-splitting report rent the air.
Adelina had fired the bomb and was doubtless, drawing in the wire,
preparatory to running out and playing the other parts assigned to her.
Without a second's delay, the two detectors swarmed over the fence
and ran silently toward the rear of the private hospital
with Dr. Cook close at their heels.
The end of chapter two.
Chapter 3 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 3.
An appalling sight.
They heard a commotion in Grantley's house and the scuffling of many feet as they ran across the yard.
Evidently the occupants were scurrying to the front to see what had happened.
The ruse seemed to have worked so far.
It remained to be seen how successfully the rest would turn out.
Nick and his companions were already undercover back of the doctor's house before anyone emerged at the front.
They found the rear door locked and left it alone after giving the knob one quick wrench.
The nearest windows were all fastened, but Nick's chimmy was put to use at once.
and in half a minute a sharp click told that the carriage had given way.
The window was pried up swiftly but silently and the detective slipped in,
his example being imitated at once by the others.
They found themselves in a large kitchen which was brightly lighted
and which gave evidence that Hoff had been there very recently,
probably at the time of the explosion,
for there was a dishpan in the sink and the dishes in the draining rack alongside.
In their previous study of the windows,
they had learned that there was a rare stairway,
for they had often seen Hoff passing a small window as he went up and down.
They had reason to believe that the operating room was in the second floor,
somewhere in the centre of the house,
and they meant to reach it, if possible, by way of the rare stairs.
In fact, that was their only hope of doing so unobserved,
since they could not count on the bomb having emptied the house completely.
The door from the kitchen into the lower hall had been left open,
and Nick and his friends touched through it.
Fortunately, the hall contained a turn,
which shut them off from observation on the power,
of those on the front of the stairs and at the door.
They heard hurried footsteps descending the other stairs, however,
and concluded that several persons were clustered about the front door.
The rear stairway was easily located,
and they started upward with as much care as their desire for haste permitted.
It was no part of their plan to leave the house again without being seen.
They knew that was practically out of the question.
However, they wished to see as much as they could before they were discovered
and were naturally anxious to find something that would justify
the intrusion before Dr. Grantley became aware of their presence.
But luck was against them.
When they reached the head of the servant's stairs,
they saw the open door of an unusually brightly lighted room about 15 feet ahead of them.
The detective instantly came to the conclusion that they had found the room they sought
for the brilliancy of the light told them that a big arc lamp
or other illuminating device of similar power must be in use.
As he started toward the door, however, he became aware for the first time
that there was a figure standing at the dimmer light of the hall,
beyond the operating room, probably at the head of the first flight at the front.
More than that, the figure's posture was tense, listening one,
and a white face was turned over its shoulder.
The form was that of a woman in a nurse's carp.
Undoubtedly, their presence had been detected by Miss Rawlinson,
who had evidently not seemed fit to descend the stairs with the rest,
but was waiting for their report as to the cause of the explosion.
When Nick first caught sight of her,
she had seemed to be held spelled on by this unlooked-for invasion from the rear.
But in a moment she recovered a self-possession.
Help! Dr. Grantley, quick!
She called on the front stairs in a high, shrill voice.
There are men in the house. It's a trick.
And as soon as she had streaked a warning,
instead of running to meet her friends,
she turned and came flying along the hall toward the detectives.
Nick had thrown all caution to the wince
as soon as he saw her looking at him.
With a low-toned command to the others to follow him,
leap forward, and when the nurse started back to meet him, or more likely with the idea of keeping him out of the operating room if she could, he had almost reached the brightly lighted doorway.
Stop!
What are you doing here?
The woman demanded harshly.
You must not do!
But although the detective heard a clamour of alarm downstairs and the sounds of running feet, he ignored the nurse and sprang into the room.
Patsy entered a moment or two later, but Dr. Cook, who had brought up the rear, was intercepted by the nurse, who fearlessly grabbed him and sought to hold him back, calling while while.
to employer and the others to hurry.
It went against the grain,
but the young surgeon, knowing that every second was precious,
kept on his way after a momentary pause.
He did not lay a finger upon the nurse.
He simply dragged up with him,
despite all of his struggles to hold him back,
as a football player drags the opponents who are trying to down him.
Thus, the three gained access to the room
before any of the men reached the head of the stairs.
The sight that met their gaze was an appalling one,
and their hearts contracted with horror and pity.
A girl, plainly the same one whom Patsy had seen arriving that afternoon,
lay on an operating table in the full glare of a large arc lamp,
which was shaded in such a way as to throw all of its rays downward with pitiless intensity.
At first glance, she appeared to be lifeless,
but she was doubtless merely under the influence of some anesthetic.
In fact, there was the best reason in the world for thinking that she was alive.
A heart was in full view, its rhythmic contractions being revealed in the most ghastly way.
The lower part of her body was covered with the sheet, but the upper part was bare, and a great hole had been cut in the wall of her chest, through which her beating art had been lifted out.
Something had been inserted beneath the heart after it had been raised through the incision, with the result that the naked argon, red and pulsating, stood out in startling relief against the whiteness of her body.
Good lord! exclaimed the detective reverently, as he got his first reoffered.
The fiends!
Patsy, used as he was to see it.
scenes of crime and bloodshed actually shrank back a little as his eyes fell upon the horrible spectacle,
and even Dr. Cook was visibly affected when he staggered in, with the nurse clinging desperately to him.
Nick and Patsy made way for him without attempting to draw nearer to the table.
They had seen all they could endure for the moment, and were elderly waiting for the advent of the surgeons.
Willis Cook kept on to the unconscious girl's side, however, without paying any more attention to the nurse than if she had been a puppy tugging at his trousers' leg.
He bent over the still mutilated form, scrutinized the exposed heart for a moment,
and then took in the thinness of the arms, the prominence of the ribs in the slightly emaciated body,
and the rather sunken cheeks, in which faint spots of unnatural colour still lingered despite the pallor,
due to the drug and the operation.
Suddenly he raised his head and turned to Nick.
His jaw was suggestively prominent, and there was a steely glitter in his eyes
which poured no good to Dr. Hiram Grantley and the latter's associates.
There's absolutely no excuse for this, he said quickly, as if conscious that those responsible for the girl's condition were elderly at the door.
A heart is perfectly healthy.
She has tuberculosis.
That's the way Grantley got his hands on her.
I suppose he promised to cure, but he had no time to finish a sentence.
At that moment, Dr. Grantley himself, clothed in white from head to foot, burst into the room,
a malignant snarl on a strongly marked sinister face.
And after him came Dr. Sebalt, and after him came Dr. Sebalt, and he was a man.
the six visiting surgeons. What's a meaning of this? Hald Grantly. Who are you? And what are the
thunder are you doing in my house? Curse here. And with that, he chucked out one of the drawers
of a desk which stood beside the door and took out a couple of revolvers, one of which he started
to pass to his assistant. The end of chapter three. Chapter 4 of the stolen brain
by Nicholas Carter. This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain. Read by
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 4
Nick stirs up the animals
Nick Patsy and Dr. Cook
had concealed the weapons in order
not to provoke trouble unnecessarily.
At this moment Grantley's part, however,
Nick whipped out his automatic and covered the surgeon.
None of that, my man, he commanded,
we're all armed.
The sharply spoken words and the steady muscles
of the three automatics,
for Nick's companions had followed suit immediately,
froze Dr. Grantley into inaction for a moment.
One hand was still extended toward Dr. Seibold, but it had been arrested in mid-air,
and the younger surgeon made no attempt to take the weapon.
All eyes were fixed upon Nick Carter, save those of his own companions.
I don't care of whoop, whether you're armed or not, Grantley snalled,
but he made no further attempt at aggression.
As a matter of fact, he lowered his extended arm.
You can't bluff me like that, he went on.
What do you want here anyway?
He was trying his best to bluff it out, but it was obvious that he was not
finding it an easy matter. Suddenly, his eyes shifted to Dr. Cook, and he gave a start of
recognition. At the same time, a still most frightened look came into his eyes. So that's it,
is it? he growled. You are behind this, you young whippersnapper. I'm not behind it,
Cook corrected. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure, but as it happens, I was merely
asked to come along in order to give a surgeon's opinion of your scientific orgies.
I've seen all that is necessary.
There's nothing the matter with your victim's heart, nothing whatever.
You had absolutely no excuse either from the standpoint of surgery or humanity
for performing any sort of an operation upon it,
least of all to drag it out of this poor child's body and make a show of it.
Her lungs and more or less affected.
That's all, and it was doubtless to the excuse of treating her for tuberculosis
that you got her in your power.
If I had not seen with my own eyes, Dr. Grantley,
I would not have believed it possible that any doctor could be guilty
of such a fiendish misuse of professional privileges.
What did you expect to find that you did not already know?
And if these satellites of yours were so ignorant of heart action,
which I am not prepared to believe even of them,
why could you not enlighten them just as well with a dog or a cat or a guinea pig?
Dr. Cook's fiery earnestness and withering scorn were good to see.
But Grantley's attitude remained one of sullen defiance.
None of your business, he retorted angrily.
I refuse to answer to my infidious for anything.
I do. What's more. I'm beyond the reach of the law, and you know it. I'm searching for something
of which you and your kind have never dreamed, and if I choose to use a piece of worthless human
flesh doomed already by disease, it's no affair for yours or the vials. Don't be too sure of that,
Nick spoke up. By the way, permit me to introduce myself. I'm Nick Carter, the detective,
of whom you may possibly have heard, and this is one of my assistants. We have been living next door to you
for a short time, but quite long enough to become convinced that there was something radically
wrong here.
Dr. Grantley paled at the mention of Nick's name, and a perceptible tremor of surprise and
fear passed over the group of doctors behind him.
Seeing this, Dr. Cook broke in grimly.
And while we are aborted, Mr. Carter, I might as well make known to you a couple of
Grantley's hangers on there.
I know two of them well by sight.
The one with the moustache is Dr. Hunter, and the one with reddish hair is Dr. Willard.
I can furnish you with their addresses.
if you wish. The two men named
cringed before Dr. Cook's accusing
finger. Thank you, Cook.
That'll help, Nick replied
quietly. And now, gentlemen,
I'm afraid I shall have to give you another jolt.
I'm a special officer, and I'm quite within my
rights in arresting you all for malpractice,
which I intend to do forthwith.
The nurse here will be detained as a material
witness. I'd like to see you try it,
strong grantly. Such a charge is ridiculous.
I can take the position that
displacement of the heart was only incidental that I was really trying to find a surgical
method of dealing with tuberculosis. Nobody could prove that I wasn't, and I can get any number
of expert witnesses to testify in my behalf, or at least to admit that I might have been looking
for what I claimed. You wouldn't have a leg to stand on. I tell you, there is no law that can
touch me. Perhaps not, admitted the detective. That is comparatively unimportant, however. Unimportant?
How the devil do you make that out? The charge of malpractice is,
is a good enough excuse for your arrest.
After that, the newspapers will try the case before a jury of millions.
And when they finish, the argument for the prosecution, Dr. Grantley quailed.
You mean, he began in an unsteady voice.
I mean that public opinion is going to be given an opportunity to try and condemn you Grantley?
Nick answered evenly.
I know as well as you do that you are in very little danger of a prison sentence, as things are now.
But the greatest punishment of all is available.
The universal execration of your fellow men, that's going to be meted out to you and your accomplices.
And the result of your showing up will be that loss will be speedily passed to cover such revolting crimes as this.
In short, we are going to break you grandly.
You have no one but yourself to blame.
And you will deserve all you get.
Incidentally, I might add that I am ransacking the east side for other evidence against you
in connection with previous offenses of this sort,
which I have reason to believe have ended fatally for.
your victims. The charge I shall make against you tonight will serve to hold you until one
of manslaughter can be sustained. Patsy Garvin looked at his chief in surprise. It was decidedly
unlike Nick to bandy words in this way, or to rub it in either before or after arrest. In the present
instance, moreover, his assistant feared that he was making trouble for himself and his companions.
He was giving away his end in a peculiarly reckless fashion, and it was more than possible that
Brantley and the others, seeing the pit that yawned for them might be driven to desperate measures in their desire to escape arrest.
As a matter of fact, that was precisely what Nick desired.
He knew only too well that he was treating in the midst of uncertainties,
and that his case was lamentably weak from a strictly legal standpoint.
Consequently, he hoped to provoke resistance because he could count on that to strengthen the sentiment against Grantley and the latter's followers.
He did not look, though, for anything like the odd-bird.
that followed. The end of chapter 4. Chapter 5 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter. This
Libby-Wox recording is in the public domain. Read by Yoganand. The Stolen Brain, Chapter 5.
Let go, or I'll fire. Without warning, Dr. Grantley clubbed his weapon and threw himself at Nick Carter.
Taking the cue from him, Sebald and the others sprang forward almost simultaneously. Brantley,
Brantley was shrewd enough to know that the detectives would not fire upon them if it could possibly be avoided,
and furthermore that they would be greatly handicapped by their concern for the safety of the unconscious skull.
That was true, for a rough and tumble fight there in the operating room would be very dangerous for her,
for if the table were overturned or she was swept from it in the milly,
the chances were that her exposed heart would be fatally injured.
Nick and his allies did not forget this for a moment,
and when they saw the threatening move of the enemies they rushed forward to meet them in an effort to carry the fight as far from the operating table as they could.
They reversed their own weapons as they did so, but their little automatics were much lighter than the larger revolver which Grantley had snatched out of the draw.
Moreover, Dr. Sebald had possessed himself of its mate which Grantley had dropped when the charge began.
The others were without firearms, but caught chairs and whatever else they could lay hands on.
The opposing forces met about in the center of the space between the operating table and the door,
while the nurse, ignored by both sides, shrank back against the wall beyond the ghastly form on the table.
Nick had fully realized the odds that would be against them in the event of a clash.
He had assumed, however, as he was not dealing with ordinary criminals,
but with men who would probably be unarmed and would have much to lose by an ill-advised attempted resistance,
that three well-armed and determined men could bluff nine into submission.
They'd failed in that, and the odds were three to one, for Hoff had arrived a little after the others, armed with a big army revolver.
When the attack began, Hoff forced to the front, pushing the young surgeons to left and right.
As a result, he, Dr. Grantley, and the latter's assistant, all armed were directly opposed to Nick, Patsy and Dr. Cook,
while the six young surgeons taking advantage of the situation, wormed their way past one by one and got in the rear of the invading trial.
Things began to look far from promising.
Hoff was bigger than any of those on the other side,
and he advanced to the fray with a bellow which suggested that he felt himself in his element.
Dr. Grantley was transformed.
His face was distorted with murderous hate,
and there was a tigrish quickness about his movements,
which was unexpected in a man of his age in occupation.
Even Dr. Seabal proved to be a surprise.
His agility and reckless ferocity made up for any physical deficiencies,
and he fought with a whole art of devotion that was worthy of a better cause.
Desperation nerve them all, in fact, to a degree which would have been impossible under other circumstances.
Their resistance was utterly unreasonable since they could hope to gain no real a permanent immunity,
no matter how completely they might defeat the three who had been the fruits of their detestable experiments.
They could not hope to stop their mouths for good without actually killing them all,
and that way led straight to the electric chair.
Nevertheless, their fears urged them on and it looked as if nothing short of murder would satisfy them.
The fight was hot, bitter and merciless.
The detectives and Dr. Cook acted upon the defensive as much as they could at first
and pressed the others back toward the door into the hall.
They wished to get out of the room if it was possible before showing what they could really do.
Naturally, their three principal adversaries did their best to prevent this, and for two reasons.
One was that Cranthley and his lieutenant's wished to block the way toward the open.
air, although they might have known that the detectives had no thought of retreat, and the other
was that they were bent upon keeping Nix's men as close to the operating table as might be,
and thus limiting their activities.
Without the opposition of Hoff, there would have been comparatively little difficulty about
gaining the hall, but the German's bulk and weight formed an effectual barrier.
Grantley and Seabald were driven back against him again and again, but they seemed
to rebound from his great frame and to fling themselves upon the detectives once more
with renewed fury. Blows fell thick and fast, revolved were butts met and struck sparks as
they ground together in mid-air, and often they fell with dull, bruising touch on the flesh of one
another of the combatants, or drew blood from glancing blows on scalps or cheeks. For some time,
however, no one was knocked unconscious. The blows were too well-parried on both sides, for the
most part, to bring that about. But the conflict could not go on in that way forever. Dr. Cook was a
first to go under. He was pressing his advantage over Seabold at the time, forgetful of all else,
and was just about to deliver a blow which would have ended Grantley's assistant for some time to come,
but just then, Hoff, seeing his chance, brought down the butt of his heavy revolver with crushing force
on Cook's head. The young surgeon fell like a stricken ox, and howls of delight went up from
his enemies. Nick, who had not yet succeeded in beating down Grantley's guard, owing to the
confusing attacks from the rear, saw red when he saw his professional ally fall.
He ducked suddenly, got under Grant's cord and pushed his opponent violently backward against
the German. The impact took Hoff unawares and caused him to stagger back. In a moment,
Nick was at him. The detectors clubbed automatic, whistle passed Grantley's head and caught
Hoff fairly on the center of the forehead. The weapon was slight, but the train muscles behind
it more than made up for that. The German caved in at the knees and toppled over
backward through the doorway. He blindly grasped Dr. Grantley as the blow fell and he dragged
his employer with him. Quick to see his advantage, Nick sprang after them determined to put
Grantley out of commission as well. Seabal managed to trip him, however, and at the same time,
one of the other doctors brought a chair down on the back of his head. The blow might easily
have been fatal had Nick been standing erect at the time, but he had already started to pitch
forward thanks to Seabal's trick. In spite of that, the whirling chair, which was heavy one,
knocked the detective senseless and he fell at dead weight upon Grantley and Hoff. The latter was
unconscious, but Grantley had been frantically trying to wriggle out of Hoff's arms when Nick landed
on him. Immediately, he turned his attention to the detective and from underneath, clamped his
long, bony fingers about the helpless detective's neck and began choking the life out of him.
Pat Zyghaven was now the only representative of his side, who was still on his feet, and no less than seven enemies ringed him around.
His keen eyes detected his chief's danger, however, and he started to Nick's aid at once.
He never knew how he escaped the clutches of his opponents, or kept in the game under the rain of their blows.
Nevertheless, he did so, and he not only did that, but also succeeded in diving forward until he was crouching over the pile of prostrate forms in the doorway.
No, you don't, he ejaculated, bending over and poking the muzzle of his automatic under Nick and into Grantley's side.
Let go. Oral Fire.
The end of chapter 5.
Chapter 6 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain.
Chapter 6.
A flank movement.
Nick's assistant did not need to be told.
that his own position was a decidedly uninveable one, despite the momentary advantage he had gained
over Dr. Grantley. Patsy's back was turned to his seven-force, all of whom were bent upon
getting him in almost any way they could. They did not seem disposed to shoot, and that
was the only comforting fact that stood out. The young detective's threat to fire into
Grantley's body, if the vivisectionist did not relinquish his hold on Nick's throat, took the old
surgeon's friends by surprise and flabbergasted them for a few seconds. One of the first
them had already pounced upon Patsy's back and was leaning forward, ready to strike Patsy on the back
of the head with a heavy paperweight which he had snatched up from the nearby desk. He paused,
however, as did the others. Patsy lost no time in taking advantage of the fact. He squamed out from
under the man, leaving his coat in his enemy's hands, and scrambled over the heap of bodies
in the doorway. Before the others realized what he was about, he was in the hole facing them.
He had removed his automatic from Grantley's ribs while he changed position.
but now he thrust it back again.
Did you hear me down there?
He demanded.
Simultaneously he produced another weapon with his left hand,
tucked that in turn into Grantley's side,
and lifting the muscle of the first automatic,
trained it on the foremost of his force.
He had made a decided change for the better,
for he was now in the hall with his opponents
all in front of him in plain sight
and the length of the three bodies between him and them.
Keep back there, he commanded,
waving his upraised weapon a little
and covering one after another
of the crouching surgeons.
I'm just getting warmed up,
and I wouldn't advise you to make any false nose
unless you want to kiss yourselves goodbye.
Grantley had relaxed a throttling hold on Nick's windpipe
at Patsy's first thread that had taken a new and more dogged grip
while Nick's assistant was so unceremoniously making his way
over the detective's unconscious form
and incidentally squeezing the breath out of Grantley himself
was beneath.
When the muzzle of the automatic prodded him again,
however, he let go a second
time and lay quite still, contending himself with cursing Patsy under his breath and calling
on his own followers to rescue him. It looked as if Patsy had turned the tables about as
completely as possible. If the seven, or any of them tried to rush him, there was little doubt that
he would make good as threat and shoot their leader, which he could easily do before any of them
could reach him. And even aside from that, such an attack could hardly be successful in itself
if the young detective was an earnest about firing into the crowd of the first sign of hostile action.
The nearest of them, Dr. Seabal, was nearly six feet away beyond the narrow body-choked doorway.
Patsy's quick-firing automatic would probably speak twice before that space could be covered,
especially as the three prostate forms which occupied most of the distance would make the going very precarious.
Seabal was armed to be sure.
But Patsy's keen eyes were watching his every movement with links like intentness,
and it would have been folly to suppose that Grantley's assistant could get the drop before such an experienced man-hunter.
Still, the situation was trying enough for Patsy, and it demanded so much concentration that it could not be expected to remain unchanged for long.
Nick's assistant was beginning to wonder when help would come, if at all.
Neither he nor Nick had found opportunity as yet to whistle for the police.
They had been kept too busy ever since the need had arisen so suddenly, and now it was out of the question.
Even if Patsy had dared to withdraw either weapon in order to use his police whistle,
which would have been a risky experiment as things were,
the move would have been fruitless, for the whistle was reposing in one of the pockets of the court
which he had shed when he broke away.
There was Adelina, however, there was a telephone on the next house,
and it seemed more than likely that his wife had grown somewhat alarmed before that,
over their long absence, had a telephone for the blue courts.
Besides, it seemed probable that she had heard the sounds of strife,
knew that her friends were meeting with vigorous resistance.
Patsy hoped that she had taken some such action,
but he had good reason to know that the station houses are a considerable distance apart in that section of the Bronx,
and policemen not so numerous as they might be.
That being so, assistance might easily fail to arrive in time to save them from more or less ignominious defeat, if nothing worse.
Patsy was not so much preoccupied, though,
that he neglected to offer up a brief prayer or something very like one,
that Adelaidea might not feel called upon to take a hand herself.
There was nothing she could do,
and he did not wish to have her expose herself to unnecessary danger.
The crisis came unexpectedly, but in a manner so simple
that Nick's assistant mentally kicked himself and not foreseeing it.
Dr. Seabald suddenly gave a leap not toward Patsy, but to one side.
The act took him out of sight in a moment,
so far as the young detective's range of vision was concerned,
as he looked in through the door of the operating room.
follow me Chester he called and you Graves
we'll show this fellow a trick or two in half a minute
two of the other doctors instantly followed this example
knowing that a step or two would put them in safety
in a flash Patsy guessed what the move meant
almost immediately the sound of an opening door confirmed his suspicions
he had been too busy while in the operating room
to notice whether there were any other doors opening in it
aside from the one which communicated with the hall
it was evident now however that there was at least
to one other between the operating room and the next one to the rear.
Seabold meant to reach the hole by that road and take Patsy in the rear.
The young Irish man would soon be between two fires
and still there was no sign of the police.
The end of chapter 6.
Chapter 7 of The Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby Box recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yorghanand
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 7
Prisoners
Patsy presently heard a door open into the hall from one of the other rooms and Dr. Sebalt's voice came to him again, this time from behind and to one side.
Now we have got him where we want him, it said triumphantly.
The young detective did not dare turn his head as he heard footsteps approaching along the hall,
for there were still four men in front of him in the operating room, and they were waiting to take advantage of the slightest inattention on his part.
All he could do was to withdraw one of his weapons from Grantley's side and pointed at them
when he swung the other around so that it pointed along the hole in the direction of Seabald and the others.
He could not aim it, except by year, but it might have a death-wring effort,
and if it became necessary to fire it, the shot might take effect by accident.
I wouldn't be too sure of myself if I were used Seabold.
He called, without turning his head.
He put as much confidence into the reply as he could.
But he felt little, for he knew that Grantley's assistant could fire at him if he wished,
without giving him the slightest warning.
It all depended on Seabolt's willingness to go that far and his ability to hit his mark at the first shot.
Shoot him down, you fools!
screamed Grantley, who had been emboldened by the removal of the muscle from his reps.
And a couple of you go next door and get the woman.
Go the back way.
The street is probably full of gaping idiots drawn by the explosion.
Don't let them see you.
The young detective's heart sank at the words.
Adelinea was in danger, and he could do nothing to help her.
In a rage, he kicked Grantley in the head and had the satisfaction of hearing a shuddering sigh at his feet.
He could not look down, but he felt sure that Grantley was unconscious.
The kick had been a powerful one.
The Vivi section, his brutal advice had its effect, however, and spurred on his reluctant followers.
One of those in the operating room leaped aside and made for the door,
and Seabald sent one of the two who had accused.
accompanied him to join the first and carry out Grantley's instructions.
The die was cast.
Patchy's enemies ceased to hang back and content themselves with halfway measures.
Their fears were forgotten, and although most of them probably did not know what was to come of it,
their leader's words inflamed them.
Almost immediately a shot rang out in the narrow hall.
Seabald had fired at Nick's assistant.
The latter stiffened expectantly involuntarily, but the bullets sank past his head and was embedded in the wall beyond.
Sebald had missed.
The weapon in Patsy's right hand answered at once, and although it was impossible for its
owner to see what success it had, he heard a startled, agonized exclamation followed by a fall.
He could not be sure of the voice, but he had an unwelcome feeling that it was not Seabold
he had hit but his sole remaining companion.
If that was a case, luck was certainly against him, for Seabold was the only one remaining
who had a revolver.
But if Grantley's assistant was still on his suite, which later proved to be the case,
he had no time to fire again, for one of the three men still in the operating room relieved him of the responsibility.
It was Dr. Willard, the man with a reddish hair, who was one of the two, whom Cook had pointed out to Nick.
Just after Patsy had fired at random, and while he was listening for the effect of his shot,
Will had swung a lot of the heavy chair across the back of which he had been leaning,
and let it fly straight at Patsy's head.
By some strange freak of chance
It cleared the narrow doorway
And struck its mark
Fairly and squirely in the chest
Patsy had seen it coming
But the distance between him and Willard
Had been too short to allow him to dodge
Even if he had wished to abandon his vantage point
In front of the door
He counted on it striking the door jam
And by the time it huddled through the opening
Without touching the side
It was too late to guard himself
Both of his weapons went off
As a chair struck him
Owing to the unconscious tightening
of his fingers and the triggers, but the shots went wild.
The impact was a vicious one.
It knocked the breath completely out of the young detective's body
and flung him violently against the wall of the passage behind him.
Before he could begin to recover himself,
half a dozen hands were laid upon him at once,
and he was born to the floor.
Such resistance as he was able to make was quickly overcome,
and he was bound and gagged.
It was a bitter dose, but Patsy took it philosophically,
An example of the uncertain fortunes of the business which he followed.
It was characteristic of him that he gave little thought to the plight of himself and his companions,
no to the peril of Adelina, and most to the condition of the unfortunate girl whom they had attempted in vain to rescue.
The worst of it was that she would doubtless soon be coming out from under the influence of the anesthetic
and the agony and unimaginable shock of a condition might easily prove fatal.
Surely though, his wife had sent for the police by that time,
and they would arrive soon.
If they did, the first thing to be done
would be to give the girl more ether
and then rush her to a hospital.
That was more important even than the capture of those
who had cut into her so mercilessly,
but help seemed as far away as ever.
There was a hasty consultation in which Dr. Seabald took a leading part
and then Patsy was blindfolded and dragged away
after being whirled around several times
in order to confuse him and cause him to lose a sense of direction.
Nick, who was exhibiting faint signs of returning consciousness, and Dr. Cook, who are still dead to the world, were similarly treated.
Patsy tried to keep track of his surroundings, but failed.
He only knew that he was roughly dragged along the hole, in which direction he could not tell,
hustled through no less than three doors, and then, after some heavy furniture had been moved,
apparently to uncover a trapdoor, was yanked up and down on a rope.
When his captors got through with him, he could not have told to,
save his life, whether he was on the same floor as the operating room, the one above, or the
one below it, that as from anything which is confusing root, had told him.
And the only reason he was inclined to believe that he was in the cellar was that the air
had a musty subterranean smell.
Two other prisoners, Nick and the young surgeon, beyond a doubt, were soon dumped in on top
of him.
Evidently their prison was very small and the closeness of the air suggested that it had long
been closed up. Perhaps ten minutes later a fourth prisoner was unceremoniously added to the growing
heap, but the additional weight was not great. Patsy's instincts told him that Adelina was probably
the last arrival. He thought gave him a sickening sensation. If his young wife had been seized,
no one was left on the outside with anything like a definite knowledge of their whereabouts.
To be sure, Nick's other assistants knew the situation in a general way, but they were not
aware that an attempt to force Dr. Grantley's hand was to have been made that night.
Nick had not been sure that he would act until the last moment.
They were doubtless take steps sooner or later to learn what had happened, but in the meantime,
unless Adelina had called up the police before her capture, almost anything might happen.
Grant Lee had unmistakably revealed his vindictiveness and willingness to go to any length.
When he was himself again, therefore, his influence would be in the highest degree antagonistic,
rather than otherwise. That was doubtless what Sebald and the rest were waiting for,
to get orders from Grantley for the final disposal of the enemies. But Patsy was to experience still
another shock. Almost immediately after the fourth prisoner had been thrown upon the indiscriminate
heap, a fifth form was added to it. For perhaps half a minute Patsy puzzled over the identity
of this latest arrival. Then in a flash he guessed the harrowing truth. It must be the Jewish
girl vivisectionist victim
and she had almost certainly been
brought there unquestionably more
dead than alive to get her out
of the way in case the blue coats should search
the house.
The end of chapter 7.
Chapter 8 of the stolen
brain by Nicholas Carter
This Libby Box recording
is in the public domain
read by Yoganan
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 8
A sinister cell
That conviction made Patsy cringe more than ever.
Had they done anything to relieve the girl's sufferings or close the gaping wood they had made in a breast,
or had they thrown her in there just as she was to die?
Again the young detective's speculations were interrupted, however, this time in a different and at first more puzzling way.
The air suddenly became still closer and more oppressive as if they had been shut in a confined space.
But that was not all.
The sound of shoveling began at once.
and lumps of something hard struck and rolled with a hollow sound just above Patsy's head.
What was happening?
Nick's assistant did not take long to penetrate the mystery, although he had well his years to aid him.
He concluded that a wooden cover had been placed over their place of confinement, and that
coal was being shoveled in on top of it.
They were probably in an old coal bin, he reasoned with the false bottom, and when the space
above was filled, there would be nothing to indicate that the whole bin was not full of it.
call. It was a clever arrangement, altogether too clever for comfort. Nick and his assistants
had encountered its like more than once, and it could not have deceived them for long. It
might easily prove too much for the police, however, even if they made an investigation.
Nick's other assistants could be counted on to solve the problem when they finally
obtained access to the house, if they could, but it would probably be too late then, much
too late, in fact.
The hull into which the prisoners had been thrown
could hardly be more than eight feet
square, if that much, and it was
not likely that it was more than four feet
deep. It was closed at the top
now, and the sights were doubtless, fairly
tight, in order that no cracks
of any size could reveal the hollow
space behind. That meant
an appallingly small number of cubic feet
of air, and bad air at that,
for five people to breathe,
assuming that the young Jewish
was not yet dead.
As Patsy analyzed his sensations, he became aware of a peculiar and sinister order which pervaded the place.
For some time he could not identify it, but at length, with a start of horror, he realized its nature.
There was no doubt about it in his mind now, or about the criminality of the captors.
For the order was that of lime mingled with the feign stench of decaying animal matter.
That was the way that Patsy put it to himself at any rate, but he more than suspected that the animal matter had been human flesh.
In other words, he was convinced that the place where they had been thrown had previously been used for the purpose of destroying the bodies of previous victims of the vivisectionists.
The bodies had apparently been thrown into the old bin and covered with quick lime which had afterward been removed.
There was only a little fine dust on the concrete floor of the bin now, as Patsy easily ascertained with his bound hands.
It must either be lime or coal dust, perhaps a combination of the two.
for the young detective had felt the latter sifting down through the cracks above his head as a coal was shoveled over the false bottom.
He could not resist a shudder as he came to this ghastly conclusion.
He and his friends were in a veritable charnel house and if Dr. Grandley had his way,
there was little doubt but that quick blame would be heaped over their dead bodies,
perhaps over the living once before long.
Something must be done if possible.
But what?
whatever it was to be.
It looked as if Patsy must attempt it unnaided.
Someone else was moving.
Someone whose body lay partly over Patsy's.
The latter believed it was his chief, but he could not be sure.
Moreover, even if it was Nick, Patsy had been in full possession of his senses throughout
and was therefore in a better position to go ahead.
He wished he could communicate with Nick and get the benefit of the great detective's advice,
but that was out of the question, for the time being at least.
Patsy was quite used to going ahead alone and relying upon his own keen wits.
He did so now.
His first thought concerned his bond themselves.
Could he wriggle out of them?
His captors were not experienced criminals of the ordinary sort.
Perhaps they had failed to tie him securely.
Sadly, they had shown their ignorance by binding his hands in front of him instead of behind.
He went to work at once, slipping his wrist back and forth and making his hands as small as possible in an effort to draw them out of the loops of
rope. Nevertheless, despite the fact that he had doubled his fist and made his wrist as large
as possible while the ropes were being fastened, he found it impossible to free his hands. The
knots did not give to any appreciable extent and it was obvious that they had been tied with
greater skill than Patsy had supposed. Nick's assistant next tried his teeth on them. This would
have been out of question if his hands had been secured behind his back but fortunately they were
not. His teeth were sharp and strong and had often been put to similar use. It was tedious
work at best, but gradually one strand after another was not away. Victory was in sight,
when to his supreme disgust, his teeth encountered something hard. He ran his tongue
investigatingly over the place. The rope had a core of strong, flexible wire. Patsy's teeth,
efficient as they were, were powerless against such an obstacle. This setback would have
discouraged 99 out of 100 detectives to say nothing of other men, but the young Irish man was
not daunted. He put his brain to work again with a result that, after a few moments of
hard thinking, he twisted his fettered hands about until the fingers of one of them could
fish into the inside breast pocket of his coat. Seabald had disarmed him, but he did not make
a general search of Patsy's pockets. Consequently, Nick's assistant was still in possession of his
pocket kit of folding burglar's tools.
drew it out, opened it awkwardly, and felt about until he located the desired article,
a thin file. The combined weight of more than one of his companions and misfortune held down
his legs, but the upper part of his body was free and one shoulder was against one of the wooden
walls of the bin. Holding the file, Patsy raised his hands and felt about for a crack. He found a
small one at once, a few inches above his head. In this, he pushed the handle end of the file.
He was ready for work.
He put one hand on one side of the file and the other hand on the other side to prevent the tool from slipping away from him as he pressed against it.
That done, he began to draw the exposed wire to and fro over the file.
The sound could not be muffled, but it was slight.
In any case, it was not likely to bring disaster.
Patsy felt sure that the cellar had been vacated by the captors after the coal was thrown into place.
He kept his ears open for the sounds of approach, however.
and went at his task with a will.
The wire was not more than an eighth of an inch in diameter
and was soon filed through.
That did not mean release, however,
a Nix assistant kept on sawing away at the rope itself
until it frayed out and gave access to another core of wire.
That too was severed in the course of time,
and after a few jerks, the ropes and patsy's wrists fell away.
His hands were free,
and with them, once more fully at his command,
he made short work of his gag.
Chief, he whispered cautiously.
I'm loose, partly, and I'm going to make a stab at getting you out of here.
Are you all right?
They came a muffled sound and replied to Patsy's question.
The end of chapter 8.
Chapter 9 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri Box recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yorghanand.
The Stolen Brain.
Chapter 9
An Interrupted Escape
A pair of hands cropped toward the spot from which the sound had come,
found Patsy's arm and gave it a reassuring pressure.
Nick Carter had answered as well as he was able at the moment.
Good, Norman Patsy.
I'll have you lose in two shakes.
He felt along Nick's arms in turn until he came to his chief's face.
Nick's gear came in for attention first and was quickly remote.
Bear now, Patsy remarked in the same low talk.
This is a little more like it.
He had a knife out now, but his fingers proved to be better able to cope with the rope with the wire core now that he could use them freely.
He went at Nick's wrist first, leaving his own ankles bound and weighed down as they were.
Where are we? Have you any idea? Nick asked eagerly.
I have only the vaguest impression of being dragged and suspended and dumped and a few other things,
including something which sounded as if we had been buried alive, and they were throwing the dirt over a coffin.
you're not so far off about that as you may think his assistant replied Patsy then went on to tell his chief what he knew and suspected a few crisp words were sufficient and after that he explained what he thought would be the best move for them to make
Nick approved the plan. Neither of them wasted any time in outlining their courts of action after they should get out of the bin. That must take care of itself and would naturally be governed by circumstances. Nick's bonds were soon entirely removed and the detective turned his attention to the others, while Patsy removed the dead weight from his own legs and attacked the ropes which bound his ankles. Nick's little pocket flash lamp had not been taken away from him. It was now brought into use since there was apparently no one in the cellar to see its life.
The sight which it revealed was the most painful one through the chinks of the bin.
Dr. Cook was still unconscious.
At first glance it seemed that he must be dead,
but the detective quickly ascertained with an exclamation of relief
that the young surgeon's heart was beating strongly.
Reassured by this, Nick threw the light upon Adelina Gawain.
Patsy was entirely free by that time and pressed forward anxiously.
His wife was conscious and seemingly unhurt,
although she had been bound like the rest.
Is it all right, dear?
Her young husband asked eagerly.
She gave a nod.
Then the chief will cut you loose.
Unfortunately, I have other fish to fry.
Yes, you had better get busy, Nick agreed.
It'll save time if I attend to Adelaina while you're trying to force your way out.
By the way, did you send for any brass buttons?
Patsy asked his wife suddenly.
This time she shook her head and a look of distress came into expressive dark eyes.
Her husband bent suddenly and extracted the gag from her mouth.
Why not? he inquired gently, striving to conceal his disappointment.
I thought you would whistle if you wanted me, too.
Adelaide replied apologetically.
It didn't seem possible that they could down all three of you
without giving you a chance to signal me,
and I was afraid of coming things up, as you call it.
Just before they ceased me, though, the police were coming
to investigate the explosion, I suppose.
But I didn't have any chance to call out.
I was so taken by surprise.
They came in the back way, and I thought it was,
You and the chief.
Never mind, little woman. Nick spoke up consolingly.
You couldn't help it.
Get to work, Patsy.
We haven't any time to lose.
It isn't likely under the circumstances that the police will search Grantley's house,
and there's no knowing how soon those scoundrels may come for us again.
Patsy waited, however, until Nick had flashed a light on the other figure.
The suspense was painful.
Yes, as he had suspected, the fifth occupant of the bin was a Jewish girl.
The sheet which had partially covered her on the operating table had been wrapped about her.
Her bare feet and shoulders protruded from it and were as white as a muslin itself.
She lay in a position which suggested that she did not have a bone in a body, so strangely twisted was it.
The detective bent forward reluctantly and drew down the sheet.
He felt it necessary, after ascertaining that she was still breathing faintly,
to see in what condition a wound had been left.
A heart had evidently been replaced
For a bandage tightly drawn
Had been wrapped about a body under the arms
It was strained with blood
And there was little doubt that the terrible opening
Had not been soon up at all
The bandage was merely a temporary one
Resorted to for the sake of keeping her alive if possible
Until Grantley should determine what was to be done with her and the others
The vivisectionist's victim was still alive
And that was about all that could be said
Patsy had seen enough.
He left Nick to care for her and Adelinea
and turned his attention to the walls of the strange person.
The place of confinement was even smaller than he had supposed
and the air was already stifling
and it was being breathed much faster
than it could possibly be renewed through the tiny cracks between the boats.
Patsy's head was already beginning to feel
as if there was an iron band around it
which was being drawn tighter and tighter.
The memory of the girls,
deathly pallor and the blood-stained bandage sickened him under the circumstances to an unaccustomed
extent. Patsy selected a collapsible Jimmy from his set of tilts. This he pushed out to its fullest
length, then armed with it he attacked the boards at one side of the bend. He preferred to make a
set-empt there rather than in front because if he made any headway their enemies would not be so
likely to see what was going on as soon as they set foot again in the cellar. After doing so,
however, he had cautiously trapped on the side chosen and produced a hollow sound which told
him that there was no obstruction on the other side of the plank wall, none at least which
were immediately in contact with the boats. This little tool, a slender rod of iron,
not much more than a foot and length seemed inadequate. Patsy knew what it could do though
and just how to use it to the best advantage. In his skilled hands it immediately began to bring
bristles which seemed out of all proportion to their cause. The heavy play
The planks, a good two inches thick, laid close together and fastened with big wire nails,
started to give at once when the flattened end of the jimmy was inserted in the cracks
and the tool used as a miniature crowbar.
The wire nails creached with startling loudness as they were drawn out of the wood of the stout uprights,
but that could not be avoided.
Patsy worked as cautiously and slowly as the circumstances seemed to justify,
and for the rest he could only hope that the occupants of the house were too far away to hear the noises,
he was obliged to make.
Apparently, they did not, for there was no sign of approach as yet.
Soon, one of the planks, about eight to ten inches wide, was spried loose sufficiently to allow
it to be drawn into the bin out of sight.
Nick, who had released Adelina and cut the robes from the still unconscious physician,
helped his assistant in this.
They took care not to drop the board, and as soon as it was deposited on that concrete of
the bin, Nick took the Jimmy and attacked the next one above it.
The hole was already large enough to allow one of them to wriggle through, and Patsy, at his chief suggestion, took advantage of that fact.
The plan was that Patsy should secretly escrow from the house, if possible, through one of the cellar windows, taking Adelina with him.
He could then summon help and return.
It would have greatly increased the difficulties to have tried to remove the mutilated girl at that time,
aside from the probability that such an attempt, without proper conveniences, would kill her outright.
As for Dr. Cook, he was coming to under Adelina's ministrations,
but it would be some time before he was on his feet again
and able to cope with the difficulties involved.
Consequently, Nick decided to remain where he was
and guard his two charges as well as he could in the absence of weapons
while Patsy and Adelina sought a way out.
Whatever, while he was waiting for the result of the Sally,
he meant to enlarge the opening
in order that the girl could be removed as soon as the way was cleared
for the summoning of an ambulance.
Adelaena wished to stay, but Nick made us see that that was useless.
She accordingly followed Patsy through the narrow space between the boats.
They found themselves another coal bin, an honest one this time.
There was a ton or so of coal in it, but it sloped up toward the opposite wall and the back
in such a way that it did not interfere with their escape.
They proceeded very cautiously nevertheless, for there was a little coal underfoot,
and it had a tendency to roll under their feet and set the main mast to sliding.
They gained the front of the bin without making much noise, and Patsy climbed over.
He was just in the act of helping his wife to do likewise when their hearts stopped for a moment.
They heard footsteps over their heads, followed by the opening of a door.
Immediately afterward came voices, distinctly audible, and the creak of stairs close at hand.
The cellar was being entered again, and by the force.
The end of chapter 9.
Chapter 10
Of the Stolen Brain
By Nicholas Carter
This LibertyVox recording is in the public domain
Read by Yoga Anand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 10
Patsy to the front
The shock benumbed Patsy's faculties
Only for a moment
He gave Adelina's vase
A warning squeeze
Then lifted her over with a rush
Set her lightly and silently on her feet
And dragged her to one side
He made no attempt to warn Nick
for he knew that his chief's keen years had already done that for him.
Next to the bin from which they had just emerged was a space not partitioned off,
which contained several barrels and boxes.
It was nearer to the stairway than the bins,
but Patsy instantly decided that they could hide behind the barrels
before there was much chance of there being seen,
and they were the nearest shelter anyway.
The foremost figure on the stairs was evidently carrying a candle,
for the light which shone on the steps was dim and flickering.
The feet of two men were now in sight,
But the upper parts of their bodies were still hidden when Patsy and Adelena dodged behind the nearest of the friendly barrels.
Another advantage of their position was that they would be between the enemies and the stairs when the crisis came, as it was almost certain to do.
They crouched down in their dusty, stale-smelling retreat and waited with baited brits.
This is an awful thing that you're planning to do, Dr. Grantley, said a voice which Patsy recognized as that of the assistant Seabolt.
it isn't the mere taking of lives that I am thinking about now.
That has come to mean comparatively little to us,
although we have never murdered anybody in cold blood for the sake of murder
or any personal reason.
We have experimented on plenty of people, though,
knowing that there wasn't one chance of recovery in a hundred,
and there isn't so very much difference between that and downright murder.
But think what this means.
Think of Nick Carter's fame and the rumpus his disappearance will cause.
We have made a clean sweep next door, but he must have other associates who will know why he was living up here.
They'll put the police's voice, and between them they'll make short work of arresting us and turning this house inside out.
Well, Dr. Sebalt had been speaking, he and his companions, for it turned out there were two of them,
had passed Patsy's hiding place and paused in front of the trick-bin.
Well, let them, Brantley answered in a voice it was sick and harsh with rage.
Nobody, I don't care who, can stick his nose into my affairs and try to make me out a criminal
just because I choose to risk a few worthless lives.
This confounded Carter couldn't prove anything, but he and that fool cook could have me hounded from pillar to post.
My work is far too important to permit it to be interfered with by any such meddlesome blunderers.
They must take the consequences.
As for there being any comeback, that's out of the question.
At any rate, I am willing to take the risk, and I pay you fellows to do the same.
We're all in it, and we must hang together.
If you bulk either you or half here, you'll go the same way.
I give you a fair warning.
They can arrest us if they want to, but they'll find nothing to convict us, I promise you that.
There are several cowboys of that new acid of our upstairs.
After we have given them a bath in that, there won't be a trace of any of them left.
And when we get through with it, we can pour it down.
a drain. Fortunately, it hasn't any order to speak of, and no one will ever know the difference.
Then we can clean everything up here in the cellar and elsewhere, and sit tight. The police have
been sent away none the wiser, and it isn't likely that they'll bother us again tonight. Everything
will be quiet until Carter's friends begin to get uneasy, and when that happens, we'll be prepared
for anything. Get to work off and open the door. Patsy was at a loss to understand what door
was meant, but he had no doubt that his chief was in danger of discovery.
Therefore, he leaned over until his lips touched Adelina's ears.
Wait, until I give them something to think about, he breathed, and then slip upstairs.
I think the others have gone.
Go next to her and telephone.
His wife nodded silently.
Patsy might be mistaken about the other doctors.
It was more than possible that she would run into them before she could get out of the house.
Nevertheless, she was gay.
They heard the jingling of keys, and then a rasper.
as of a padlock being removed.
Following that came the creaking of rusty hinges.
They could not see what was going on.
If they had been able to, they would have been greatly surprised.
For the two lower boards at the front of the bin in which they had been confined,
formed a rude dough which was being open outward by half.
Patsy had not investigated the front of the bin,
having preferred to force his way out at one side.
Even if he had discovered evidences of the dough, however,
the padlock on the outside would have prevented him from taking advantage of the fact.
Incidentally, this padlock, being in plain sight from the outside, showed that there had been no attempt to conceal the existence of the Doe.
Obviously, those responsible for its presence had assumed that, in the case of a possible search of the premises, it would be accounted for on the theory that it was used to facilitate the removal of coal from underneath.
Pat C was somewhat mystified by the turn of Fertz had taken, and could not understand how the Doe alluded to by Grantley could give the Rascals access to his friends.
Nevertheless, his instinct told him that such must be the case.
He felt in the barrel behind which he was hiding.
Luckily it was nearly full of alternates of chunk, including several pieces of old iron,
evidently parts of a kitchen wrench.
Patsy seized upon one of these fragments.
It must have been part of the top of the stow, along the edge,
for it included one straight side about 15 inches long,
and parts of two stow holes with jagged edges between.
It was likely to prove a formidable weapon in Patsy's hands.
The young detective lost no time in pulling it out of the barrel.
He was obliged to make a noise in doing so, but the time for care had passed.
It was haste that was demanded at that stage,
for he wished to attract the attention of the trio and thereby cover emergence from the bin as well as Adelina's flight.
What was that? demanded grantly.
The words had barely left the vivisectionist's lips before Patsy burst from the shadows
and ran forward with his rude weapon uplifted.
You know me all right, gentlemen, he called with a grin of defiance.
in the fiend's name,
ejaculated Grantley, starting back.
How did...
As he advanced, Patsy swept the scene with a quick glance.
He saw that the front of the fake bin
gaped open and that Hoff was just in the act of
straightening up with one hand still on the little door.
If Hoff had already seen anything out of the way inside, though,
he had had no time to communicate the fact to his companions.
Nick's assistant had taken all three of them completely by surprise
and it was obvious that they were either unarmed
or too dumb forner to draw their weapons.
It was quite possible that the former was the case,
for they could not have foreseen any need for firearms
in handling the prisoner whom they had bound so securely.
At any rate, Patsy was elderly within arm's reach of Grantley,
who was the nearest of the trail.
The sergeant was far from a cover,
but in the face of this unexpected onslaught,
he could only back toward his allies.
His manner was still dazed,
and his eyes were fastened unwinkingly on Patsy
in the manner of a fascinated squirrel
under the spell of a bore constrictor.
It was not until the strange weapon was actually descending
that he recovered his presence of mind enough to dodge or try to do so.
He succeeded only partially, however.
The piece of iron missed his head by a fraction of an inch,
but descended with numbing force on the muscles of his right shoulder.
Hoff had tried to protect him,
but the German's interference came a little too late to be very effective.
He thrust his staggering employer aside, however,
and jumped at Patsy before the latter could recover for another blow.
patsy gave back a step or two and thus came close to the front of the coal bin that adjoined the one with the false bottom the german was larger and much more fully muscled than the young detective it looked as if the latter was pitted against more than his match but patsy was not daunted in the least
he was chiefly concerned just then with the hope that his wife would not delay our attempt to escape and that nick would be able to crawl out of the hole before he was discovered
"'Ach, sir,' Snoled Hoff.
"'We shall see!'
He caught Patsy's upraised rest in a powerful grip,
and one of his big arms went around the young man's waist.
Patsy felt himself being bent backward from his hips in a way that was far from agreeable.
Despite Hoff's hold, he managed to toss the piece of iron into the cold bend.
It was only in his way now, but he did not care to drop it where one of his enemies
could possess himself of it without any trouble.
As soon as he was relieved of his encumbrance,
he began to do his best to break Hoff's hold.
He was a master of hundreds of tricks of ordinary wrestling and jujutsu.
Moreover, his suppleness and rapidity of motion went no little way to offset Hoff's prude strength and ponderous bulk.
The result, for the time being, was something surprisingly like a draw.
The German pinned his lighter antagonist against the front of the bin of coal, but Patsy's lids wrigglings prevented him from bringing the struggle to a conclusion.
As were Grantley and Seabold, they made no attempt to take a hand on the assumption that Hoff ought to be able to handle Patsy alone.
They were too much interested in the struggle, however, to realize the full significance of Patsy's escape from captivity,
or to look into the hole to see if any of their other prisoners had escaped.
There was a gas jet close to Seabold, which he had lighted with the aid of the candle as soon as Hoff had engaged Patsy.
The gas was stunned low to keep it from attracting attention on the outside,
but it illuminated the cellar sufficiently for them to see a skulking form beyond the competence,
a skirted form that was creeping stealthily toward the stairs.
Dr. Seabald discovered it first and seized Grantley's arm.
Look there, he cried in alarm.
Another is loose.
The girl!
It was indeed Adelina whom he had seen, and she had heard the exclamation.
It warned her that no time was to be lost.
She broke into a run while Patsy ground his teeth at the mishap which had revealed her
and Seabald sprang forward in pursuit.
The chaise was at us to the next moment, however, in a startling way.
Look out! shouted Grantley.
His tone was peremptory and shrill with excited warning.
Siebold paused abruptly and turned his head.
Grantley was not looking after the scurrying girl at all, but at the bin just about the heads of the struggling men.
A head and a pair of appraised arms, with something grasped threateningly with both hands,
had suddenly appeared there, the rest of the body being hidden by the boats which formed the front of the cold bin.
"'Hough!' cried Sebalt, but his warning was too late.
A heavy shovel whistled through the air and descended with a sickening thud on the German's head.
the end of chapter 10
Chapter 11
of the Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter
This Liberty Rock's recording is in the public domain
Read by Yoganand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 11
Varying Fortunes
It was Nick Carter
who had come to his assistance rescue
And incidentally had taken a hand
Just in time to hold Seabald
In the latter's pursuit of Adelina
Contrary to Patsy's expectations
the detective had chosen to crawl through the opening into the next bin,
instead of through the little door which Hoff had opened at the front.
Grantley and Seabold were too near the latter to make it a safe exit,
for Nick would have had to crawl out on his hands and knees,
and they would have been practically certain to see him
before he could get into a position to defend himself to advantage.
By creeping it to the other bin, however, as Patsy had done,
he was unable to remain undercover until he was ready to make his presence known.
Moreover, he had found there the shovel which had been used to throw the coal over the false bottom of the trick-bin,
and with this as a weapon he had decided to terminate the struggle between his assistant and the servant.
There was no doubt about his success.
The handle of the shovel narrowly missed Patsy's head, but Nick knew what he was about.
The heavy metal scoop landed fairly on Hoff's cranium,
and the German crumpled up in the arms of the astonished assistant,
who let the body of his antagonist drop to the floor.
An instant later, Nick was vaulting over the barrier.
The young Irish man picked up the shovel.
He did not wait for the chief to alight, nor did he apparently pay any attention to Adelina,
whose feet were pattering on the stairs by that time.
It was enough for him to hear them and to know that he could not prevent her from being followed.
He singled out Dr. Seabald and sprang at him,
whirling the big shovel aloft as he did so, and leaving Nick to utter into Grantley.
He knew that the detective would prefer to deal with the ringleader himself.
Seabold was unarmed
and a hasty, panic-stricken survey
of his surroundings failed to reveal anything
in the nature of a weapon within reach.
Suddenly, however, he leaped toward the gas jet and turned the thumbscrew.
Immediately the cellar was plunged in darkness
except for a faint light which filtered down the distant stairs
from the lighted hallway above.
Nick's assistant had bred Seabald's purpose,
but he was too far away to thwart it.
He dropped the shovel, however, as soon as the light went out
and flung himself toward the place where Seabald had been standing.
His outstretched arms encountered empty air and then the rough whitewashed wall to which the gas bracket was fastened.
But his keen years caught a noise just to the right.
He knew in a second that Seabald had dodged in that direction and could not be more than a foot or two away.
Sharing off from the wall, he plunged recklessly in pursuit, leaning as far forward as he dared every sense on the alert to catch the slightest hint of Seabult's movements.
It was evident at once the assistant surgeon had made a foolish plunder.
If he had dodged to Patsy's left instead of his right, the young detective would have necessarily been between him and the light on the stairs.
As it was, though, he was between Patsy and the light, and his antagonist saw his form dimly outlined as Seabal took another tack.
Patsy's eyes had not yet accustomed themselves to the changed conditions, but they were in much better shape to see what was going on than the average persons would have been under like circumstances.
Consequently, he made out as much as necessary and instantly changed his own courts.
Simontalously bounded forward with added confidence and impetuosity.
The result was that he grasped Seabold's coat almost immediately.
The young surgeon tried to wriggle out of the garment, but before he could free himself,
Patsy had grasped both of his arms and brought him to a halt.
Seabold was at a disadvantage because he was half out of and half in his coat,
and consequently his resistance was not what it might have been otherwise.
He fought desperately in a frenzy of fear, while curse after curse passed his riding lips,
but Patsy hung on with comparative ease.
Gradually, the young doctor's wrists were brought together behind his back.
Then, to make sure that Seabold would not break away while one of his captor's hands was temporarily withdrawn,
Patsy deliberately tripped him and fell as heavily as he could on top.
While Seabal was gasping for breath to replace that which the unexpected fall had knocked out of him,
Nick's assistant reached into his pocket, produced a pair of handcuffs, and snapped them into place.
Seabal was not likely to give further trouble just then.
In fact, Patsy intimated as much to his captive, and added,
So just lie there and think it over while I throw some light on this business again.
He had scarcely regained his feet before there was a clatter and the sound of a heavy fall.
An exclamation accompanied it, which told Patsy that it was his chief who had gone down.
Besides, there could be little doubt that it was the shovel which had tripped his chief while the latter was scouting about in the darkness on Grantley's trail.
He had dropped the shovel near the gas fixture so that the sound now helped to guide him toward his objective point.
He did not speak to Nick, however, for he was afraid, if the latter answered, that the sound of his voice would help Grantley to locate him in case a scoundrelty surgeon was scumptuble surgeon was keen enough to pounce upon his discomfited enemy instead of taking that opportunity to steal away.
Patsy's thoughtful precaution was useless.
Before he could reach his fallen chief or the detective could scramble to his feet,
Grantley had turned back and leaped upon Carter with all the fury of desperation and murderous resolve.
Nick had been expecting that move on the part of the vivisectionist and listening for it.
He was still on his knees, but he had laid hold of the shovel to keep it out of Grantley's hands.
The sergeant's impetuous rush caused him almost to fall over the detective's arched body.
He came from one side at an angle, and the impact of the moment.
threw Nick over again. His side struck one of the sharp edges of the shovel, which he had not
been able to get out of the way. An involuntary exclamation escaped him as a pain stabbed him
through and through. His grip on the handle of the shovel relaxed for a moment. The next instant,
Grantley's groping hands had found it and jerked it from under him. Now, Curse you, the surgeon
cried. We'll see how you like your own medicine. Again, the shovel was appraised, this time
over Nick's own head. The detective,
forgot his aching sight. Grantley's knees were gripping his legs as they might have gripped the
side of a horse, but the vivisectionist had been compelled to use both hands to swing the shovel upward.
With surprising ease, Nick flung the upper part of his body around until his head and shoulders
were close to Grantley's left knee. As he did so, the ponderous weapon descended. His target
had shifted, however, and the shovel rang against the concrete floor with the force that stung
Grantley's hands. At the same instant the detective's arms reached up and shot around
his waist and the darkness fled. The struggle had been taking place directly between Patsy and the
gas chitter, with the result that Nick's assistant had halted uncertainly and peered forward for a few
seconds. He did not hesitate long, though, or it suddenly occurred to him that his flash lamp
had probably been left undisturbed as a burglar tool's had been. He was right, and it was the
work of an instant only to find the electric torch and turn its rays upon the combatants.
His first glance reassured him, for he saw that his chief had managed to train
missed himself in a position which made it impossible for grantedly to use the shovel successfully.
Instinctively, Patsy's eyes traveled from them to the fallen German. The latter was seemingly
as unconscious as ever. Shall I finish him, chief? The young detective asked eagerly, turning back again.
He knew that Nick had been knocked out pretty thoroughly and show no good reason for prolonging
the fight. As a matter of fact, however, he had little hope that Nick would allow him to interfere.
You might choke him off for me, the detective said with a wry face.
Evidently, his side was troubling him more than he could have cared to confess.
Patsy needed nothing more.
He laid down his flashed lamp, which was so made that it had not required a continuous
pressure on the button to remain lighted and jumped into the fray.
His fingers went around Grantley's neck and he jerked the surgeon backward until Nick was freed.
Grantley struggled for all he was worth, but the grip on his throat did not relax.
His face grew purple and congested.
His tongue hung out of his labouring jaws.
and still Patsy maintained that terrible halt.
Gradually, the vivisectioner struggles became weaker and weaker,
but it was not until Nick had handcuffed him that Patsy's grip was loosened.
As soon as he had tossed the gasping and almost unconscious manner said,
Patsy made for half with the intention of securing him
before he should come to and give any more trouble.
He halted on the way, however, amazed to find Dr. Cook in his path.
Nick's friend had slowly regained his senses and finding himself free,
had crawled out of his prison house as soon as he felt it safe to do so. He and Patsy exchanged
a few hurried words after which the latter started upwards to satisfy himself that all was well
with Adelina. He met her returning to the Grantly House and learned from her that she had
telephoned to the police and the nearest hospital. An ambulance and a patrol wagon full of
reserves soon arrived. There was no longer any need of the latter but the ambulance was very welcome.
The Jewish girl, whose name was subsequently found to be Alma Baum, was tenderly removed
from the cellar and carried to the hospital where she ultimately recovered from a terrible experience.
Rantley's skill had made a bungling job impossible despite the highly dangerous nature of the inexcusable
operation which had been performed upon her. Alma owes her life to Nick Carter twice over as a matter
of fact, for the detective was not really instrumental in halting the operation and rushing her
to the hospital at the earliest possible moment, but also furnished the money which enabled her
later on to go to the Adirondacks where she made a complete recovery from her lung trouble.
Grantley, Seabold and Hoff were locked up that night.
The six young physicians who had been Grantley's disciples had left a house before the climax.
After the flesh wound which Patsy had inflicted on, one of them had been dressed.
The nurse had taken French leave as soon as her employer and his two companions started for the cellar.
All of them were rounded up, however, despite the difficulties involved.
Nick was usually opposed to newspaper sensations, but in this instance he encouraged the newspapers to make as much as they could of the arrest and the shocking practices which had led up to them.
The end of Chapter 11
Chapter 12 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Liberty Vox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yorg Anand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 12
A surprising development
You say that Dr. Hiram Grantley has offered his services to Jay Hackley Baldwin?
What do you mean?
These two startled questions were put by Nick Carter to a handsome, impressive-looking man of the most polished professional aspect.
The scene of the interview was a detective study and the grey-haired man in eyeglasses,
with whom he was closeted, was Dr. Delors, Vanderpull, physician to many of the most exclusive families in the city,
and more particularly the family practitioner of Jay Hackley Baldwin, the blindman.
multi-milliner. I mean exactly what I say, Mr. Carter. Dr. Vanderpull replied bravely. There's
no room for mistake, unfortunately. Grantley, the surgeon who has been shown up so completely,
thanks to you, in connection with his reckless and shocking experiments and living human beings,
has at the affrontry to approach Mr. Baldwin and offered to perform an operation on his eyes.
The detective's attitude relaxed as a result of this explanation. He knew, as well as anybody,
that the powerful millionaire had been totally blind for years and had spent hundreds of
of thousands of dollars and submitted to numerous operations in vain in an attempt to recover his sight.
Well, what of it?
He asked quietly.
I'm surprised that Grantley should have aimed so high, after all the undesirable publicity of his recent trial.
But he cannot operate on Mr. Baldwin without his consent.
And surely, there's not the slightest likelihood that that will be granted.
That is just the trouble, the physician responded with a worried look on his eyes.
You mean that Mr. Baldwin is actually considering the fellow's offer?
he did in surprise. Vanderpull nodded reluctantly.
I am sorry to say he is, he answered.
More than that, he seems determined to place himself in Grantley's hands.
Nothing I've been able to say appear to have shaken his resolve in the smallest degree.
Carter whistled.
Doesn't he know what Hidden Grantley is?
He demanded.
Mr. Baldwin keeps in touch through his secretaries,
with everything of importance that goes on in the world.
Was he reply.
He claims to have followed Grantley's trial very closely.
Moreover, I have taken it upon myself to speak very plainly to him.
As a matter of fact, though, he knows a great deal more about Grantley than I do.
He has caused the most minute inquiries into the man's professional record to be made, and
as a consequence he has discovered that Grantley has had remarkable success as an eye surgeon
in many cases.
Not only that, but Grantley himself seems to have made a great impression on Mr. Baldwin,
by the confident way in which he has stated his qualifications and declared his belief
that he could restore the financial site.
Now, Mr. Carter, there is no doubt, of course,
that Hiram Grantley has been one of the ablest surgeons in America,
if not in the world.
Strictly speaking, there is nothing to be said against his qualifications
and a great deal to be said for them.
But the man has been under suspicion for years
and is thoroughly discredited now.
His scientific zeal and ruthless disregard of life
have carried him beyond all bones
and made him no better than a murder in the eyes
even of his brother's surgeons.
You caught him red-handed, and although 12 fools in the jury room saw fit to disagree over his guilt,
he stands condemned today before the world's bar of judgment.
Shall such a man be permitted to do as he pleases with one of the most precious lives in the country?
And aside from his unsavory record, he has violated professional ethics in the most serious way
by making an unsolicited offer of that sort.
What is behind it?
That's what is worrying me chiefly, however.
Is it based on actual confidence in his ability?
to cure Mr. Baldwin's blindness and decide to restore Baldwin himself to popular favor?
Or is it not possible that there is a secret and sinister motive in the background,
which threatens Mr. Baldwin with injury or death?
You can see now why I've come to you.
Nick Carter remains silent for perhaps a minute, thoughtfully studying the blotter on his desk.
How far has it gone?
He inquired presently.
Has the date of the operation been set?
Yes.
The day after tomorrow, at 10 a.m.
And the place? Dr. Vanderpull made a rife face.
Grantley's residence in private hospital in the Bronx.
The scene of your raid, he said.
Paul Dvin is evidently willing to take chances in order to recover his sight.
The detective said musingly after another pause.
As you say, it's quite possible, theoretically at least,
that Grantley has sufficient skill to do what the others have failed to do.
He has certainly performed many surgical miracles.
There seems to be another instance of a drowning man grasping at a straw.
In his anxiety to see again Baldwin does not care what Liberti's
Granly's knife may have taken with the bodies of obscure persons living on the east side
or how near he came to murdering us that night after we had interfered with this bloody scientific pastimes.
Your multi-millionaire feels confident that Grantley would not dare try any tricks on him
and he is willing to overlook the unprofessional manner of the man's approach.
He's impatient toward restraint, used to having his own way and everything
and fired by a new hope is harder to manage then ever.
Is that the way you interpret the situation, Doctor?
I could not hope to put it better.
That is the way I size it up.
That part of it anyway.
As for the rest, however, you'll have to give me a little time to think it over.
I'm very glad you came to me.
As you say, there may be something queer back of it.
By the way, can you arrange an interview for me with Mr. Baldwin
in case I find it necessary to call upon him?
Certainly.
Very well.
I may ask you to do so later on.
In any case, I shall let you know as soon as I come to any decision.
Dr. Vanderpull rose to go and took his departure after a few more words,
confident that he had placed the matter in the best possible hands.
Nick Carter remained at his desk absent-mindedly drawing circles on his plotter.
The puzzle which had been given to him to Saul was a decidedly unusual one
and it might mean almost anything or next to nothing.
The end of Chapter 12.
Chapter 13 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Vox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 13.
Wanted a motive.
The case against Grantley and his confederates had furnished one of the greatest newspaper
sensations of recent years, and the attitude of the public toward the vivisectionist was bitter
in the extreme.
Their trial were delayed for some months during which time,
Nick and his assistants collected all the evidence they could obtain.
The girl recovered, and as there had been no law at the time to forbid such unnecessary operations,
the detective was compelled to furnish another basis for prosecution.
It was that or nothing.
After a great deal of probing, Nick had brought to light an instance of actual death
as a result of a previous experiment in vivisection which had been carried out by Dr. Grantley
and the same set of assistants.
It was that of a little boy also from the east side and the son of poor parents.
He had been lame and Grantley had carried him to the private hospital in the Bronx after promising a cure by means of an operation on his hip.
The operation that had actually been performed, however, had borne absolutely no relation to the child's lameness and he had died from the effects of it.
It seemed a clear case of manslaughter and the prosecution put all its strength into it, but Grantley still had means despite the fact that his practice had fallen off to an alarming extent in recent years.
Moreover, he was exceptionally clever and had retained a number of powerful friends among the more radical and unscrupulous surgeons in the state.
As a consequence, his defense was an unexpectedly strong one.
He and his lawyer brought forward expert witness after witness to testify in his behalf,
all of whom insisted that there was, or might have been, abandoned justification for the operation performed.
The experts for the prosecution denied this, of course, and between them they managed to bewilder the jury to such an extent that the long,
trial resulted finally in a disagreement. To cap the climax, the district attorney had
decided to release the prisoners rather than hold them for a new trial. He did not
believe it possible to convict them and decide to save the county needless
expense. This decision was a great disappointment to Nick and his assistance
as well as to the public generally. Nevertheless, the agitation had resulted in
placing on the statute books a new law which made it a crime for any surgeon to
perform an operation of any kind without the constant of the patient or some
relative or responsible friend. Furthermore, any unnecessary operation or any surgical or other
experiment having no bearing on the patient's ailment was at last prohibited under penalty of a
heavy fine and imprisonment. Therefore, if Grantley should return to his old practices, it would
be a comparatively easy matter to convict him. Nick and his assistants made it their business
to keep a close but unapproosive watch over the liberated surgeons. Grantley and his lieutenant,
young Dr. Seabold, accompanied by the nurse, Miss Rawlinson,
returned to the former's house immediately after their release.
Most of the others scattered.
Some of them going so far as to change their names.
The detectives kept track of them all,
but did not attempt to interfere with them in any way.
Nick was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.
If they had learned their lesson,
they did not need to fear any further action.
If, on the other hand, they should attempt to resume their questionable or criminal methods,
it would then be time enough to act.
For some weeks, nothing had developed to indicate that Grantley was doing anything at all.
He seemed to have no patience and to be seeking none.
At the end of that interval, Nick Carter had been surprised with the visit of Dr. Vanderpull.
After the eminent physician's departure, the detective remained buried in thought for half an hour or more.
The situation was unique.
Grantley's action in approaching such a commanding figure as Jay Hackley Baldwin,
at such a time and under such circumstances was little short of staggering,
and Nick could easily understand Dr. Vanderpult's anxiety.
The Fifth Avenue practitioner had hit upon what seemed to be the two alternative explanations,
at least the two most likely ones.
Either one was quite possible.
There was no doubt about Hiram Grantley's daring or his confidence in himself.
His great ability was unquestioned, and his release had probably convinced him
that he was safe enough in going to almost any lengths.
Therefore, the truth seemed to lie close to either one of the two suppositions, one of them harmless, the other afraided with direful possibilities.
The harmless one, as Dr. Vanderpull had pointed out, had to do with the possible and very natural desire on Grantley's part to regain the confidence and prestige which he had forfeited.
It was not difficult to understand that he might really believe himself capable of restoring the blind financier's sight, and if he could get a chance to do that, it would mean a great deal of money in his pocket, an immense amount of free advertising.
and resultant modification of public opinion.
So far, all was plain sailing.
Baldwin had been blind for many years to be sure,
without previously receiving any such offer from Grantley,
but the fact could be explained away without much difficulty.
The surgeon had never been in such a predicament before,
had never been so badly in need of such a boost as this would give him
if he could make good.
On the other hand, they allumed the sinister possibility
that Grantley had something worse up his sleeve.
In other words, his intention might be criminal,
and he might be plotting harm to the multimillioner.
But in what way, and for what reason?
Surely, if he intended to go back to the methods
which had been so unsparingly exposed and condemned,
he did not need to choose so shining a mark for his unlawful experiments.
On the contrary, it would seem to be to his interest to aim low
and to continue to pick out victims who were comparatively unimportant to the world at large.
Besides, he must have known that a man of Baldwin's wealth and standing
would not place himself in the hands of anyone without instituting the most rigid inquiries.
His hofer could not fail to be discussed by those close to the great financier,
and it would be sure to cause a sensation.
Why, had he braved all the dangers involved,
and defied all of the many obstacles which lay between a notorious and discredited surgeon
and one of the most carefully guarded of Wall Street's money kings,
was it merely because he longed to come back to re-establish himself by means of one brilliant coup,
or did this motive lie far deeper than that in some dark corner of his cruel nature?
And if the latter was the case, what could that motive possibly be?
Was it financial or personal character?
It was difficult to see how grantly could hope to benefit in a financial way by harming Baldwin.
The crooked surgeon might have larger interest in the money world than anyone knew of,
but to strike at one of the big magnets was to precipitate widespread shrinkage in values,
perhaps a panic on the floor of the stock exchange. On the whole, therefore, if Grantley's
motives was an evil one, the chances weathered it involved revenge of one kind another. It might
be private revenge, a desire on Grantley's power to retaliate for some real or fancy wrong done
to him. Or it was conceivable that one or more of Baldwin's rivals in the game of high finance
had hired the rascally surgeon to put him out of commission. As a matter of fact, though,
Nick was not inclined to put much faith in the latter theory.
If Grantley's object had to do with revenge of some kind,
the chances were that strictly private reasons were involved.
A painstaking examination of Grantley's record might reveal those reasons,
but the detective was not hopeful on that score.
The time at his disposal was too short for one thing.
For another, since it was obvious that Baldwin did not know of any particular reason
for distrusting the surgeon,
aside from his tendency to cut up his east side patients,
The cause of any enmity which might exist seem to be an obscure one, the wise and wherefores of which were locked in Brantley's own breast.
If that was the case, an investigation would one day result in a waste of precious time.
Consequently, Nick decided to take the bull by the horns.
First, he would call on Grantley himself and put him through a rigid cross-examination in an effort to worm a secret out of him if possible.
Second, no matter whether he was successful in this first interview or not, he intended to see the financier and add his influence to Dr. Vanderpoles in a final attempt to dissuade Baldwin from submitting to the proposed operation.
The end of Chapter 13
Chapter 14 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Libri Box recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 14
A bold move
The first part of Nick's plan
involved a certain amount of risk
It takes courage to beard a man of Dr. Grantley's type
In his own lair, especially after a narrow escape
From annulation by acid in that same layer.
Nick Carter never allowed such considerations
to weigh with him, however,
and the most he consented to do
was to take his first assistant chick
with him when he set out for the Bronx.
Hoff opened the door a crack
in accordance with his usual suspicious
attitude toward visitors. The detective promptly put his foot into the opening.
As Dr. Grantley-Inhoff, Nick asked, the seventh ways was a study.
Amazement at the detective's daring and hatred of him for the part he had played were both written there.
I see he is. Nick went on without waiting for the belated reply.
Kindly let us in and informed the doctor that I wish to see him at once on important business.
The German hesitated, but presently the door swung open and they were invited
in a surly tone to enter.
After leading the way to the reception room,
Hoff went upstairs.
Five minutes later, Dr. Grantley put in an appearance.
You're certainly a cool one, Carter, was his quitting.
What the devil are you doing here?
I thought you had sense enough to let me alone
after that farce of a trial.
What new maggot is busy in your head now?
I have left you alone all this week,
haven't I? Nick asked in turn.
And I would have continued to do so
if you hadn't taken such an extraordinary step.
as near distorted Crantly's face.
Ah!
So you have heard of the Baldwin matter, have you?
He asked.
Well, what about it?
What business is it of yours?
I shall make it my business just so far as I see fit
Grantley, was a quiet answer.
Knowing that you're a moderate heart,
do you suppose I'm going to stand by and with folded hands
and let you get one of the most valuable lives in the country under your knife,
without doing everything in my power to prevent it?
But it doesn't happen to be in your power, my friend.
You have no standing at all in this affair.
It's purely a matter for Mr. Baldwin to decide,
and he has chosen, after a searching investigation,
to put himself into my hands.
I'm confident that I can restore his sight,
and to that end I obtained an interview with him.
He knows all about me,
more than you do in all probability,
and there's nothing underhand about it.
I suppose Vanderpull has run to you with the story,
but I care nothing for Vanderpull's opinion.
I have violated professional etiquette, of course, by openly offering my services,
but I've never cared a row of pins for such rules.
They are beneath me.
Besides, I had everything to gain, and little and nothing to lose.
Your confounded meddling has played the dews with my reputation,
if it hasn't done anything else.
I saw a chance to get on top again and make all those fools who have been attacking me, sing another tune.
That's all that is about it, and you haven't a leg to stand on.
That sounds plausible enough,
it was meant to sound, the detective remarked.
But are you sure you never lost any money through Baldwin or on any of his talks?
The question came out like the snap of a web,
and Nick's eyes poured into the surgeon as he watched for its effect.
Apparently, however, it had none.
Grantley did not drop his eyes for a moment.
He returned the detective's glance, eye for eye, and not a muscle of his face moot.
Guess again, Carter?
He said after a pause.
He shrugged his shoulders now, and a triumphant grin overspread his face.
"'You thought you had me, didn't you?' he went on.
"'Well, your little third-degree went for nothing.
As I have said before, it is none of your business,
but I am willing to stretch a point in order to get rid of you.
Therefore, I'll go so far as to assure you solemnly that there is absolutely nothing of that sort,
or of anything else beyond what I have stated about this forthcoming operation in Mr. Baldwin's eyes.
it'll be perfectly straight, and you may be sure that I will give him the benefit of every bit of skill and experience I possess.
Does that satisfy you?
It would, if I had any confidence in your word solemn otherwise grantly.
As it happens, however, I did not ask you for any such assurance in regard to the proposed operation in Baldwin's eyes.
You couldn't inflict much damage on them, no matter how criminal your motive might be.
But how about some other operation or experiment along your favourite life?
will you declare as earnestly that you have no intention of playing any tricks of that sort again Brantley's eyes met the detectives without the slightest attempt at avation
nothing would give me greater pleasure than to kick you out of this house for suggesting such a thing Carter he said with an obvious effort to control himself but i suppose I'll have to humor you again
Suspicion is your stalk and tread and if you can't find a legitimate suspicion you are evidently content with any old kind no matter how insulting a ridiculous
Now, my spying friend, I swear that I have never had any thoughts of conducting any experiments in vivisection on Jay Hackley Baldwin.
Nothing but a lunatic would.
A sane man would as soon set fire to a sheaf of thousand-dollar bills, which represented the bulk of his wealth.
Why, man, you're letting your silly fears run away with you.
Baldwin has promised me a quarter of a million dollars if this operation is a success,
and he would have given me twice as much, four times as much.
just as readily if I had insisted upon it.
Do you suppose for a moment that I would try any tricks on him,
as he call it, with such a reward in prospect?
Where's all the superhuman cleverness of yours,
of which I've heard so much and seen so little?
Nick refused to take offense, however,
and he was not daunted in the least.
He returned again and again to attack from different angles,
but was at last obliged to give it up.
Grantley stood his crown throughout,
and none of Nick's questions seemed to cause him any embarrassment.
If Grantley was plotting against the financier in any way, Nick had to confess to himself that he was about the coolest and most accomplished liar that a long experience had brought to light.
Curiously enough, the only tangible thing which kept Nick's suspicion alive was the fact that Brantley returned his glances so defiantly.
He got the impression that the surgeon was forcing himself to do so by sheer power of will.
It seemed a little overdone.
At last, Nick was compelled to withdraw with as good grace as he was.
could none the wiser for the interview. Grantley lost no opportunity to jeer at him, but made
no hostile demonstrations of any other sort. At the first opportunity, Nick called upon the
blind milliner by appointment. He was not able, however, to give any definite or compelling
reasons for his attitude, and as he had feared, all of his arguments were in vain.
Walvin admitted the truth of many of the detective's points, but they had no weight with him.
He plainly showed his knowledge of Grantley's past unscrupulousness, but declared that he was willing to take whatever risk might be involved.
Nothing would shake his conviction that the surgeon would not dare to injure him in any way,
and he returned repeatedly to Grantley's own strongest argument, namely that the vivisectionist had in the huge fee at stake,
the greatest possible incentive to do his best.
Finally, the millionaire thanked Nick for his interest, but announced his intention of submitting to the operation at the time appointed.
i'd give millions if necessary to any one who could give me back my sight mr carter he said as nick rose to go and the character and previous record of dr grantly are matters of supreme indifference to me
if he were guilty of all the crimes in the penal code i should still put myself into his hands where every conceivable consideration of self-interest would operate to make him hold me sacred and to give me the utmost of which he is capable as yet nick had nothing to show for his pains but he had but he had to show for his pains but he had to make him hold me sacred and to give me the utmost of which he is capable as yet nick had nothing to show for his pains but he had had to
did not give up. The end of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter. This
Library Walk's recording is in the public domain. Read by Yoganand. The Stolen Brain. Chapter 15.
Maddening suspense. The detective gave hurried orders to his assistance and set them to work
on another investigation into Brantley's past with a view to ascertain if possible the surgeon's
experiences in Wall Street.
Unfortunately, nothing of any importance was unearthed.
It was learned that Dr. Grantley had speculated heavily at one time years before
and was supposed to have been unlucky in some of his investments, but the exact facts
could not be obtained.
Nick felt it his duty to communicate the little he had learned to the blind magnet
and did so, but without result.
Baldwin's hope had been aroused, and he was pathetically eager to undergo the operation.
He sent word to Nick that he could not see how the latter's information affected the situation.
Many men had burned their fingers in blind speculation, he declared, and added his conviction
that a detective, with the best intentions in the world, was making a mountain out of a child's sandpile.
Still, Nick did not despair, and the probe went on.
The next day passed without bringing anything more definite to light, and the morning of the operation dawned.
The blind milliner was Alder in Grantley's hands, having a little bit more than.
gone to the private hospital that evening before, in order to become settled in its new environment,
and to have a chance to quiet down before the fateful hour arrived. He had no immediate
relatives, and would allow no one else to dictate to him. Against Dr. Vanderpult's advice,
and in spite of the physician's anxious pleadings, he insisted upon trusting Grantley implicitly.
It's all and nothing with me, he persisted in saying, this operation is altogether too
important to me to allow its success to be threatened in any way. Grantley knows he is
the suspicion, but I do not suspect him in the least, and I shall consent to nothing that
would lead him to think so. He doesn't want you, or any other hostile personality present,
and I don't blame him. Besides, it might affect his nerves disastrously, and any nurse
you would be likely to introduce would be bound to reflect the same antagonistic attitude
toward him and his staff. I won't have my chances jeopardized by any such childish
his jealousies.
Dr. Vanderpull threw up his hands at that, but Baldwin laid down the law still further.
He made it plain that he not only meant to place himself in Grantley's hands for the operation
itself, but that he did not wish any interference afterward, until such a time the surgeon
should pronounce him ready to receive visitors.
The financier stubborn attitude caused Nick Carter many misgivings, but the detective saw that
his own hands were tied.
He could not force his way into the house in the face of Grantley's enmity toward him
at such a critical time.
What was more, he could not even keep an effective watch over the premises,
although that would have been small comfort at best.
The house immediately adjoining Grantleys,
which Nick had previously occupied for a time,
had been regularly rented since then,
so that that vantage point was no longer available.
The blind master of millions had by his own act,
completely isolated himself from his friends for an indefinite period,
and put himself unreservedly in the power of the rascally Grantley,
is no less unscrupulous assistant Dr. Sebald and the heart-faced nurse Kate Rawlinson.
Moreover, even the protection of publicity was denied to Bolvin's anxious, well-wishers.
They would have preferred, for the sake of the effect upon Grantley, to have all the papers
publish the fact. They would have liked to see reporters calling at the private hospital at frequent intervals
in the hope that public knowledge and interest would deter the sergeant from crime if he contemplated
anything of the sort. But Bolvin had also made that impossible, and for
a very good reason. He realized that there would be the greatest alarm in financial circles
if it became known in advance that he was about to submit to an operation at the hands of
Dr. Hiram Grant Lee, and in order to protect his own interest and those of his friends, he
had taken the most elaborate precautions to keep his war-abode secret. The situation was
maddening, but it could not be helped. Ten o'clock came and went. Levin struck,
and then twelve. Dr. Vanderpul was almost beside himself with three.
suspense. He longed to go to Grantley's house and inquire about the success of the operation,
but he did not dare for fear the secret would be revealed through the fact that he was
known to be Jay Hackley-Bolvin's physician. Besides, such operations often required several hours.
Consequently, the doctor haunted Nick Carter's house instead. Finally, at one o'clock,
Nick telephoned to Grantley's house. Hoff, the German man-servant, answered the phone.
Nick gave his name and asked by Grantley's patient.
The German replied that his employer had been expecting such an inquiry and had instructed him to say that the operation had been successful in every respect and that Mr. Baldwin was resting quietly.
It would be several days, however, before the patient could safely receive a callers and meanwhile he would, of course, remain at the private hospital.
Dr. Grantley did not care to answer in person.
There was an undercurrent of hostility and contempt in the manner in which the message was delivered, but that was to be expected.
It did not necessarily mean anything, for Nick could hope for nothing else from Grantley or any of his employees.
The detective could do nothing but formally thank his informant and hang up to receiver.
He repeated the message, word for word, to Dr. Vanderpull and the two consulted.
Obviously, they knew no more than they had known before.
The message might be alive from end to end, it might be partially true, or all true,
and there was no way of finding out until Grantley was ready to tell them,
unless they went counter to the millionaire's express injunctions.
Would they be justified in doing so?
That was one of the most important of the many problems which confronted them.
There had been something resembling a ring of truth
about Hoff's report of the success of the operation,
but Nick had already foreseen the possibility that Grantley
might take a fiendish delight in restoring the milliners' sight
and then injure him terribly, if not actually kill him, in some other way.
To have to wait for days without knowing the true situation,
situation seemed more than flesh could bear.
On the other hand, if Brantley had really performed the operation in good faith, a forcible
entry and examination of the patient might work grave injury.
Baldwin would be kept in a dark room for some time under such circumstances, and rest
and quiet were an important part of the cure.
It would excite him greatly to have his wishes disregarded, and Grantley would doubtless resist
such an invasion to the last, very likely to the extent of arming himself and his staff.
The detective and Vanderpult realized all this and finally came to the conclusion, with the greatest reluctance, that they must let matters take the courts for a few days.
Some kind of an operation had doubtless been performed on the financier, and it was extremely improbable that their interference at that late hour could materially benefit him.
Apparently, the most that could be done involved a more or less long-distance oversight of Grantley's doings.
If any suspicious departures or other questionable activities were noticed, it would be time to step in, but not otherwise.
Time passed. Repeated inquiries were made, both by phone and in person.
Not until the third day did Prantly condescend to see the detective when the latter called.
And then the interview was as fruitless as he could well have been.
The surgeon assured Nick that Baldwin was improving constantly, but he peremptorily refused to permit his person to be seen.
Moreover, he would make no definite statement as to the date of Bolvin's return home.
To be sure, he did give the detective a message which perpetrated to come from the
jealously guarded financier.
It was to the effect that all was well, and that Nick and Dr. Vanderpool were not to worry,
but that might easily have been made up out of whole cloth.
The sergeant's manner was as irreproachable as ever, and Nick had to confess to himself once
more that if Grantley was playing a part, it was a masterly one.
Thus, a week of harrowing uncertainty passed.
At the end of it came the crash.
The end of chapter 15.
Chapter 16 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 16.
This is terrible, terrible.
There had been nothing at any time which Nick could properly see.
upon as an excuse for action, much as he longed to end the terrible suspense.
Dr. Grantley had the whip hand throughout, and the isolation of the financier, alarming as it was
under the circumstances, was nothing more than any surgeon might be expected to insist upon
in such a case. The only departure from that rule occurred on the fifth day when Jay Hackley
Bolvin's confidential secretary received a check, directing him to fill out a check for
$250,000, payable to hit him A. Grantley, and send it to the latter
house in the Bronx. The secretary, who was necessarily in the secret, immediately
telephoned to Nick. The detective responded at once and carefully examined the note. A
microscopic comparison with various documents left no reasonable doubt that the message
had actually been written and signed by the Melina. Not only that, the handwriting
revealed no sign of tremulousness or any other indication that Bolvin had not been
himself when he wrote it. Forgery was plainly out of the question. Nevertheless, both Nick and
the secretary could not help feeling a profound disquiet. The affair struck them as decidedly
irregular. It suggested an unseemly haste and Grantley's part to collect the promised fee for the
operation at a time when Baldwin was still in his power, and no one on the outside was in possession
of any real evidence that the conditions had been complied with, namely that the operation
had been a success, irrespective of his success or failure, however. If Grant Lee had in any
manner influenced Baldwin to take this step, he had acted in a way that no reputable surgeon
would have dreamed of doing. On the other hand, it was quite possible, of course,
that Bolbin had acted purely on his own initiative in order to show by his prompt payment
that gratitude he felt for his returning sight. It was another delicate and trying situation.
In the end, Nick advised the secretary to make out the check and send it as requested.
There were no obstacles in the way of this. For the milliner, who had the utmost confidence
and his secretary had signed several checks in blank before entering the private hospital.
Nick reasoned that if all was straight, the secretary might get into serious trouble with his
dictatorial employer if he failed to carry out the latter's instructions to the letter.
Besides, a quarter of a million was only a drop in the bucket compared with the immense bulk of
Baldwin's fortune. If the millionaire had come to any harm, the money loss would quickly pale into
insignificance.
Lastly, the giving of a check and the payment of it are two very different things.
Payment of it could be stopped if necessary, or on the other hand the rapidity with which Grantley might try to realize it, or the use to which he might put it, could be turned to advantage as an indication of the game being played.
It went against the grain, but the check was made out and sent without further delay.
This was on a Friday.
Nick At once set a watch over both Grantley's bank and Bolman's, but they closed on Saturday without any attempt having been made to catch or deposit the big check.
The delay gave the detective a more favorable impression than anything else had done,
for it seemed to show that Grantley was in no hurry to take advantage of the payment,
and that implied that the surgeon had no intention of trying to disappear.
But Nick soon changed his mind.
Early Saturday morning, just a week after the operation,
Patsy Garvan, was in duty as near the Grantley house as he dared to go.
He saw a taxi drive-up.
Almost immediately Dr. Grantley and his assistant, young Dr. Seabult helped the millionaire out of the house,
into the machine.
Baldwin seemed to be rather feeble or uncertain in his movements,
and there were black patches over his eyes.
Patsy was not near enough to ascertain the number of the taxi,
which at one started down toone at a rapid rate of speed.
Unfortunately, too, there was no other vehicle at hand.
It was hopeless for Patsy to attempt to follow,
and consequently, he did the only thing that was left for him to do.
He ran to the subway terminal, two or three blocks away,
and took a downtown train.
Twenty-five minutes later, he alighted at the station nearest to Baldwin's house and started on a sprint toward Fifth Avenue.
He hoped that the millionaire had been taken home, and when he arrived at his destination, he learned to his great relief that such was a case.
But the next piece of information he obtained gave him a shock that he was never to forget.
He was given to understand that Mr. Baldwin had arrived in a most alarming condition, and all alone, the financier had presented a startling appearance and was obviously in a dazed condition.
He had not recognized anyone and had to be carried to his room.
Dr. Vanderpul had been summoned at once but had not yet arrived.
The taxi was still standing at the curb and the driver was inside, having been detained by Baldwin's secretary.
Pat's again admittance by using Nick's name and soon obtain an interview of a few moments with a distracted secretary Frank Craven.
Thank heaven you are here, the latter exclaimed.
I've telephoned to Mr. Carter.
This is terrible, Garvan.
Terrible!
Mr. Baldwin does not recognize me.
me. He's in a state of collapse and doesn't seem to have a spark of intelligence. He's whimpering
like a baby up there. I made the driver wait so that Mr. Carter could see him. He says that two
men who answer the description of Grantley and that precious assistant of his helped Mr. Baldwin
into the car. Yes, I saw that, Patsy interrupted. But where did they leave it? At Lenox
Avenue and 125th according to the chauffeur, see what you can get out of the men. His downstairs
with the servants. Heaven only knows what those fiends have done, Garvin, and they must be found
if the whole world has to be turned upside down to do it. Do what you can, everything you can. I must go
back to poor Mr. Baldwin. With that, Craven turned around and sprang up the stairs. Patsy hunted up
a telephone and called his chief's number. Chick answered after being called to the instrument by the
detective's butler. Garvan explained this situation in a few words, and his fellow assistant
promised to speed up to Grantley's house at once and try to intercept Hoff and the nurse if they had not already vanished.
It was also arranged that Ida Jones, Nick's pretty woman assistant, should accompany chick in the car as far as 125th Street, where she would drop off in order to search for the trail there.
Patsy knew that minutes might be priceless things just then, and he felt sure that Nick would sanction the moves made.
As soon as he hung up the receiver, he sought the basement, where he found the driver of the taxi surrounded by a knot of
excited servants. The end of chapter 16. Chapter 17 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby Vox recording is in the public domain. Read by Yoganan.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 17. The looted cranium. The man seemed reliable and he told a
perfectly straight story. He informed Patsy that he drove for a garage on Boston Road in the
Bronx and that he had never been called to Dr. Grantley's house before that morning.
The manager had received the order and sent him out.
Patsy did not see fit to tell the chauffeur that he had seen the arrival of the machine
at Grantleys.
He allowed the man to tell his story in his own way and found it accurate so far as his
own observation went.
The driver declared that three men had entered their cab.
He described them with sufficient accuracy and reported that the elder of the two men
who had subsequently left the cab had given him Mr. Baldwin's address.
when the machine reached the corner of linox avenue and one hundred and twenty-fifth street however the same man grantly in short had ordered him to stop the two had alighted without explanation and told him to take the third man to the address
the chauffeur had thought it rather strange but they gave him no time to ask any questions instead they had walked rapidly away to the eastward along one hundred and twenty-fifth after noting that and glancing in toward his remaining fair who seemed sunk in a sort of
stupor, the driver had continued on his way without incident until he had arrived at Baldwin's
house. He had informed his passenger that their destination had been reached. Then, failing to obtain
an intelligent answer, he had rung the doorbell and notified the man's servant who answered
that, that he had an old gentleman in the cab who had been sent to that address.
The servant had gone out to the machine and recognized his master. Pandemonium had then broke
loose in the house and the secretary had been summoned. That was the gist of the chauffeur's
story and Patsy's questionings failed to bring out anything else of importance. He took the man's
name and address and the number of the taxi. Finally, he instructed the driver to remain where he
was until Nick could question him if desired. When Patsy returned to the first floor,
he found that Dr. Vanderpool had arrived. Nick put in an appearance a few moments later,
approved of the measures Patsy had taken and sent his assistant to the point at which Garnley and Seabald
disappeared. Thus far, Nick was necessarily in the dark as to just what had happened.
to the milliner. For all he knew, Baldwin might be suffering merely from a premature removal
to his home. The detective's instinct told him, however, that something far more sinister
than that had occurred. If there had been nothing wrong, Grantley could never have deserted
his patient in any such way and left him to be taken home in that hapazard fashion, as if he
had been a drunkard picked up on the street. The fears which Nick had tried so long to fight
down rose in their might and mastered him at last. He fell sure that,
something frightful had happened, but he was no nearer an understanding of Grantley's
motive than he had been in the beginning. The two fugitives, for such he assumed them to be,
must be caught at any cost, and to that end the police must be notified and the general
alarm sent out. Nick decided, though, that it would be best to await the result of Dr. Vanderpull's
preliminary examination before taking that step, especially as the delay out not to be long.
He had one of the servants
Take him upstairs to the corridor outside of Baldwin's suite
And sent word to the physician that he was there
After a wait of ten or fifteen minutes,
Vanderpull himself emerged hurriedly
His manner was greatly agitated
And his eyes had a look of horror in them
He took Nick by the arm and nervously drew him aside
Good heavens Carter
He whispered hoarsely
This is worse than I feared
Grantley is a fiend
Nothing less
I would not have believed it
He has actually done something to Baldwin then? Nick demanded quickly.
He has done his worst, was the grave reply.
You mean, the physician looked about him.
His grip on Nick's arm became painful, and he leaned closer.
Mr. Baldwin is a hopeless idiot, I fear, he announced in a broken whisper.
The detective gave a gasp of sympathy and recoiled a step.
An idiot? Literally, he asked.
Vanderpull nodded.
There seems to be no doubt about it, unfortunately, he said.
A second operation was performed several days ago on his head.
I shall send for my x-ray apparatus at once,
and until the photographs are developed,
which will be done with all possible speed,
I cannot, of course, speak with authority.
The evidences of the operation are unmistakable, however,
and his distressing symptoms alone are sufficient to show in general what has happened.
Carter, one of the most powerful of a money king,
lies there in that room conscious,
but better after all real intelligence.
I believe he would play with a doll if he would give it to him,
or a bright-colored ball.
And yet it isn't enough to say that he has only the mind of a child.
That wouldn't be fair to the children,
unless one had referenced only to newborn babies.
Heaven help him.
His is now only the mind of an imbecile,
or in other words, no mind at all that is worthy of the name.
Is it possible?
It's more than that.
It is true, man?
That monster has stolen more,
infinitely more than all of Baldwin's wealth.
He has stolen part of his brain,
and no power on earth can restore it.
Words were powerless to express the detective's horror of the crime.
His face showed the depth of his feelings, however,
as well as of his determination to bring the merciless surgeon to justice.
And the eyes? he asked after a pause.
Oh, Grantley, his kept his promise, curse him.
That really makes it seem worse.
He has played to his heart's content with one of the most precious lives we have today.
The devilish irony of it.
He has given Baldwin his sight, collected his huge fees,
and then weddews his patient to a mere brainless hulk.
The villainy of it almost passes belief.
Nick could only agree his blood running cold at the thought.
The next moment it surged feverishly through his wanes.
He vowed to catch grantly and his accomplices again
if it should be his last act on earth.
He waited to hear no more,
but sought the telephone and called the police headquarters.
One of the deputy commissioners was on duty at the time,
and Nick soon had the satisfaction of being assured
that all of the missionary of the department
would be put into motion at once.
No more than an hour had elapsed since Grantley and Seabald
had alighted from the taxi in Harlem.
Surely they could not have put any great distance
between their pursuers and themselves.
Besides, Patsy and Ida Jones
were doubtless, already at work at the scene of their disappearance.
Nick had barely hung up the receiver before the phone bell rang.
As none of the servants was at hand, the detective answered it.
He was not surprised to recognize Chick's voice on the wire.
Hello, Chick, he said. What's a word?
The ruse or empty, chief, was a disappointed answer.
I'm telephoning from Grantley's house now.
I found it empty and broken.
The people next door tell me that Hoff and the nurse skipped out another taxi
not more than ten minutes after Mr. Baldwin was taken away.
Which way did they go?
Not, curiously enough,
in the opposite direction from that taken by the others.
Have you found out whether the car came from the same garage?
I just telephoned.
The garage people say they sent only one car to this address this morning.
Well, follow description of the German and Miss Rawlinson down to police headquarters.
I've already notified Deputy Commissioner Leeds,
and the hunt is on in earnest.
Then try to find the garage.
call up my house every half hour or so, I may want you.
The detective was about to leave the Baldwin residence when he was informed that a messenger
had just brought him a note, directed in care of Baldwin's secretary, and had left without
waiting for an answer. The note proved to be simply an envelope, directed in Dr. Grantley's
characteristic hand and containing a number of small fragments of torn paper. The detective
had pieced together only a few of the bits when he gave an exclamation of amazement.
Grant Lee had sent him Baldwin's check for the quarter of a million dollars torn into pieces.
The end of Chapter 17.
Chapter 18 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby-Wox recording is in the public domain.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 18.
What did it mean?
What in the world did it mean?
This new development was certainly startling in the extreme
and even more incomprehensible in its way, if that were possible, than the appalling crime itself.
It was unnecessary for Nick to piece the check together in its entirety in order to be fairly
certain that it had not been cashed.
Anyone with the slightest knowledge of banking methods would have understood at a glance
that the check had either never been deposited or else that it had been stolen afterward.
There is no legitimate way in which a payer's check can fall into the hands of the payee
after the money has been paid, except when payer and payee are one.
and the same. Moreover, in the ordinary codes, supposing Grantley had cashed or deposited the
cheque at once, it would not even have returned to Bolvin in such a short time. To make absolutely
sure that it had not been stolen from the bank after being deposited, Nick arranged all the
fragments not because he believed it necessary, but for the purpose of eliminating any such
possibility at once. As he had anticipated, the back of the cheque toll, neither endorsement,
nor bank stamp of any sort. Grantley had deliberately turned to the money.
on up the equivalent of $250,000, a fortune in itself, and sent the fragments to his greatest
enemy as a challenge of some sort. But why? The Surgeon's Act promised to prove itself one of
the most difficult puzzles of a case that had all along been full of unusual problems.
Both Grantley and the tragically obstinate Melina himself had scored most heavily against
the detectives when they had argued that the promised reward was so tempting that it made
double-dealing out of the question, and yet Grantley had now spurned that reward in the most
contemptuous manner after he had apparently brought pressure to baron Bolvin in order to obtain
the check two days before. At this point, Nick's thoughts took a new turn. How was a note to the
millionaire secretary to be explained? He asked himself. He still felt sure that Bolvin had
written it, but if so, it was obvious that it had not been written since the operation on the
financier's head. If Dr. Vanderpull were not gravely mistaken, the milliner was not in a condition
to know his own name, much less to write and sign a note without a tremor or a single false
stroke. Had the second operation been performed in the last two or three days? Apparently not,
for Vanderpull was authority for the statement that the marks of it were several days old.
Nick had the note with him, and he examined it anew. It stood every test as before,
but there was one fact about it which the detective had previously noted became significant.
It was not dated.
That had not appeared to mean anything of importance up to that time,
but in the light of recent revolutions, it suggested that the note had been returned
soon after Baldwin's arrival at the private hospital before either operation had taken place.
If that had been the case, no element of gratitude could have entered into the matter,
and not only that Baldwin was a shrewd man of affairs,
and would never have consented to write such a note except in return for value received.
In other words, it became startlingly clear to the detective
that the financier had not been himself when he had returned to Craven.
But what about the sureness of the handwriting
which had always been characteristic of Baldwin despite his handicap of blindness?
That would have puzzled almost any other detective in the country,
but he did not long stand in Nick Carter's way.
His mind played over the various possible theories with lightning rapidness.
and quickly focused upon one which alone answered every requirement.
The note must have been written and signed at Grantley's dictation
while his distinguished patient was under hypnotic influence.
Men of Baldwin's type are not usually susceptible to hypnotism,
but the financier had trusted Grantley implicitly
and doubtless had never known the base used to which the surgeon had put his confidence.
He probably had been unaware that he was being hypnotized
and, of course, had had no recollection of writing the note
when Grantley had restored him to consciousness.
As for the normal character of the handwriting,
that was easily explained.
Baldwin had been accustomed for years to write without seeing what he wrote.
Therefore, the peculiar condition of the hypnotic sleep
would not have modified his handwriting to any such extent
as would have been the case with an ordinary person.
In fact, they would not necessarily have modified it at all,
any more than they modified one's voice of walk or manner of using the hands.
All of this, however,
failed to explain the trouble grandly had evidently taken to procure the note and check
and his strange action and subsequently destroying the latter.
He had laid himself open to suspicion by his unprofessional eagerness to collect his fee
and seemingly all to no purpose unless he had merely decided to keep the detective and Dr. Vanderpull guessing.
But surely his motive went deeper than that.
It now appeared obvious that his motive had been one of revenge,
but that did not account for the failure to keep the huge sum he had obtained.
He was believed to be a comparatively poor man, one to whom a cool quarter of a million would have meant a good deal.
Whatever is the reason for committing so ruthless and revolting a crime, why had he not kept his ill-earned fee?
It could hardly be that he had any moral scruples about doing so.
Nick had sometimes suspected that Grantley was merely the tool of one or more of the millionaire's financial rivals,
but the fact that he had looked elsewhere for his pay need not have prevented him from putting his hand into the pockets of his employers.
and his victim. The most likely theory seemed to be that the surgeon had realized too late
that he was probably being watched and would not be allowed to make away with the proceeds of the
check. In that case, he might have seen that it was practically valueless to him and suddenly
decided to tear it up and send it to the detective, a spectacular act of defiance that would
have been characteristic enough of him. But even that explanation involved many difficulties.
Grant Lee was not the man to have failed to look ahead and take account of all the difficulties in advance.
That was one objection.
And there were others almost equally as strong.
On the whole, therefore, the detective was obliged to admit to himself that this last tangle in the line would be far from easy to unravel.
Fortunately, however, it might be ignored for the present and later on it was possible that it could be cut out instead of untangled.
In other words, whatever the motive, the crime had undoneged.
doubtedly been committed by Grantley and his assistant with the connivance of the nurse at least.
Consequently, the hunt for motives could well wait until after the hunt for the men themselves had been carried to a successful conclusion.
Grantley and Seabald had obtained very little start, hardly more, if any, than they would if they had attempted to cash the check.
The fact told heavily in the detective's favour, but on the other hand, Nick realized that he was not dealing with ordinary criminals.
The very fact that Grantley had been satisfied with such an apparently unsatisfactory getaway,
knowing that the driver of the taxi would doubtless tell all he knew as soon as he was questioned,
indicated that the fugitives were either plain fools or else that they had something up their sleeves,
which gave them unusual confidence in the ability to escape the net.
Grantley was certainly not a fool, and Nick was prepared for some extraordinary matching of wits.
He left the mansion of the stricken milliner and set to work at once.
the end of chapter 18
chapter 19 of the stolen brain
by Nicholas Carter
this Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain
read by Yoganand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 19
A great stroke of luck
hard thinking and tireless
following of trails could usually be counted on
to explain the successes
earned by Nick Carter and his assistance
but sometimes plain
bullheaded luck as Patsy
Garvan would probably have called it, proved to be the determining factor.
That was the case in this instance.
Nick's other assistant, Jack Weiss, the well-to-do young society man, had had nothing to do with the Grantley case at all.
He had been doing a little pussy-footing in the Harlem section, in connection with a totally different investigation,
and was about to enter the subway chaos at Lenox Avenue and 125th Street when he saw Dr. Grantley and Dr. Seabald a light from a taxi.
He knew them both by sight.
They, however, were probably unaware of his existence, and even if they had known of him,
they would have been unable to recognize him owing to the fact that he was disguised.
Jack was thoroughly familiar with the circumstances connected with the millionaire's headstrong acceptance of Grantley's offer to operate,
since he had heard it discussed several times by his chief and his fellow assistants.
As a result, his curiosity was aroused at once, and he managed to shift his position in such a way
that he caught a glimpse of the man who remained in the cab.
The black patches over the eyes convinced him that it was Baldwin, and his familiarity with the financier's features as reproduced on the newspapers and magazines confirmed the impression.
Here's a queer go, thought the young detective, as a taxi continued southward without the two sergeants.
Looks as if they're sending Mr. Baldwin home alone, and they act as if they had been stealing sheep.
I wonder what the Dickens is in the wind now.
Jack, old chap, maybe you have stumbled on something that needs looking into.
I think you'd better keep in their wake for a while.
Grantley and his assistant were some distance away
before Weiss arrived at this decision
but he had no difficulty in keeping inside of them
despite the fact that they were proceeding eastward at a brisk pace.
They had probably hoped to give the impression
that they were born for the 125th Street Station
but they were a considerable distance from that
when they hailed a disengaged taxi.
They jumped into the cab as soon as it came to a stop
and were soon speeding back toward Lenox Avenue again.
jack gave an exclamation of disgust before he espied a garage a few doors beyond and on the other side of the street he sprinted across narrowly escaped a couple of trolley cars and his luck would have it found a taxi standing outside the establishment
it had just arrived and the driver was in the act of alighting no you don't shouted jack wrenching one of the doors open and leaping in two dollars extra if you keep that great taxi in sight the chauffeur looked in the direction that wise pointed saw the machine indicated and nodded
his head. In another moment, he was back in his seat and the cab was in motion. The six-sense
that placed so large part in successful detection had told Jack Weiss that something was wrong. Grantley
and Seabald gave every indication that they were doubling and twisting for the purpose
of throwing off subsequent pursuers. The taxi took the shortest road to the Pennsylvania station,
where they alighted and dismissed the cab. Jack's machine drew up a few moments later, and its
occupants slipped the fare in the promised tip into the driver's hand and told him not to
to wait. Wise had made some slight but effective changes in his appearance on the way, and he had no fear of being recognized as one of those who had witnessed the unceremonious parting with Bolvin.
Moreover, every advantage was his, for the fugitives could not possibly be prepared for this accidental pursuit.
All of their clever precautions were evidently being taken with a view to confusing the detectives later on when their anticipated inquiries were being made.
Nick's assistant trailed the two surgeons to a toilet room where they don't disguises.
Their makeups proved to be excellent and might well have baffled Jack if he had not taken care to avoid mistakes by counting those who went in and came out eliminating every other possibility.
From the toilet room, he followed the two to the deck room where they claimed four new suitcases which must have been taken down to the station by someone else.
Jack was near enough to use his eyes and he did so to advantage with the consequence that he saw the
lettered names on the baggage. Grantley's cases were labelled Henry S. Picard, Boston, Massachusetts,
and Seaballs, Arnold J. Talia Farrow, Philadelphia, PA. The plans had been carefully made,
and it was plain that they would have given Nick and others a great deal of trouble, to say the
least, had it not been for the chance presence of Jack Wise at that particular corner and just
at the right time, an accident that set at not all the probabilities and rendered worthless
the elaborate satifuges of Grantley and his satellite. They had not emptied their bag of tricks,
however. To Jack's surprise, instead of heading for a train, they emerged from the building and
entered a taxi. It was clear that they were bent upon putting another kink in their trail.
Across the street was a cabstand, and Jack hurried toward it and entered the nearest machine.
Again he offered a generous tip, provided the taxi he pointed out could be kept in view.
They lost little time in getting started and Grantley's cab remained in plain sight headed still farther downtown.
At 14th Street, the chase turned westward and it was soon clear that Grantley's goal was the waterfront along the Hudson River.
Before the riverfront was reached, Jack thought it best to exchange vehicles.
He consulted the meter, learned the amount of his fare, added the driver's tip to it,
and then looked through the little pane of glass at the rear.
When across town, 14th Streetcar was seen at about the right distance behind him, he ordered the chauffeur.
to stop. He thrust the money into the man's hand as he alighted, waited a few moments,
and then swung lightly on board the car as it passed him. He was sure that his manure had not been
witnessed by his quarry on account of the amount of traffic which intervened. After entering the
trolley, he kept his eye on the taxi ahead, which had slowed down. When it turned southward
through the maze of streets close to the water, Weiss jumped off and followed on foot. There was still
a possibility that the fugitives might give him the slip, but he did not believe it likely.
As for the recognizing him, he had made the difficult, if not out of the question, by another clever change of appearance made during the run of the second cab.
Heavy-draise and lighter delivery wagons abounded in this section, and the streets were narrow.
As a result, the taxi which Jack was following was making slow progress, and its athletic pursuer found it easy to keep within less than a block of it.
He was thus in a position to see that it stopped in front of the entrance to a small dock, above which appeared the sign New York and Buffalo
transport company.
That's certainly a new one on me, thought twice.
Not a very well-patternized line, I take it.
Is it possible they are going to skip on a canal boat or try to?
That's the only way of getting from here to Buffalo by water.
Bright little chair of stairs.
Nobody else would have thought of that in a hundred years,
and when they go to Buffalo, a hop, skip and jump across the Niagara River
would have carried them into Canada.
After that, a transatlantic steamer at Montreal or Quebec, I suppose,
and then ta-ta.
I saw them first though,
and if the chief doesn't decorate me
with the order of the eagle eye for this,
he is a ungrateful master.
The end of chapter 19.
Chapter 20 of the stolen brain
by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Box recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 20.
Some good news.
Jack Wise made himself scarce
and yet took up a position which enabled him to keep track of the fugitives' movements.
He was in no great hurry to notify Nick or the police.
He wished to first make sure that there were to be no more doublings and twistings
on the part of Grantley and Seabult.
Apparently they had reached the end of the New York Trail
and Jack was forced into a sort of reluctant admiration for their cleverness.
The man who had driven them, with the unfortunate milliner,
from the Bronx to 125th Street, knew only the beginning of their wanderings
and even if the driver who had picked them up several blocks from that point could be found,
it would only be possible for him to say that he had carried them to Pennsylvania Station.
The supposition would have been, but for voices timely cut across their trail,
that they had taken a train there, and there would have been nothing to disprove that belief.
So far as Grantley and Sebald in their proper persons was concerned, the trail had ended there.
It was Henry S. Beckham of Boston, and Arnold J. Taliifer.
of Philadelphia, two very different-looking individuals who had taken the taxi at that point and driven to the dock of the New York and Buffalo Transport Company.
The only way in which Jack would have improved on their tactics would have been to buy tickets for some point on the Pennsylvania and actually to pass through the gates toward the proper train if not to board it.
That would have added to the complications and it would have been easy enough to mingle with the crowd from some incoming train and so returned to the waiting room and the street.
The tracks they had left were confused enough as it was, however.
They dismissed a cab and enter the company's tiny office, from which they emerged a little later,
after which they went on board one of the barges lying alongside the dock.
It was plain to wise that all arrangements had been made in advance and that the two had been expected.
The captain of the barge created them with respect and led them into the tiny cabin.
Hope they liked their accommodations, murmured Jack with a grin.
They won't have time to get fussy over them there.
everything seemed to be in readiness for departure. Toll lines were being paid out and made fast,
and a powerful tug with steam up was in readiness to tour a number of the barges up the river
to the entrance to the canal near Albany, where horse power would replace steam for the long,
tedious journey through the canal. Jack waited until Grantley and Seabald appeared again
without their suitcases and idly began watching the preparations. He had no reasonable doubt
after that that they intended to remain on board, at least during part of the trip.
reassured as to this and no longer fearing that an alarm would be premature, Nick's assistant slipped across the street in search of the nearest telephone.
He was perfectly willing that the tug and its convoy of barges should depart before help came, for, if desired, they could easily be overtaken on the river long before they had passed the city's northern boundaries.
The two rascally surgeons had committed themselves now and they would not leave the kennel boat unless they became suspicious, which was extremely unlikely at that stage of the game.
There was no public telephone in the neighborhood, but vice easily gained permission to use an instrument in a nearby store.
He first called up Nick's house.
Neither the detective nor any of his assistance was at home,
but they had been telephoning back there at frequent intervals in order to keep one another informed of their movements.
Consequently, Joseph, Nick's highly efficient butler was in possession of the main facts regarding the crime committed on Mr. Baldwin
and the plans for the pursuit of the fugitives.
Well, as fast as they telephone in, tell them I'm at a man.
accidentally on the job, that I've been trailing those fellows all over town, and that I can
lay my hands on them at any moment. There's no hurry, so I won't modify the police. The chief
can do that later if he wishes. Tell him, and the rest of them, except Ida Jones, who won't be
needed. To meet me as soon as convenient at the corner of 14th Street and 10th Avenue? Got that,
Joseph? All right then. It's all over, but putting on the nippers. She had been careful not to speak
any plain air, especially in regard to the fugitives
wear a butch, for fear some of
those who were in the store might tip the wing
to Grantley and Seabald in the hope of earning
a reward for the information that they were
in danger of arrest.
One who had had less experience
on such matters, or had studied
the ways of criminals under an inferior
master, would almost certainly have
chaffed under the delay and given
way to apprehension unless the two scoundrels
might yet slip through his fingers.
But Jack Weiss knew when
to look for trouble and when to
sure that the wind was in the right quarter. Four boardings would have been foolish under the
circumstances. Grantley and Seabald had made themselves at home on the canal boat, which would require
days to reach Albany. The very fact that they had done so proved that nothing had aroused their fears
during their zigzag courts through the city, and now it was to their interest to do nothing
that would vet the curiosity of those with whom they had temporarily thrown their lot. Therefore,
there was no reason to suppose that they would not sit tight so long as nothing disturbed them,
and Nick and his assistants could be counted on to see that nothing did
until it was too late for their quarry to escape.
Meanwhile, several of the barges had been lashed together and had started up the river.
They were heavily laden, however, and the tuck space was almost a crawl.
From the vantage point of a neighbouring dock, Jack watched them philosophically.
Bye-bye, my friends. See you later.
The words formed themselves in his mind, but incidentally the look of anticipated triumph disappeared from his face and one of horror replaced it.
He was thinking of the well-nigh, unbelievable outrage which had been perpetrated on the trusting financier.
The chairs held together too quick and clean a death for those fiends, he told himself.
And yet they won't get even that.
They haven't killed his body, but have only murdered the part of him that's worth most of him, his mind.
yet all they'll get, I suppose, is a maximum sentence
of performing an irregular operation under the new law.
They'll get that, though, I can tell them.
I can never be grateful enough for the chance
or the fate that threw them in my way just them.
I suppose the chief would have nabbed them sooner or later,
but it would have meant a lot of mighty stiff pulling against the current.
Jack, thereupon, lounced slowly toward 14th Street
and hung about the corner of he had named for half an hour or more.
At the end of the time, Nick put in an appearance
in one of his motor-carts and being familiar with his assistant's disguise, he picked him out at once.
What's this Joseph Seltzby, Jack?
He demanded eagerly as he jumped out of the machine.
Do you really know where Grantley and Seabole are?
That's the idea, Chief?
Where?
On the barge, Mary Jane bound up the river for Buffalo.
Are you sure?
As sure as I am that you are the champion detective of the world.
Nick ignored this.
How long ago did they leave?
He asked. About the time I call up the house. You can't lose them, Chief. They are probably off 34th Street now.
You could come abreast of them on foot without breaking any walking records.
Going to notify police headquarters? I've already done, sir. I knew that you could be relayed on.
And that Joseph isn't in the habit of tangling messages. The police ought to be along any minute now.
Two plain-clothed men armed with warrants arrived shortly afterward, and Chick-Carter came up almost simultaneously.
Nick had instructed Patsy and Idaho Jones to continue the hunt for Hoff and the nurse.
One of the boats of the Harbour Squad was summoned to the foot of the West 14th Street from P.R. A. after a brief consultation, and in half an hour more, the little party was in full pursuit.
The end of chapter 20.
Chapter 21 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganandha.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 21.
The fugitives get a shock.
The low cabin of the canal boat Mary Jane was aft.
Nearly an hour and a half after leaving the dock, Brantley and Seabal were sitting just forward of the cabin on a couple of coils of rope.
Their heads were thus below the level of the low roof.
They were conversing in low, guarded tones in order not to be overheard by the captain and hands.
I'll confess now, the younger of the two were saying,
that I never expected to get away from those cursed detectives so easily.
It seems almost too good to be true.
Poor, sneered Grantly.
Like almost everybody else, including those who ought to know better,
you have let yourself believe that Carter and this crowd
come somewhere near and living up to their newspaper repetitions.
That's plain nonsense.
They don't.
They're greatly overrated.
The detectors of fiction and those of fact are two very different propositions.
I'll admit that Nick Carter is a great deal cleverer than the police.
But that doesn't say much.
He's unusually lucky to.
and that accounts for most of his success such as it has been.
But I haven't been afraid of him for a moment.
Neither he nor anybody else could follow the trail we took,
and nobody will think of looking for us in a canal boat.
The idea that we would deliberately choose such an infernally slow means of transit
will never accrue to our enemies confound them.
We are as safe right now as if we were 5,000 miles from Newark,
and we certainly did a good job.
I almost wish I had left Baldwin with enough mind to realize what had happened to him.
I was a little too taro.
When they try the x-rays on him, as they undoubtedly will find his quaint him absolutely empty.
It will be a vast surprise to Van Poole and the rest of the tribe of medical nincompovs.
They'll stand around in open-mouthed amazement, wondering how he can remain alive after such an operation.
I set out to show them something, and I've done it.
But I'm sorry now that I didn't make a little more artistic job of it.
I could have removed just enough of his brain to make him a mental wreck,
and yet left enough to cause him the great.
anguish of mind over his condition. As it is now, he is nothing but an empty Hulk without
intelligence enough to feed or dress himself. He's deprived of everything but physical sensations,
and most of those are missing are robbed of their greatest intensity. I see what you mean,
but I wouldn't worry about that, returned Seabald. Your revenge is a thousand times better than
killing would have been, and even if you haven't left him with the power to think, you're
given the others enough to think about. I would have given a good deal to see Carter's face when he
opened that envelope and found the pieces of Baldwin's check. I'll wager that stumped him.
He'll puzzle over that until he's black in the face, and never guess your motive
were turning down all that money. Even if he knew about Felix Simmons, he wouldn't see
through the rest. And he'll never know about Simmons. It's fortunate that Simmons, the speaker paused
abruptly, and he and Grantley looked at each other with a start of apprehension. They'd overheard
one of the men on the barge calling to another as he pointed beyond the stern of the unwieldy
craft down the river. Look at that police boat footing it up this way, Tim?
Where the words that had come to their ears.
Wonder what the cops are up to know.
In a moment, the attitudes of the two fugitives relaxed, and they smiled rather sheepishly.
Guilty consciences are not agreeable travelling companions, but their self-confidence and
contempt for the enemies reasserted themselves at once.
This won't do, muttered grantly.
We must get a confounded nose under better control than that.
There's nobody after it.
here, and we know it. They're all running around in circles back there, and we'll have to stop
shying at the mention of the policeman. Let's have a look at the blamed boat, and then forget it
when we have shown a little natural curiosity. Before they could rise, though, another of the
boatman gave an exclamation which halted the two criminals and left them tense and motionless.
By George! They've done change the courts, and are heading right this way, the man ejaculated.
Gosh, I ain't cracked no saves elsewhere. How about you guys? The job. The job
query was addressed to the speaker's fellows, but that did not give much comfort to the two
skulkers in the shadow of the cabin. They decided to remain where they were until they saw
which way the cat was going to jump. Meanwhile, however, Grantley thought it best to pull the wool
over the boatman's eyes. What's that I hear about a police boat? he asked lazily. Tell us when
it comes abreast. We are too darned comfortable here to get up for anything short of a battleship.
The man made some laughing answer, and Grant Lee and Seabal managed to keep up a semblance of careless conversation to mask their anxiety.
They had had the best of reasons for believing that effective pursuit was out of the question,
but at the approach of the police, their guilty fears had instinctively flamed up.
Those who had been watching the boat approach had little doubt now that its business was with a little flotty love of barges,
and their mystified comments caused the fugitives' hearts to sink like lead.
It seemed incredible that their carefully concealed getaway had come to naught so soon.
Surely the police boat was not after them.
Perhaps one of the boatmen and the Mary Jane or another of the canal boats had knocked somebody down in some waterside quarrel.
That must be it.
And yet, tug-ahoy there, an authoritative voice boomed through a megaphone.
Don't be in a hurry.
There are a couple of fellows we want back here.
The voice was startlingly close, and the sound had hardly died.
away before the bow of the police boat came into view opposite the criminal's position.
Their fears were uppermost now, and their terrorized instincts told them that the worst had happened.
With one accord, they rose to their feet, whipping out their automatics as they did so.
One penetrating glance was enough for them.
They recognized Nick and Chick and realized that there was something vaguely familiar about the appearance of a third figure and the police boat's deck, that of Jack Weiss.
before those about them knew what was happening they had begun firing.
The tow was a big one consisting of nine barges and all, last three abreast.
Grantley and Seabald were on the left-hand barge in the first tier, counting from the front.
Therefore, as a police boat had approached on the right, they had obliged to fire across two of the barges.
The approach of the official tug had drawn the attention of the boatmen on all of the barges.
Two or three of these curious ones were almost within the line of fire with their backs,
turned to the fugitives. Seabal filed wildly, and one of the bystanders went down with a groan.
The rest scattered or threw themselves flat on the decks. Grantley, however, in contrast to his
nervous assistant, was perfectly cool. The detectives were hardly more than 20 feet away,
despite the two intervening canal boats, and the scoundrel surgeon began pumping away as fast as he
could, and with the steadiest of hands. His first shot went just over the detective's heads,
but the second one were doubtless have caught Nick full in the breast, had it not.
not been that the police boat crazed the side of the nearest barge at that moment.
The result was that Nick and his companions were thrown off their balance for the time being
luckily for them.
Their efforts to prevent themselves from falling were as effective as if they had been able
and willing to dodge Grantley's bullets.
The second of these ripped through Nick's court, gouging his side a little.
Down, commanded the detective, and just as the fugitives fired again, the five detectives
sank below the level of the police boat's rail.
all but their heads and weapons, that is.
They remained in sight, and their revolvers placed away in a business like volley that
woke the echoes of the New Jersey Hills.
A naval battle in miniature was taking place of West 60th Street, Manhattan.
The end of Chapter 21.
Chapter 22 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 22.
Grantley takes a swim.
This train had already proved a little too much for Seabald,
who was not made of such stern stuff as Grantley.
When the detectives dropped down behind the rail of the police craft,
the younger surgeon looked about him wildly for a hiding place.
He was close to the little companion way which led down a few steps into the barges'
Tuffy cabin, and in his unreasoning terror he forgot that he would be bottled up effectually
there, even if he should be able to reach that retreat with a whole skin.
With a cry of fear, he threw himself head foremost toward the sunken doorway of the cabin,
but a bullet from Chick's automatic caught him in the shoulder before he disappeared.
A howl of pain followed, and Seabald crumpled up in the doorway just out of sight of his enemies,
who promptly counted him out of the calculations.
Not so with Dr. Grantley, however.
That sturdy rascal had seen as quickly as Seabald had that their position was untenable.
The detectives were undercover while he was exposed.
The sides of the kennel boat rose only a few inches about the deck
so that there was no shelter corresponding to that of which the detectives had taken advantage so promptly.
In spite of his exposure, however, the murderous surgeon kept his head
and retreated slowly firing as he went.
His shots did no more than to drive a big splinter of wood into Jack Weiss's cheek
as he struck the rail of the police boat,
but on the other hand, he seemed to bear a charmed life.
The trouble was that the detectives were trying to wound him slightly in the head.
hands or arms for the purpose of ending his resistance, or at least of rendering him incapable of
using his weapon. Such shots are difficult ones, and that was especially true just then, for a strong
wind had sprung up and was causing the police boat a rock to one tune and the other ponderous bar just
another, an entirely different one. Besides, the description of the affair had occupied much more
time than the affair itself. Grantley began to move as soon as Sebald did, but he deliberately
took his time about it, being bent presumably upon showing his content for his enemy's aim.
Nevertheless, it required only a few backward steps to bring him to the farther corner of the low cabin,
beyond which he crouched unscathed. He had been wise enough to retreat in that direction
instead of trapping himself in the cabin. He was now shielded in much the same way as his
opponents were, and there was only a narrow open passageway between him and the water.
He could, therefore, fire over the top of the cabin when the detectives approached to dislodge him
and whenever things got too hot for comfort,
he could always plunge into the river and swim for it.
Nick had no intention of wasting more ammunition under those circumstances.
He had a plan ready the instant grantly subsided behind the barges cabin.
O'Brien, you and jealous we stay on board here,
he said, addressing the two policemen in plain clothes,
and direct the pilot to drawback,
and then come alongside again beyond the canal boat.
Meanwhile, my assistants and I will skip across a barges and smoke that fellow out.
See the point? I wanted to be between him and the Jersey Shore on the chance that he'll escape us and dive overboard. That's the stuff was O'Brien's enthusiastic answer. He appreciated the quality of the detective strategy and it probably that, at the same time, he was willing enough to have Nick and his assistants bear the brunt of the danger. That was only natural. No time was lost in carrying out Nick's plan. The utmost haste was necessary in as much as for all they knew. Grantly might LDD have slipped into the
the water. At a word from Nick, Jack and Chick jumped up and followed him on a run after
vaulting over the deck of the nearest kennel boat. At the same instant, the police
boat began to back. Brantley opened fire as soon as he had a target and the detectives answered
him short for short, but no damage was done on either side. Wally, the upper part of the
surgeon's head showed above the barges cabin and on the other hand those who were running over
the pitching barges present at difficult marks. Nick and his companions crossed the first
canal boat in a few bones and jumped to the deck of the middle one of the three which lay side by side.
At that, Grantley ceased firing and his head disappeared. A moment later, they heard a splash.
The criminal had taken to the water as naked anticipated. Fortunately, it was broad daylight,
and there seemed no likelihood that he could escape them, no matter how good a swimmer he might
be with the show far away. As it stood, the detectives were practically out of the race.
They could have plunged in after Grantley, to be sure, but they did not have
appear to be any need of that unless he should attempt to drown himself.
The police boat would have to take care of him now, and it was quite capable of doing so to all appearance,
although it might be two or three minutes before it could come up with him.
Nick and his assistants had forced the issue so suddenly and don'tlessly
that the official craft was still backing past the long line of canal boats when Grantley took to the water.
It would have to keep on until it was clear of them, and had room enough to swing around and steam behind them.
After one glance at the head of the swimmer, another at the manoeing police tug,
Chick turned his attention to the game he had already brought down.
He did not believe that Seabal was plucky enough to try to shoot any of them in the back,
but it was well to put him out of temptation.
As he had expected, the wounded man was too much occupied with his own suffering
and to what was going to happen to him to give any thought of revenge.
Chick disarmed and handcuffed him in short order, leaving him where he was.
By that time, a group of excited and curious boatmen had gathered at both the detectives
drawn from the several canal boats when they decided that the danger was passed.
Nick and his assistants answered their numerous questions briefly, but kept their eyes
all the time on the fugitive who was swimming strongly.
The police boat had been obliged to go astern for some distance downstream in order to get
room enough to make the double turn around the string of canal boats, preparatory to
straightening out in pursuit of grantly.
Its bow was no pointer
toward the New Jersey shore as it crossed behind
the barges. It was about to swerve
again and come up along the other side
of the drifting toe when the surgeon
suddenly and unexpectedly changed his course.
He had been swimming with lusty strokes
straight for the western bank of the river.
But now he swerved and started at an angle
against the current. His object was
apparent at once and the realization
gave the onlookers a thrill.
A racing powerboat of the express type
the sole occupant of which was a pretty girl in oilskins and Sylvester
had been skimming up the river at reduced speed when the unusual encounter began.
The girl had passed the barges and was a boat opposite the tug which was towing them
when the shooting began.
She had ducked out of harm's way but had slowed down.
She was obviously determined to see all they was to see.
Accordingly, when Brantley had jumped overboard, she had waited only long enough to see that
he did not strike out toward her.
Then she had shut off her power and turned a whole attack.
attention toward the novel site. When Grantley changed his course, he headed directly for a boat.
The end of Chapter 22. Chapter 23 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter. This Libby-Wox
recording is in the public domain. Read by Yoganand. The Stolen Brain, Chapter 23. A timely shot.
The girl had made a foolish mistake in throttling her engine, for the current was carrying her down to meet the desperate
swimmer. Nixman gasped involuntarily as he saw that Grantley could not fail to reach the
powerboard before the tuck could overtake him unless a frightened girl came to her senses
and forged ahead again. Run for it! Oil Bodeo! shouted Chick through his cupped hands. But the
girl's presence of mind seemed to have deserted her, or else she was torn between the desire
of her flight and some feminine notion that Prantley might be in distress and needed her help.
At any rate, she looked as if she did not know what to do, and she made no attempt to start the boat.
Go, child, before it's too late, Nick called apprehensively.
If he gets control of your boat, we can't catch him, and he's a fugitive from justice, who deserves nobody's sympathy.
But still, she hesitated and looked about her wildly, while Chick and Jackwise called to the police boat to hurry.
Grant Lee was within a few strokes of the powerboat now, and both were too far from the detectives for the latter to do anything by jumping.
in."
That's a Simco Express, Nick mutter to his first assistant, and it's good for at least 25
knots an hour to the police boards twelve or fourteen.
We must go.
He did not finish his sentence, for Grant Lee had Alderdy laid one hand on the power board's
gunwale and was preparing to pull himself over the side.
Jump overboard, girl, the detective shouted peremptorily.
We'll take care of you.
For a tense moment, he feared that the girl would not profit by this advice either, but her
her fears caught the upper hand when the fugitives pale face and glaring eyes came into view about the gunwale.
With a cry of terror, she threw herself over the opposite rail.
Thank heaven, exclaimed Nick under his breath, now that she's out of the way.
Again he broke off abruptly, but the action which followed immediately left no doubt of his meaning.
He sank down on one knee, steadied his pistol arm on the other, and took careful aim at the figure
which was climbing over the side of the racing craft.
The police tug was coming, approaching now at full speed, but it was at least 50 yards behind.
Dr. Grantley had proved that he was too dangerous a man to dally with.
If he was not effectually stopped at once, before he started the blue streak of a speedboat,
there was no telling when they would see him again.
He was doubtless familiar with marion engines of that type,
otherwise he would not have headed for the boat.
As soon as he started the powerful motor, he would fade away up the Hudson with the speed of a projectile,
and there was no craft at hand that could keep him in sight.
It was no time for half-fay measures.
Grantley was climbing into the powerboat from the other side.
He exposed himself as little as possible as he came over the rail,
but the target was big enough for Nick.
The detective's automatic spoke just once,
but the fugitive crumpled up over the gunwale,
his legs in the water, his hands cropping blindly over the rail of the craft.
A chair went up from the boatman,
and Nick's assistants joined in a sigh of relief.
A moment later they were both in the water and swimming to the aid of the girl.
The police boat slid alongside the racer with reversed engines.
Grantley was taken on board.
It was found that he had been shot through the right breast.
Nick had taken no chances.
The girl proved to be a good swimmer, but her fright had weakened her to an extent which made her very grateful for the young man's assistance.
Chick and Jack helped her back to the boat, and after the former had been transferred to the police tug,
Jack piloted the racing craft back to the Yacht Club
from which the girl had set out a short time before.
The wound was a clean one, and in spite of his age,
Dr. Grantley possessed a great deal of strength and endurance.
He recovered rapidly and in due time was put on trial.
Dr. Sebald, Mr. Rawlinson, the nurse, and Hoff, the German servant,
the latter pair having been captured through the efforts of Patsy Garvan and Ida Jones,
were arraign with him as accomplices.
There was another accomplice, however, who shared the ordeal with them and whose arrest had caused a tremendous sensation financial and social circles.
The fifth prisoner was Felix Simmons, another of the Wall Street Money Kings, and Jay Hackley Baldwin's rival.
The tearing up of the check for the quarter of a million dollars had started Nick Carter's suspicions off on a new line.
Had Grantley merely wanted money, he could have earned that some legitimately, or even more than that, by bringing his great skill to bear as he had actually.
done on the multimillioner's eyes. The fact that he had not been content with that,
but had gone on and committed a revolting crime by literally robbing Bolvin of part of his brain
indicated that revenge of some sort had been his motive. But even so, there would have been
no reason from his unscrupulous standpoint for his refusing to profit financially by the first
operation. His act in destroying the check seemed to show that somebody else was paying for the crime
and that, such being the case, Grantley felt that he could afford the luxury of spanning Baldwin's $250,000.
And that, in its turn, implied that the surgeon must have hated Baldwin so intensely that, criminal though he was,
he could not bear to touch any of the millionist money if his own wants could be supplied in any other way.
There had been several difficulties about this new theory, notably the fact that Grantley had,
apparently, been anxious to get hold of the check in the first place.
The more Nick puzzled over that, however, the more he became inclined to believe that the surgeon's seeming eagerness to obtain the check had been due to the pressure from a third person, his unknown backer.
If such a person existed, it would obviously have been to his interest to have Grantley obtained and seem to make use of the huge fee which Baldwin had promised for that,
and Grantley's own enmity toward the blind financier would supply a sufficient motive for the crime and prevent the authorities from probing deep enough to do.
discover the surgeon's secret arrangement with his third person. On the other hand, if Grantley
were shown to have at a quarter of a million, as good as in his grasp, and to have failed to
take full advantage of his opportunities, no mere motive of private vengeance would be likely to be
accepted as an adequate explanation, and in that case, the prosecution would probably attempt
to dig up additional facts to the great embarrassment of Dranthley's principal or silent partner.
Supposing such an individual to exist, that was the way the detective,
pictured him as reasoning. But it was hardly probable that any one of Baldwin's financial enemies
would have been willing to pay Grantley for the crime and at the same time allow the surgeon
to carry off a quarter of a million of the victim's money in addition. Therefore,
it looked as if Grantley's backer must have prevailed upon him to obtain the check partly
as a blind, but with the understanding that it was to be turned over to him after the transaction
had been covered up in some way. If that were the explanation, it was plain that Grantley had
truth falls to the bargain. He had not only destroyed the check, which seemed to confirm Nick's
theory that he was not entitled to it, but was expected to pass it on to someone else. But he had
also, by sending the fragments to Nick, given the detective a broad hint that he was looking
elsewhere for his pay. Nick did not believe that Cranthley had meant to do any more than
indulgent a dramatic defiance, but that was the effect his act had had. As for his apparent
breaking of faith with this unknown confederate that presented no great difficulties. Grantley
would have been quite capable of such an act if he had already received his pay from that quarter.
It would have meant neither financial loss nor physical danger to himself, and that was all that
would have deterred him. To make a long story short, the great detective had set to work along
this line. With Grant Lee and his known accomplices safely in custody, he had ample time to carry
the investigation as far as necessary.
enough to say that it confirmed his theories one after another. First, he discovered that Dr.
Grantley's original motive had been one of private revenge of a two-fold character. The
surgeon's real name was not Grantley at all, but Standish. He had inherited quite a large sum of
money, and in their younger days, he and Baldwin had both loved the same girl. She had married
the future financier and died a few years later. Standish had foolishly blamed Baldwin for the girl's
preference and had never forgiven him. He had subsequently,
changed his name to Grant Lee, which explained the fact that Baldwin had not suspected his identity.
Years afterward, Grantley, as he then called himself, had invested heavily in a certain copper company,
not knowing that the corporation was secretly controlled by the blind financier.
The venture happened to be one of Bolvin's few failures, and Grantley had lost his entire investment.
Afterward, when he had learned of Baldwin's connection with the punctured bubble,
he had gone nearly mad with rage and the thirst for vengeance.
He had bided his time, however. After a sensational trial on the charge of manslaughter, he had decided that the time was ripe.
His practice was elderly ruined, and he had little more to lose whatever happened.
There was something else to consider, however. His income had long been windling, and his trial had been expensive.
He was badly in need of money, and although he believed he could restore Baldwin's sight and thus technically earn a big fee, there were two difficulties in the way.
The first was that he rebelled at the thought of using his enemy's money, after all that had happened,
even though he considered Baldwin responsible for the loss of a small fortune of his own.
The second was that even if he could bring himself to accept such a fee,
his contemplated revenge on the financier would almost certainly prove an effectual barrier between him and the collection of the fee.
While in this quandary, Grantley had sought of Felix Simmons.
The latter was Baldwin's greatest rival in the financial world,
and he was personally known to Grantley.
The surgeon had created him in a professional way some years before
and had reasons to know that Simmons was thoroughly unscrupulous
whenever they appeared to be no chance of his being found out.
Accordingly, Grantley had approached Simmons on the sly
and a deal had resulted.
It would be worth millions to Simmons to have Baldwin eliminated from the financial game
and therefore he readily agreed to pay Grantley a very large sum
the exact amount was never established
if he could bring about that result.
There must be no suspicion,
that Simmons had anything to do with the matter, and to that end, Grantley was to appear anxious
to obtain the fee which Baldwin had promised. This fee, however, was to be turned over to Simmons
in such a way that his relations with the surgeon should not be disclosed. In that manner,
the shrewd, Grantley had made sure of a new fortune, irrespective of success of the operation
on Baldwin's eyes, or his ability to realize on that before the crash of discovery came.
The operations had been performed, and the crime committed. Simmons, in discreet.
had managed to evade the watchful detectives and had seen for himself that Grantley had carried out as part of the compact.
He had thereupon paid him the sum agreed upon in gold so that there would be no possibility of its being traced to him.
Being constitutionally croaked, however, Grantley had failed to carry out his agreement in regard to Baldwin's check.
His hatred of Baldwin prevented him from trying to realize on it himself.
Moreover, he had good reason to fear that Nick Carter would not let him do so in any case.
but when it came down to it
he could not endure the thought of turning
it over to Simmons
for that would be reimbursing Simmons
with the amount he had spent on Grantley
and in that case the crooked financier
would be paying nothing for the great advantage
that would come to him through Baldwin's withdrawal
from the game
in short Grantley decided to double cross his powerful
confederate feeling sure that Simmons
was not in a position to expose him
he had not dreamed of the use to which
Nick Carter would put the destruction of the check
but even if he had it is more than
likely that he would have persisted. Misery likes company, they say, and it is certain that
when Grantley found himself in the Toils, he was glad to see Felix Simmons in a similar
plight. Nick established enough of these facts to convict all of the criminals, and they
were sent to prison for long terms. The end of Chapter 23. Chapter 24 of the Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter. This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 24
A Tragedy of the Stage
It was several months after the conviction of Grantley and his confederates
that the members of Nick Carter's household
all happened to meet at the breakfast table
a rather unusual circumstance.
The famous Newark detective sat at the head of the table,
ranged about it were a chick, Patsy Gawain
and the latter's young wife Adelinea and Ida Jones
Nick's beautiful woman assistant.
It was the latter who held the attention of her companions at that moment.
She was a little late and had just waited herself.
Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes gave no hint that she had reached the house.
They all shared the detective's hospitable roof a little after three o'clock that morning.
You good people certainly missed a sensation last night, she declared.
It was a strangest thing, and one of the most pitiable I ever beheld.
Nick, who had been glancing at his favorite newspaper, looked up.
What do you mean?
He asked.
It was Ida's turn to show surprise.
Is it possible you don't know any of you?
She demanded looking around the table.
Haven't you read of Helga Lund's breakdown, or whatever it was?
Helga Lund, the great Swedish actress,
who was electrifying Newark that season in a powerful play
the daughter of men had consented
in response to many requests to give a special midnight performance
in order that the many actors and actresses in the city
might have an opportunity to see her in a most
successful role at an hour which would not conflict with their own performances the date
had been set for the night before and since it was not to be exclusively a
performance for professionals the manager of the theatre who was a friend of Nick
Carter's had presented the detective with the box much to Nick's regret however
and that of his male assistance an emergency had prevented them from attending to cap
the climax Adelina Garvan had not been feeling well so decided not to go
consequently Ida Jones had occupied the box with several of her friends
Nick shook his head in response to his pretty assistant's question
I haven't anyway he said glancing from her face back to his paper
ah here's something about it a long article he added I haven't seen it before
it looks very serious tell us all about it Ida needed no urging for she was full of
a subject oh it was terrible she exclaimed shuddery
Helga Lund had been perfectly wonderful all through the first and second acts.
I don't know when I have been so thrilled.
But soon after the third act began, she stopped right in the middle of an impassioned speech and stared fixedly into the audience.
Apparently it's someone in one of the front rows of the orchestra.
I'm afraid I can't describe a look.
It seemed to express merely recollection and loathing at first, as if she had recognized a face which had very disagreeable associations.
Then an expression, as I read it at any rate, swiftly.
changed to one of frightened appeal, and then it jumped to one of pure harrowing terror.
My heart stopped, and the whole theatre was as still as a death chamber, at least the audience was.
Afterward, I realised that the actor was on the stage with her at the time, had been improvising
something in an effort to cover up her laps, but I don't believe anybody paid any attention to him
any more than she did.
Her chin dropped, her eyes were wild and seemed ready to burst from their sockets.
She put both hands to her breast
and then raised one and passed it over
her forehead in a day sort of way.
She staggered, and I believe she would have fallen
if her lover and the play hadn't supported her.
The curtain had started to descend
when she seemed to pull herself together.
She pushed the poor actor, said with the strength
that sent him spinning and began to speak.
A voice had lost all of its wonderful music, however,
and was rough and rasping.
Her grace was gone to.
Heaven knows how.
She was positively awkward,
and a verse, they could.
couldn't have had anything to do with the part.
They were incoherent ravings.
The curtain had started to go up again.
Evidently, the stage manager
thought the crisis was passed when she began
to speak. But when she only
made matters worse, it came down with a
rush. After a maddening
delay, her manager came out looking wild
enough himself and announced, with many
apologies, that Miss Lund
had suffered a temporary nervous breakdown.
Nick Carter had listened
intently, now and then scanning
the article which described the affair.
too bad he commented soberly when ida had finished but haven't you any explanation either the paper doesn't seem to have any at least it doesn't give any a curious expression crossed ida's face i'd forgotten for the moment she replied i haven't told you one of the strangest things about it
in common with everybody else i was so engrossed in watching hell girl loon's face that i didn't have much time for anything else that's why there wasn't a more general attempt to see whom she was looking at we wouldn't ordinarily have been
very curious, but she held a gaze so compellingly.
I did manage to tear my eyes away once, though.
But I wasn't in a position to see.
I was too far to one side.
She appeared to be looking at someone almost online with a box,
but over toward the other side of the theatre.
I turned my glasses in that direction for a few moments
and thought I located the person, a man, but of course I couldn't be sure.
I could only see his profile, but his expression seemed to be very set,
and he was leaning forward a little in a tense sort of way.
Nick nodded as if Ida's words had confirmed some theory which he had already formed.
But what was so strange about him?
He prompted.
Oh, it doesn't mean anything, of course, was he reply.
But he bore the most startling resemblance to Dr. Hiram, Grantley.
If I had known that Grantley was safe and sinking for a long term of years,
I'm afraid I would have sworn that it was he.
The detective gave Ida a keen, slightly startled look.
Well, strange things than that have happened.
in our experience, he commented thoughtfully.
I haven't any reason to believe, though, that Brantley is at large again.
He would be quite capable of what you have described.
But surely, Kennedy would have notified me before this if...
The telephone had just rung, and before Nick could finish his sentence, Joseph, his butler, entered.
His announcement caused a sensation.
It was, long-distance, Mr. Carter, Warren Kennedy of Sing-sing wishes to speak with you.
The detective got up quickly without comment and stepped out into the hall
where the nearest instrument of the several in the house was located.
Patsy Gawain gave a low expressive whisper.
Suffering catfish, he ejaculated.
It looks as if you were right, Ida.
After that, he relapsed into silence and listened with the others.
Nick had evidently interrupted the warrant.
Just a moment, Kennedy, they heard him saying,
I think I can guess what you have to tell me.
It's Dr. Grantley who had escaped, isn't it?
Naturally, the warrant's reply was inaudible,
but the detective's next words were sufficient confirmation.
I thought so, Nick said in a significant tone.
One of my assistants was telling me of having seen last night a man who looked surprisingly like him.
When did you find out that he was missing?
As early as that?
I see.
Yes.
I'll come up if necessary as soon as I can.
But first I must set the ball rolling here.
I think we already have a clue.
I'll call you up later.
Yes.
Certainly.
Yes.
goodbye. A moment later, he returned to the dining room.
Maybe your eyes didn't deceive you after all either, he announced gravely.
Grantley escaped last night, in time to have reached the theatre for the third act of that special
performance, if not earlier. And it looks as if he subjected one of the keepers of the
prison to an ordeal somewhat similar to that, which Elgar Loon seems to have endured.
The end of Chapter 24.
Chapter 25 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yorg Anand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 25
Escape by Schedule
What do you mean by that chief?
Demanded Chick. Kennedy says that one of the keepers was found
in a peculiar sort of stupor as he calls it in Grantley's cell.
After the surgeon had gone,
he had evidently been overpowered in some way
and his keys had been taken away from him.
Kennedy assumes rightly enough his superiors,
that Crantly looted him into the cell on some pretext and then tried his tricks.
The man is still unconscious, and the prison physician can do nothing to help him.
Kennedy wants me to come up.
But I don't see what that has to do with Helga Lund, objected chick.
Even if it was, Grantley, that Ida saw, which remains to be proved, I don't see any similarity.
He didn't render her unconscious, and anyway, he wasn't near enough to think it overcheck,
the detective interrupted.
The significance will reach you by slow freight.
sooner or later, I am sure. I, for one, haven't any doubt that Ida saw the fugitive last night.
If so, Grantley did a very daring thing to go there without any attempted disguise.
Not as daring as might be supposed, however. He doubtless counted on just what happened.
If anyone who knew him by sight had noticed him in the theatre, this supposition would
naturally be that it was a misleading resemblance. There doesn't seem to be any doubt that he disguised
himself carefully enough for his flight from Sing, and covered his tracks with unusual
care, though Kennedy has been unable to obtain any reliable information about his movements.
If he was at the play, we may be sure that he restored his normal appearance deliberately
in defiance of risks involved in order that one person at least should direct
master him without fail, that person being Helga Lund.
And that implies it, he was again actuated primarily by motives of private revenge, as in the case of Baldwin.
The scoundrel seems to have a supply of enemies in reserve, and is willing to go to any length
in order to revenge himself upon them for real or fancied grievances.
If he's a man who broke up Lund's performance last night,
it's obvious that he knew of the special occasion
and the unusual hour before he made his escape.
In fact, it seems probable that he escaped when he did
for purpose of committing this latest outrage.
Even if his chief object has been attained, however,
I don't imagine he would return to Sing Sing and give himself up.
We shall have to get busy, and perhaps keep so for some time.
Plainly, the first thing for me to do is to seek,
an interview with Helga Lund if she's in a condition to receive me. She can tell, if she will,
who or what it was that caused her breakdown. If there turns out to be no way of connecting it
with Grantly, we shall have to begin her work at Sing Sing. If it was, Grantley, we shall begin
here. Did you see anything more of the man you noticed, Ida? Nothing more worth mentioning.
He slipped out quickly as soon as the curtains went down. But lots of others were doing the same,
although many remained and exchanged excited conjectures.
I left the box when I saw him going,
but by the time I reached the lobby was nowhere in sight
and I couldn't find anyone who noticed him.
Too bad.
Then there's nothing to do but try to see Helga.
The rest of you had better hang around the house until you hear from me.
Whatever the outcome, I shall probably want you all on the jump before long.
Nick hastily finished his breakfast while his assistants read him snatches
from the accounts in the various morning newspaper.
In that way, he got the gist of all that had been printed in explanation of the actress's attack
and in regard to a later condition.
All of the accounts agreed in saying that Helga Lund was in seclusion at a hotel in a greatly
overwrought state and that two specialists and a nurse were in attendance.
The prospect of a personal interview with her seemed exceedingly remote, but Nick Carter
meant to do his best unless her condition absolutely forbade.
Nick had learned from the papers that Helga Loon was staying at the vent-line,
Belding Hotel. Accordingly, he drove there in one of his motorcards and sent a card up to a suite.
On it, he scribbled a request for a word with one of the physicians or the nurse.
Dr. Lightfoot, a well-known New York physician with a large practice among theatrical people,
received him in one of the rooms of the actresses suite. He seemed surprised at the detective's presence,
but Nick quickly explained matters to his satisfaction.
Miss Lund, it seemed, was in a serious condition. She had gone to pieces mentally, past a sleepless night,
most of the time walking the floor and appeared to be haunted by the conviction that her career
was at an end. She declared that she would not mind so much if it had happened before any ordinary
audience, but as it was, she has made a spectacle of herself before hundreds of the members of her own
profession. That thought almost crazed her, and she insisted wildly that she would never regain
enough confidence to appear in public again. If that was a case, it was nothing short of a tragedy
in view of her great gifts.
Dr. Lightfoot hoped, however,
that she would ultimately recover from the shock of her experience,
although he stated that it would be months at least
before she was herself again.
Meanwhile, all of her engagements would have to be cancelled, of course.
In response to next questions,
the physician assured him that Elgar Lund
had given no adequate explanation
of her startling behavior of the night before.
She had simply said that she had recognized someone in the audience,
that the recognition had brought up painful memories,
and that she had completely forgotten her lines and talked at random.
She did not know what she had said or done.
Her physicians realized that she was keeping something back
and had pleaded with her to confide fully in them
as a means of relieving a mind from the weight
that was so evidently pressing upon it.
But she had refused to do so,
having declared that it would serve no good purpose
and that the most they could do was to restore her shattered nerves.
The detective was not surprised at this attitude,
which, as a matter of fact, paved the way to an interest.
view with the actress. In that case I think you will have reason to be glad I came,
he told Dr. Lightford. I believe I know in general what happened last night, and if you will give
me your permission to see Miss Lund alone for half an hour, I have hope of being able to induce her
to confide in me. My errand does not reflect upon her in any way, nor does it imply the
slightest danger or embarrassment to her, so far as I am aware. My real interest lies elsewhere,
but you will readily understand how it might help her and reinforce your effort.
if I could induce her to unbosom herself?
There isn't any doubt about that, Carter, was the doctor's reply.
But it's a risky business.
She's in a highly excitable stater.
An uninvited calls from men of your professional not apt to be soothing,
no matter what the object may be.
How do you know that some ghost of remorse is not haunting her?
If so, you would do much more harm than good.
If she saw the person I think she saw in the audience last night, Nick replied,
it's ten to one that the remorse is on the other side, or ought to be.
If I am mistaken, a very few sentences will prove it,
and I give you my word that I shall do my best to quite any fears my presence have aroused
and withdraw at once.
On the other hand, if I am right, I can convince her that I am a friend,
and that I know enough to make it worth a while to shift as much of a burden as possible to me.
If she consents, the tension will be removed at once, and she will be on the road to recovery,
and incidentally, I shall have gained some very important information.
The detective was prepared, if necessary, to be more explicit with Dr. Lightfoot,
but the latter, after looking, Nicolver thoughtfully for a few moments, gave his consent.
I've always understood that you always know what you're about, Carter, they said.
There's nothing of the blunderer or the brute about you, as there is about almost all detectives.
On the contrary, I'm sure you're capable of using a great deal of tact, aside from your warm,
sympathies. My colleague isn't here now, and I'm taking a great responsibility on my shoulders
in giving you permission to see Miss Lund alone at such a time. She's a great actress, remember,
and if it is possible, we must give her back to the world with all of her splendid powers
unimpaired. She's like a musical instrument of incredible delicacy. So for heaven's sake,
don't handle her as if she were hurdy-gurdy. Trust me, the famous detective said quietly.
Then wait, was a reply, and the physician hurried from the room.
Two or three minutes later, you return.
Come, he said.
I prepared her.
Told her you are a specialist in psychology, which is true, of course, in one sense.
You can tell her the truth later, if all goes well.
The end of Chapter 25.
Chapter 26 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Vox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 26.
The actress confides.
Nick was led through a couple of sumptuously furnished rooms into the great Swedish actress's presence.
Helga Lund was a magnificently proportioned woman, well above medium height and about 30 years of age.
She wore a loose, filmy negligee of silk and lace, and its pale blue was singularly becoming to her fair skin and golden hair.
Two thick, heavy ropes of the latter hung down far below her waist.
She was not merely pretty, but something in final.
better. She had the rugged,
staturest beauty of her goddess in face
and form. She was
pacing the floor like a cached linus
when Nick entered. Her head was
thrown back and her hands were clasped across
her forehead, allowing the full sleeves
to fall away from a perfectly formed
milk-white arms.
Miss Lund. This is
Mr. Carter of whom I spoke,
Dr. Lightfoot said gently. He believes
he can help you. I shall
leave you with him, but I'll be with him.
He withdrew soft.
and close the door. They were alone. The actress turned for the first time, and a pang shot
through the tender-hearted detective as he saw the tortured expression of her face. She nodded
absent-mindedly, but did not speak. Miss Lund, the detective began. I trust you will believe that
I would not have intruded at this time if I hadn't believed that I might possibly possess
the key to last night's unfortunate occurrence, and that you, the key, impossible, sir, the
actress interrupted in the precise but rather labored English which he had acquired in a surprisingly
short time and anticipation of an American tour. We shall soon be able to tell, Nick replied,
If I am wrong, I assure you that I shall not trouble you any further. If I am right, however,
I hope to be able to help you. In any case, you may take it for granted that I am not trying
to pry into your affairs. I have seen you on the stage more than once, both here and abroad.
It is needless to say that I have the greatest admiration for your genius.
Beyond that, I know nothing about you, except what I have read.
Then, will you explain briefly?
You see that I am in no condition to talk.
I see that talking of the right kind would be the best thing for you.
If the floodgates could be open, Miss Lund, Nick answered sympathetically.
I shall do better than explain.
With your permission, I shall ask you a question.
What is it?
simply this.
Are you acquainted with a Newark surgeon who goes by the name of Dr. Grantley?
Here I'm A. Grantley?
The actress, who had remained standing, started slightly at the detective's words.
Her bosom rose and fell tumultously, and her clenched hands were raised to it,
as Ida Jones had described him.
A look of mingled amazement and fright overspread her face.
Nick did not wait for her to reply, nor did he tell her that it was unnecessary.
Nevertheless, he had already received his answer, and it gave him the greatest satisfaction.
He was in the right track.
Before your reply, let me say this.
He went on quickly in order to convince her that she had nothing to fear from him.
Grantley is one of the best criminals living, and it is solely because our laws are still inadequate in certain ways that he is alive today.
As it is, he is a fugitive, an escape prisoner with a long term still to serve.
He escaped last night, but he will undoubtedly be.
be caught soon, despite his undeniable cleverness, and returned to the cell which awaits him.
Now, you may answer, if you please.
He was, of course, unaware of the accident of Helga Lund's knowledge of Grantley.
It may not be news to her, but he wished, in view of the actress's evident fear of Grantley,
to prove to her that he himself could not possibly be there in the surgeon's interest.
His purpose seemed to have been gained.
Unless he was greatly mistaken, a distinct relief mingled with the surprise which was stamped on
Helga's face.
He is a criminal, you say?
She breathes eagerly, leaning forward, forgetful that she had not admitted any knowledge of
Grantley at all.
You do not know what has happened to Dr. Grantley here in the last year?
No, was a reply.
I've never been in America before, and I've never even acted in England.
I did not read the papers in English.
You met Grantley abroad then, some years ago, perhaps.
The actress realized that she had committed herself.
She delayed for some time before she replied, and when she did, it was with a graceful gesture of surrender.
I'll tell all that is to tell, Mr. Carter, she said,
if you will give me your word as a gentleman that the facts will not be communicated to the newspapers until I give you permission.
Will you?
I think I've guessed your profession.
But I'm sure I've correctly gauged your honour.
I promise you that no word will find its way prematurely into print through me, Nick declared readily.
I'm a detective, as you seem to have surmised Miss Lund.
I called on you primarily to get a clue to the warabouts of Dr. Grantley,
but as I told you, I'm confident that it'll have a beneficial effect on you to relieve your mind
and to be assured in return that Grantley is a marked and hunted man,
and that every effort will be made to prevent him from molesting you any further.
Thank you, Mr. Carter, the actress responded,
throwing herself down on a couch and tucking her feet under it.
The act suggested that a mental tension was elderly,
lesson to a considerable degree. There's very little to tell, she went on after a slight pause,
and I should certainly have confided in my physicians if I had seen any use in doing so. It is nothing
I need be ashamed of, I assure you. I did meet Dr. Grantley to my sorrow five years ago in Paris.
He was touring Europe at the time, and I was playing in the French capital. He was introduced
to me as a distinguished American surgeon, and at first I found him decidedly interesting,
despite, or perhaps because of his eccentricities.
Almost at once, however, he began to pay violent court to me.
He was much older than I, and I could not think of him as a husband without a shudder.
With all his brilliancy, there was something sinister and cruel about him, even then.
I tried to dismiss him as gently as I knew how, but he would not admit defeat.
He persisted in his odious attentions, and one day he seized me in his arms and was covering my face and neck with his
detestable kisses. When a good friend, a young Englishman was announced, my friend was big and
powerful, a trained athlete. I was burning with shame and rage. I turned Dr. Grantley over to his
tender mercies and left the room. Dr. Grantley was very strong, but he was no match for the Englishman.
I'm afraid he was maltreated rather severely. At any rate, he was thrown out of the hotel, and I did
not see him again until last night. He wrote me a threatening letter, however, to the fact that
he would have his revenge someday and ruin my career.
I was greatly frightened at first,
but as time passed and nothing happened, I forgot him.
Last night, those terrible, compelling eyes of his dream mind irresistibly.
I simply had looked toward him,
and when I did so, my heart seemed to turn to a lump of ice.
I forgot my lines, everything.
I knew what he meant to do, but I could not resist him.
He was my master, and he was killing my art, my mastery.
I was a child, a witless fool in his hands.
My brain was in chaos.
I tried to rally my forces to go on with my part, but it was impossible.
I did manage to speak, but I do not know what I said, and no one will tell me.
Doubtless I babbled or raved, and the words were not mine.
They were words of delirium, or versatile, words which is powerful brain of evil put into my mouth.
Helga Lund halted abruptly, and threw out a hand.
again in an expressive gesture.
That's all, Mr. Carter, she added.
It was not my guilty conscience which made me afraid of him, you see.
As for his varibauts, I can tell you nothing.
I did not know that he had been in trouble, although I am not surprised.
I had neither heard nor seen anything of him since he wrote me five years ago.
Consequently, I fear I can be of no assistance to you in locating him,
unless he should make another attempt of some sort on me.
And heaven forbid that.
I've learned that he was here last night, said Nick, and that is all I hope for.
That will give us a point of departure.
I assure you that I greatly appreciate your confidence, and that I shall not violate it.
With your permission, I shall tell your physicians just enough, in general terms,
to give them a better understanding of your trouble.
It'll be best for the present to let the public believe that you are the victim of a temporary nervous breakdown,
but I should strongly advise you to allow the facts to become known as soon as Grantley is captured.
It will be good advertising, as we say over here, and at the same time it will stop gossip and dispel the mystery.
It will also serve to reassure your many admirers because it will give, for the first time, an adequate explanation and prove that the cause of a mental disturbance has been removed.
The actress agreed to this, and Nick Carter took leave of her after promising to apprehend Grantley as soon as possible and to keep her informed the progress of his search.
Before he left the hotel
He had a short talk with Dr. Lightfoot
Which gave promise of a more intelligent
handling of the case
Aside from the benefit
Which Helga Lund had already derived
From a frank talk with a sympathetic detective
The man-hunt could now begin in
Newark City instead of at awesning
And since the preliminaries could be
Safely interested to his assistance
Nick decided to comply with Warren Kennedy's
urgent request and run up to the prison
To see what he could make of the keeper's condition
The end of chapter 26
Chapter 27 of the Stolen Brain
By Nicholas Carter
This Libri-Walk's recording is in the public domain
Read by Yorg Anand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 27
Stronger than Bowls and Bars
The Great Detective said his men to work
and called up the prison before leaving Newark
As a result of the telephone conversation
the warden gave up the search for the fugitive in the neighbourhood of Orsening.
Orsening is up the hudson about an arse ride by train from the Metropolis.
It did not take Nick long to reach his destination.
He found Warden Kennedy in the latter's office and listened to a characteristic account of Dr. Grantley's escape,
which, in view of the fugitive's subsequent appearance of the theatre, need not be repeated here.
Bradley, the keeper, was still unconscious and nobody seemed to know what was the matter with him.
Nick had a theory which almost amounted to a certainty, but it remained to confirm it by personal examination.
The warden presently led the way to the prison hospital where the unfortunate keeper lay.
No second glance was necessary to convince the detective that he had been right.
The man was in a sort of semi-rigid state curiously like that of a trance.
All ordinary restoratives had been tried and had failed, yet there did not appear to be anything alarming about his condition.
The prison physician started to describe the efforts which had been made, but Nick interrupted him quietly.
Never mind about that doctor, he said.
I know what is the matter with him, and I believe I can revive him, unless Grantley has blocked the way.
Is it possible? exclaimed Kennedy in the doctor in concert.
What is it? added the former, while the latter demanded, what do you mean by blocking the way?
Your ex-guest hypnotized him, Kennedy, was a simple reply, and as they have had more or less experience,
along that line myself, I ought to be able
to bring Bradley out of the hypnotic sleep.
Providing the man who
plunged him into it, did not
impress upon his victim's mind too
strong a suggestion to the contrary.
Grantley has gone deep into hypnotism,
and it is possible that he
has discovered some way of preventing a third
person from reviving his subjects.
There would have been nothing for him to
gain by it in this case, but
he may, out of mere malice,
have thrown Bradley under a spell which
no one but he can break.
Let us hope not, however.
Hypnotism, eh?
ejaculated Kennedy.
By the powers, why didn't we think of that doctor?
The person physician hastily sought an excuse for his ignorance,
but as a matter of fact, he could not be greatly blamed.
He was not one of the shining lights of his profession,
as his not very tempting position proved,
and comparatively few medical practitioners have had any practical experience with hypnotism
or its occasional victims.
Nick Carter, on the other hand, had made an exhaustive study on the subject, both from a theoretical and a practical standpoint, and had often had occasion to utilize his extents of knowledge.
While Warren Kennedy, the physician, and a couple of nurses leaned forward curiously, the detective bent over the figure on the narrow white bed and rubbed the forehead and eyes a few times in a peculiar way.
Then he spoke to the man.
Come, wake up Bradley, he said commandingly.
I want you.
conscious, you're answering me. You cannot resist, get up. And to the amazement of the
own lookers, the keeper opened his eyes in a dazed, uncomprehending sort of way, threw his feet
over the edge of the bed and sat up. What is it? Where have I been? he asked, looking about
him. And then he added in astonishment, what? What am I doing here? You've been taking a long
nap. But you'll be all right, Bradley, the detective assured him. You remember what happened,
don't you? For a few moments
the man's face was blank, but soon
a look of shamed understanding, mingle with
resentment, overspread it.
It was at cursed number
60,113, he exclaimed
giving Grantley's prison number.
He called to me while I was making my rounds.
Was it last night?
Nick nodded, and the keeper went on.
What do you know about that? Is he
gone? This time it was a warden
who replied. Yes, he
skipped Bradley, but we know
he was down in Newark later in the night, and Carter here can be counted on to bring him back
sooner or later. Kennedy had begun mildly enough, going to the experience which a subordinate
had recently undergone, but at this point the autocrat in him got the better of his sympathy.
What the devil did you mean, though, by going into his cell keys and all like a confounded imbecile?
He demanded harshly. Isn't that the first thing you had drilled into that reinforced concrete dome
of yours? Not to give any of these fellows a chance to jump you. When you have your keys
with you? If you hadn't fallen for his little game,
but I didn't fall for nothing, Warden, the keeper interrupted warmly.
I didn't go into his cell at all. I had no better than that, believe me.
You didn't, what? What are you trying to put over Bradley? Kennedy burst out.
You were found in a cell with the door unlocked and keys gone, not to mention number 60,113.
Curse him. Maybe that improved. It I improve, insisted the keeper,
no matter how it looks.
He called to me, and I started to order the grating to see what he wanted.
He fixed his eyes on me, like he was looking me through and through,
and made some funny motions with his hands.
I'll swear it's all I remember.
If I was born in a cell, I don't know how I got there, or anything about it, so help me.
Warren started to give Bradley another tongue-lashing, but Nick interposed.
He's telling the truth, Kennedy, he said,
But how in thunder?
Very easily.
It hadn't occurred to me before, but it is evident that Grantley hypnotized him through the Barts and then commanded him to unlock the door and come inside.
There's nothing in hypnotism to interfere.
On the contrary, that would be the easiest and surest thing to do under the circumstances.
Grantley is too clever to try any of the old out-worn devices, such as waning sickness, for instance, in order to get a keeper in his power.
All that was necessary was for him to catch Bradley's eye.
The rest was as easy as rolling of a log.
When he got a friend inside, he put him to sleep, took his keys and his outer clothing, and then goodbye sing-sing.
It's rather strange that he succeeded in getting away without discovery of the deception, but he evidently did, or else he bribed somebody.
He might look into that possibility if you think best.
The supposition isn't essential, however, for accident or good luck might easily have added him.
As for the means he used to cover his trail after leaving the vicinity of the person, we need not waste any time over the question.
question. Fortunately, we have hit upon this trail down the river, and all that remains to do
is to keep on it in the right direction until we come up with him. It may be a matter of
arts or days or months, but Grantley is going to be brought back here before we are through.
You can bank on that gentleman, and when I return him to you, it will be up to you to take
some extraordinary precautions to see that he doesn't hypnotize any more keepers.
I guess that's right, Carter, agreed Warren Kennedy, tugging at his big mustache.
Bowls and Bart's are no good to keep in a man like that
who could make anybody let him out just by looking at him
and telling him to hand over the keys.
I suppose I'd have done it, though, if I had been in Bradley's position.
Exactly, the detective responded with a laugh.
You couldn't have helped yourself.
Don't worry, though.
I think we can keep him from trying any more tricks of that sort
when we turn him over to you again.
Hanged if I see how,
unless we give him a dose of solitary confinement
in a dark cell and have the men blindfolded themselves when they poke his foot in through the grating.
That won't be necessary, Nick assured the Warren as he prepared to leave.
We can get around it easier than that.
Half an hour later, Nick was on his way back to Newark City.
He was not as light-hearted or confident as he had allowed Warren Kennedy to suppose, however.
The fact that Grantley had turned to that mysterious and terrifying agency, hypnotism,
with all of its many evil possibilities caused him profound disquess.
it. Altruly the fugitive had used his mastery of the uncanny force in two widely different ways.
He had escaped from prison with startling ease by means of it, and then not content with that,
he had hypnotized a famous actress in the midst of one of her greatest crimes, for Nick had known
all along that Helga Lund had healed it to hypnotic influence.
The end of Chapter 27
Chapter 28 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 28
The Trail Vanishes
Grantley's Trail vanished into thin air,
or seemed to very quickly.
Nick Carter and his assistants
had comparatively little trouble in finding the hotel
which the fugitive had patronized the night before,
but their success amounted to little.
Grantley had arrived there at almost 1 o'clock in the morning
and signed an assumed name on the register.
He brought a couple of heavy suitcases with him.
He had not been in prison long enough to acquire the characteristic prison pallor to an unmistakable degree,
and a wig had evidently concealed his closely cropped hair.
He was assigned to an expensive room,
but left his newly acquired key at the desk a few minutes later,
and sallied forth on foot.
The night clerk thought nothing of his departure at the time,
owing to the fact that the Times Square Hotel section is quite accustomed to the keeping of untimely hours.
That was the last any of the hotel staff had seen him, however.
His baggage was still in his room, but upon investigation it was found to contain an array of useless and valueless odds and ends, obviously thrown in melee to give weight in bulk.
In other words, the suitcases had been packed in anticipation of the abandonment.
It seemed likely that the doctor had at least one accomplice in his flight for the purpose of aiding him in his arrangements, but not necessarily, sir.
If he had received such assistance, it was quite possible that one of the six young physicians
who had formerly been associated with him in his unlawful experiments had lent the helping hand.
Nick had kept track of them for some time, and now he determined to look them up again.
It was significant, however, that Grantley had apparently made no provision for the escape of Dr. Seibald,
his assistant, who had been in Sing Sing with him.
In the flight, which had followed their ghastly crime against a blind financier, Seabald had shown the white feather, and it was easy to believe that the stern, implacable Grantley, had no further use for his erstwhile associate.
There was no reason to doubt that the escaped convict had gone directly to the theatre after leaving the hotel.
But why had he gone to the latter at all?
And what had become of him after he had broken up Helga Lund's play?
There was no reasonable doubt that Grantley had disguised himself pretty effectually for his flight from Ossining to Newark,
and yet the night-clerc's description was that of Grantley himself.
It followed, therefore, that the fugitive had already shed his disguise somewhere in the big city.
But why not have gone directly from the stopping place wherever it was to the theatre?
Nick gave it up as unimportant.
The hotel episode did not seem to have served any desirable purpose from Grantley's standpoint,
unless on the theory that it was simply meant to confuse the detectives.
However, that might be, it would be much more worthwhile to know
what the surgeon's movements had been after his dastardly attack on the actress.
Had he gone to another hotel in disguise or otherwise?
Had he returned to his former house in the Bronx,
which had been closed up since his removal to Sing Sing.
Had he left town?
Oh, well, done any one of a number of things?
There was room only for shrewd guest.
work for the most part. An exhaustive search of the hotels failed to reveal his presence at any of them that night or later. The closed house in the Bronx was inspected with a similar result. That was about as far as the detective got along that line. Nick had a feeling that the fellow was still in Newark. He had once tried to slip away in an unusually clever fashion and had come to grief. It was fair to assume, therefore, that he would not make a second attempt, especially in view of the fact that the Metropolitan Office,
countless hiding places and countless multitudes to shield a fugitive.
If he was still in the city, though he was almost unquestionably in disguise,
and he could be counted on to see that the disguise was an exceptionally good one.
Sadly, the prospect was not an encouraging one.
The proverbial needle in a haystack would have been easy to find in comparison.
And meanwhile, Helga Lund would not know what real peace of mind was
until she was informed that a vindictive persecutor had been captured.
Three days were spent in this fruitless tracking, and then in the absence of tangible clues,
the great detective turned to something which had often met with surprising success in the past.
He banished everything else from his mind and tried to put himself in imagination in Dr. Grantley's place.
What would this brilliant, erratic but misguided genius, with all of his unbridled enmities and his criminal propensities,
have done that night after having escaped from prison and brought Helgallon's performance to some.
an untimely and harrowing close. It was clear that much depended on the depth of his hatred
for the actress who had repulsed him five years before. Undoubtedly, his enmity for the beautiful
swede was great, else he would not have timed his escape as he had done, or put the first
hours of his liberty to such a use. But would he have been content with what he had done
that first night? If he had considered his end accomplished, he might have shaken the dust of Newark
from his feet at once.
On the other hand, if his thirst for
revenge had not yet been slaked,
it was probable that he was still
lurking near, ready to follow up
his first blow with others.
The more Nick thought about it,
the most certain he became that the latter
supposition was nearer the truth than the former.
Grantley had caused Helga Lund to break down
completely before one of the most important and critical
audiences that had ever been assembled
in Newark, to be sure.
But with a man of his type, was that like
to be anything more than the first step?
He had threatened to ruin a career,
and he was nothing, if not tarow,
in whatever he attempted.
Therefore, so Nick reasoned,
further trouble might be looked for in that quarter.
The thought was an unwelcome one.
The detective had taken every practicable precaution
to shield Helga from further molestation,
but he knew only too well that Cranley's attacks
were of a sort which usually defied ordinary safeguards.
The possibility of new danger to the actress
spurred Nick on to added concentration,
assuming that Grantley was still in Newark, in disguise,
and bent upon inflicting additional injury on the woman he had once loved,
where would he be likely to hide himself,
and what would be the probable nature of his next move?
The detective answered his last question first,
after much weighing of possibilities.
Grantley was one of the most dangerous of criminals,
simply because his methods were about as far removed as possible
from the ordinary methods of criminals.
He had confined himself thus far to crimes in which he had made use of his immense scientific knowledge, surgical and hypnotic.
Accordingly, the chances were that he would work along one of those two lines in the future,
or else along some other in which his special knowledge would be the determining factor.
Moreover, since his escape, he had repeatedly called his mastery of hypnotism to his aid.
That being so, Nick was inclined to believe that he would continue to use it,
especially since Helga had shown herself so susceptible to hypnotic influence.
Could the detective guard against that?
He vowed to do his best, notwithstanding the many difficulties involved,
but it was not until he had carefully balanced the probabilities
in regard to Grantley's whereabouts that Nick became seriously alarmed.
As a consequence of a study of the problem,
an overwhelming conviction came to him that
it would be just like the rascally surgeon to have gone to Helga's own hotel
and another name. The luxury's vent-worth building would be as safe for the fugitive as any other
place, providing his disguise was adequate, safer in fact, for it was the very last place which
would ordinarily fall under suspicion. In addition to the great advantage, it offered the best
opportunity to keep in touch with the developments in connection with the actresses' condition,
and residents there promised comparatively easy access to Helga where the time should come
for the next act in the drama of revenge. This astounding suspecting,
had sprung up full-fledged a nick's brain in the space of a second.
The detective knew that his preliminary reasoning had been sound, however,
and based upon a thorough knowledge of Grantley's characteristic methods.
It was staggering, but his keen intuition told him that it was true.
He was now certain that Grantley would be found housed under the same huge roof as his latest victim,
and that meant that Helga's danger was greater than ever.
The next blow might fall at any minute.
It was very surprising, in fact, that Grantley had remained inactive so long.
The detective hastily, but effectively disguised himself, left word for his assistance, and hurried to the hotel,
wanted to find that his flash of inspiration had come a little too late.
Helga Lund had mysteriously disappeared.
The end of Chapter 28.
Chapter 29 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Librivox recording.
is in the public domain. Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 29
Helga is among the missing.
Dr. Lightfoot, the actress's physician, was greatly excited
and had just telephoned to Nick's house
after the detective had left for the hotel.
The doctor had arrived there about half an hour before
for his regular morning visit.
To his consternation, he had found the night nurse
stretched out on Helga Lund's bed, unconscious
and clad only in her undergarments.
The actress was nowhere to be found.
The anxious lightfoot was a very different calibre from the prison physician at Sing Sing.
He had recognized the nurse's symptoms at once and knew that she had been hypnotized.
He said to work at once to revive her and succeeded in doing so after some little delay.
As soon as she was in a condition to question, he pressed her for all the details she could give.
They were meagre enough, but sufficiently disquieting.
According to a story, a man who,
she had supposed to be Lightfoot himself had gained interest to the suite between 9 and 10 o'clock at night.
He had sent up Dr. Lightfoot's name and his appearance, when she saw him, had coincided with that of the attending physician.
He had acted rather strangely, to be sure, and the nurse had been surprised at his presence of that hour,
owing to the fact that Lightfoot had already made his two regular calls that day.
Before her surprise had had time to become full-fledged suspicion, however, the intruder had fixed her commandingly,
with his eyes, and she had found herself powerless to resist the weakness of will which had frightened
her. She dimly remembered that he had approached her slowly, nearer and nearer, and that his gleaming
eyes had seemed to be two coals of fire in his head. That was all she recalled, except that
she had felt a sense as reeling and leaving her. She had known no more until Dr. Lightfoot broke
the dread spell almost twelve hours afterward. She had met the bogus lightfoot in one of the outer rooms
of the suite, not in the presence of the actress.
Miss Lund had been in a bedroom at the time, but had not yet retired.
The nurse was horror-stricken to learn that a patient was missing,
and equally at a loss to explain how she herself came to be without a uniform.
But Dr. Lightfoot possessed a sufficiently analytical mind
to enable him to solve the puzzle after a fashion even before Nick arrived.
The detective had told him that the sight of an enemy of the actresses had caused her seizure,
and it was easy to put two and two together.
This enemy had doubtless made himself up to represent the attending physician, had hypnotized the nurse, and then passed on unhindered to the actress's room.
He had obviously subdued her in the same fashion, afterwards he had removed the unconscious nurse's uniform and compelled Helga to don it.
The doctor remembered now that the two women were nearly alike in height and built.
The nurse had dark brown hair in sharp contrast to Helga's golden glory, but a week could have remedied that.
neither was there any similarity in features but whales can be counted on to hide such differences.
Dr. Lightfoot, despite his alarm, was rather proud of his ability to reason the thing out alone.
Yet no doubt that Elgar Lund under hypnotic influence had accompanied the strange man from the hotel against a will.
It would have been very easy with no obstacle worth mentioning to interpose.
No one who saw them would have thought it particularly strange to see the nurse and the doctor living together.
At most it would have suggested that they were on unusually good terms and that he was taking out for an airing in his car.
The keen-witted physician had progressed thus far by the time Nick arrived,
but he had not yet sought to verify his deductions by questioning any of the hotel staff.
Nick listened to his theory, put a few additional questions to the nurse,
and then complimented Dr. Lightfoot on his analysis.
That seems to be the way of it, the detective admitted.
A light three-quarter-length court which the nurse off.
and wore over a uniform is also missing together with a hat. The distinctive nurse's skirt
would have shown beneath the court and thereby helped the deception. Confidential inquiries
were made at once and the fact was established that the two masqueraders, one voluntary and one
involuntary, had left the building about ten o'clock the night before. The supposed
Lightfoot had arrived in a smart, closed town car, which had been near enough to the physicians
in appearance to deceive the carriage starter. The chauffeur wore a quiet livery,
a copy of that worn by Lightfoot's driver.
The car had waited, and the two had ridden away in it.
That was all the hotel people could say.
The night clerk had thought it odd that Miss Lund's nurse had not returned,
but it was none of his business, of course,
if the actress's physician had taken her away.
It was of little importance now,
but Nick was curious enough to make inquiries while he was about it,
which brought out the fact that a man had registered at the hotel the morning
after the affair at the theatre,
and had paid his bill and left the evening before.
it may have been only a coincidence but certain features of the man's description as given left room for the belief that dr grantly had really been at the ventward building during that interval
but where was he now and what had he done with the unfortunate actress such as it was the slender clue furnished by the closed car must be followed up for all it was worth that was not likely to prove an easy matter and unless grantley had lost his cunning the trail of the machine would probably lead to nothing even if it could be
followed. Nevertheless, there seemed to be nothing else to work on. The chauffeur of the car
might have been an accomplice, but it was not necessary to suppose so. It looked as if
the Wiley-Grantley had hunted up a machine of the same make as Dr. Lightfoot's and had engaged
it for a week or a month, paying for it in advance. There are many cars to be had in Newark
on such terms, and they are extensively used with people who wish to give the impression for a
limited time that they own a fine car. It's a favorite way of overall.
visitors, and chauffeurs in various sorts of livery go with the carts, both being always
at the command of the renter.
It would not therefore have aroused suspicion if Grantley had furnished a livery of his own
choice for his temporary chauffeur.
The first step was to ascertain the make of Dr. Lightfoot's car.
Another make might have been used, of course, but it was not likely, since the easiest way
to duplicate the machine would have been to choose another having the same lines and color.
Mine is the Paul Grave, the physician informed Nick in response to the latter's question.
Hmm, that made it easy for Grantley, remarked the detective.
But it won't be so easy for us.
The Paul Grave is a favourite car for renting by the week or month,
and there are numerous places where that particular machine might have been obtained.
We'll have to go the rounds.
Nick and his assistants said to work at once with help of the telephone directory
which listed the various agencies for automobiles.
There were nearly 20 of them, but that meant comparative.
relatively little delay with several investigators at work.
A little over an hour after the search began, chick struck oil.
Grantley, disguised as Dr. Lightfoot, had engaged a pearl grave-town car of the latest model at an agency on automobile row,
as that section of Broadway near 59th Street is sometimes called.
The machine had been engaged for a week, not under Lightfoot's name, however,
and Grantley had furnished a suit of livery.
The car had been used by its transient processor for the first time the night before,
had returned to the garage about 11 o'clock and had not since been sent for.
The chauffeur was there, and at Nick's request the manager sent for him.
The detective was about to learn something of Grantley's movements, but was it to be much or
little?
He feared that the latter would prove to be the case.
The end of Chapter 29
Chapter 30 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 30
A shrewd guess
The detective had revealed his identity
And the chauffeur was quite willing to tell all he knew
He had driven his temporary employer
And a woman and nurse's garb
To the yellow anchor line pier near the battery
Grantley
Or Thomas Worthington
As he had called himself in this occasion
Had volunteered the information
That his companion was his niece
Who had been sent for suddenly
to take care of someone who was to sail on the Laurentian at five o'clock in the morning.
Both of the occupants of the car had alighted at the pier,
and the man had told the chauffeur not to wait,
the explanation being that he might be detained on board for some time.
The pier was a long one, and the chauffeur could not, of course,
say whether the pair had actually gone on board the vessel or not.
He had obeyed orders and driven away at once.
Neither the man nor the woman had carried any baggage.
the chauffeur had gathered that the person who was ill was a relative of both of them,
and that the nurse's rather bivaldard manner was due to her anxiety and suddenness of the call.
That was all Nick could learn from him, and an immediate visit to the yellow-uncle lion peer was imperative.
There it was learned that a man and woman, answering the description given,
had been noticed in the crowd of people who had come to bid goodbye to relatives and friends.
One man was sure he had seen them enter a taxi which had just dropped its passengers when interrogated further,
He gave it as his impression that the taxi was a red and black machine.
He naturally did not notice its number, and no one else could be found who had seen even that much.
A wireless inquiry brought a prompt reply from the Laurentian to the fact that no couple of that description were on board or had been seen on the vessel the night before.
It was clear that Grantley had made a false trail for the purpose of throwing off his pursuers.
It had been a characteristic moe, and no more than Nick had expected.
The detective turned his attention to the taxi clow.
A red and black were the distinctive colours of the Flanders-Jackson Taxicap Company's machines.
Consequently, the main garage of that concern was next visited.
Luckily, the man at the pier had been right.
One of the company's taxis had been at the yellow anchorline pier the previous night
and had picked up a couple of new passengers there after having been dismissed by those who had originally engaged it.
Nick obtained the name and address of the chauffeur who was off duty until night.
He was not at home when the detective called, but after a vexatious delay, he was eventually located.
A tip loosened his tongue.
I remember them, well, sir, he declared.
The man looked like a doctor, I thought, and if I'm not mistaken, the woman had on a nurse's uniform under a long court.
I couldn't see a face there on account of the heavy veil she wore.
She acted queer, sick or something.
The fellow told me when they got in to drive them to the Wentworth building.
But when I got up to 14th Street, he said to take them.
to the Metropolitan Building.
I did, and they got out.
That's all I know about it.
I drove them to the Madison Square side,
and they had gone into the building
before I started away,
but that's the last I saw of them.
Well, we have tracked them one step farther,
the check, Nick remarked to his first assistant
as they left, but we haven't tracked them down
by a long shot.
Grantly, doubtless, went through the Metropolitan Building
to Fourth Avenue.
There he either took the subway,
hailed another taxi,
or,
hold on though, maybe there's something in that.
I wonder, now what? Chick asked eagerly.
You remember Dr. Chester, one of the six young physicians who was mixed up with
Grantley in that vivisection case? Of course they do, his assistant answered.
He's taken another name and given up his profession, on the surface at least.
He's living on East 26th Street. Exactly.
A very few blocks from the metropolitan building interrupted his chief.
You mean, I have a half a little bit of the epipuletan building, interrupted his chief.
You mean, I have a hunch, as Patsy would call it, that Grantley has taken Elgar Lund to Chester's house.
Chester had rented one of those old-fashioned run-down bricks across from the armoury.
It's liable to be demolished almost any day to make way for a new skyscraper,
and he doubtless gets it for a song.
He can do what he pleases there, and I wouldn't be surprised to find that
Grantley had been paying the rent and anticipation of something of the sort.
They undoubtedly think we lost sight of Chess.
Lester long ago. By George, I'll wage you, your right, chief, exclaimed Chick.
The fact that we have traced Grantley to the Metropolitan Building certainly looks significant,
in view of Chester's house being so near to it. It's only about five minutes' walk,
and a man with Grantley's resourcefulness could easily have made enough changes in his appearance
and that of Miss Lund while in the Metropolitan Building,
to have made it impossible for the two who entered Chester's House to be identified with those
who had left the Wentworth building an hour or so before. That's the way it's true.
strikes me, agreed the detective.
And if the scoundrel took her there last night,
they are doubtless there now.
I think we are sufficiently justified
enforcing a way into the house and searching it,
and that without delay.
We don't know enough to take the police
into our confidence as yet.
Therefore, the raid will have to be purely on our own responsibility.
We must put our theory to the test at once, however,
without giving Grantley any more time to harm the actress.
Heaven knows he has had enough opportunity to do so already.
Right, we can't wait for darkness or reinforcements.
It'll have to be the daylight job put through just as we are.
If we find ourselves on the wrong centre,
Chester will be in a position to make it hot for us,
or would be if he had any standing, but we'll have to risk that.
Well, if Chester or Shawfield, as he is calling himself now,
is tending to his new business as a commercial chemist,
you ought to be aware at this hour.
That remains to be seen, however.
I imagine at any rate that we can handle any situation that is likely to arise.
If time were not so precious, it would be better to have some of the other boys along with us,
but we don't know what may be happening at this very moment.
Come on, we can plan a campaign on the way.
A couple of tall, loft buildings had elderly replaced part of the old row of houses
on the north side of 26th Street beginning at 4th Avenue.
Nick and his assistant entered the second of these
and took the elevator to one of the upper floors from the eastern corridor of which they could obtain a view of the house occupied by young Dr. Chester together with its approaches back and front.
The house consisted of a high basement occupied by a little hand laundry and three upper stories, the main floor being reached by a flight of iron steps at the front.
Obviously, there was no exit from the body of the house at the rear.
There was only a basement door opening into the tiny backyard and that was connected with their laundry.
The detective decided, as a result of the general knowledge of such houses, not to bother with the back at all.
Their plan was to march boldly up the front stairs outside, fit a skeleton key to the lock, and enter the hall.
They argued that, owing to the fact that the basement was sublet, any crooked work that might be going on
would be likely to be confined to the second or third floor to prevent suspicion of the part of those connected with the laundry.
Therefore, they hoped to find the first floor deserted.
If that were the case, it was improbable that their entrance would be discovered prematurely.
There was doubtless a flight of steps at the rear of the house leading down to the long-grave from the first floor,
but they were practically certain that these rear stairs did not ascend above the main floor.
If they did not, there was no way of retreat for the occupants of the upper part of the house,
except by the front stairs, and, as the detective meant to climb them,
it seemed reasonable to suppose that Grantley, Chester and Company could easily be trapped.
Nick and Chick returned to the street and made their way without the slightest attempt at concealment toward the suspected house.
They met no one whose recognition was likely to be embarrassing and saw no faces at the upper windows as they claimed the outer steps.
They had already seen to it that their automatics were handy, and now Nick produced a bunch of skeleton keys and began fitting them one after another.
The fifth one worked.
They stepped into the hall as if they belonged there, taking care to make no noise, however, and gently close the doors behind.
them. The adventure was well underway and technically speaking they were elderly
housebreakers. The end of chapter 30. Chapter 31 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain. Read by Yoganandah. The Stolen Brain
Chapter 31 How are the Mighty Fallon? The house in which Nick and Chick found themselves
had been a good one, but it was no badly in need of repair.
The main hall was comparatively wide for so narrow a building
and a heavy balustrade fenced off the stairs on one side.
The detectives paused just inside the door and listened intently.
The doors on the first floor were closed and the rooms behind them appear to be untenanted.
At any rate, all was still on that floor.
Shabdured noises of various sorts floated down to them from above, however, seemingly from the third floor.
They looked at each other significantly.
Evidently, their theory had been correct, to some extent, at least.
They approached each of the doors in turn, but could hear nothing.
Under the stairway, they found the expected door leading down to the basement,
but, as it was locked, and there was no key, they paid no further attention to it.
Instead, they started to mount the front stairs to the second floor.
The stairway was old and rather creaky, but the detectives knew how to step in order to make the least noise.
consequently they gained the next landing without being discovered.
Here they repeated the tactics they had used below with a like result.
The sound of voices and footfalls were loud enough, but they all came from the third floor.
The second seemed to be as quiet as the first.
The doors on the second floor, like those on the first, were all closed,
but Nick ascertained that at least one of them was unlocked.
That fact might be of great advantage in preventing discovery in case anyone should start down
unexpectedly from the third floor, for the holes and stairs offered no place of concealment.
The detectives noiselessly removed their shoes before attempting the last flight
and placed them inside the unlocked room which they noiselessly closed again.
They were now ready for the final reconnoisance.
By placing the balls of their stocking feet on the edges of the steps,
they succeeded in mounting to the third floor without making any more noise than that produced
by the contact of their clothing.
A slight pause at the top served to set a sudden.
them that the noises all proceeded from one room at the front of the house.
They were already closed to the door of this room, and they listened breathlessly.
Words were plainly audible now, punctuated at frequent intervals by loud bursts of laughter.
It sounded like a merry-making of some kind.
What was going on behind that close door?
Had they made a mistake in entering the house and wasted precious time and following a will of the whisper,
when Helga Lund might be even then in the greatest danger?
Nick and his assistants feared so, and their hearts sank heavily.
But no.
The next words they heard reassured, but at the same time startled them.
The voice was unmistakably grantly grantly.
That's enough of pantomime, it said, with a peculiar note of cruel, triumphant command.
Now, give us your confession from the daughters of men.
Give it, but remember that you are not a great actress, that you are so bad that you would be hooted from the cheapest stage.
remember that you are ugly and dressed in rags, that you are awkward and ungainly in your movements,
that your voice is like a file.
Remember it not only now but always you will never be able to act.
Your acting is a nightmare and you are a fright when you aren't a joke,
but sure is what you can do in that confession scene.
Nick and Chick-Crew tends as they listen to those unbelievable words
and to the heartless chuckles and whisperings with which they were received.
Apparently, there were several men in the audience, probably Chester and some of Grantley's other former accomplices.
The meaning was plain, all too plain.
The proud, beautiful Helga Lund was once more under hypnotic influence,
and Grantley, with devilish ingenuity, was impressing suggestions upon a poor, tortured brain,
suggestions which were designed to robber of a great ability, not only for the moment,
but unless their baneful effect could be removed for all the rest of a life.
She who had earned the plaudits of royalty in most of the countries of Europe was being made a show-off for the amusement of a handful of ruthless coffers.
It made the detective's blood boil in their veins and their hands clench until their knuckles were white, but they managed somehow to keep from betraying themselves.
The employment of hypnotism in such a way was plainly within the scope of the new law against unwarranted operations or experiments on human beings without their consent,
but it was necessary to secure as much evidence as possible before interfering.
To that end, Nick Carter took out of a pocket case a curious little instrument,
which he was in the habit of calling his keyhole periscope.
It consisted of a small black tube about the length and diameter of a lead pencil.
There was an I-piece at one end.
At the other, a semicircular lens pulsed out.
It was designed to serve the same purpose as the periscope of a submarine torpedo boat,
that is, to give a view on all sides of a given area at once.
The exposed convex lens, when thrust through a keyhole or other small aperture,
received images of objects from every angle in the room beyond
and magnified them in just the same way as a similarly constructed periscope
of a submarine projects about the level of the water
and gives those in the submerged vessel below a view of all objects on the surface within a wide radius.
Nick had noticed that there was no key in the lock of the door.
Taking advantage of that fact, he crept silently forward, inserted the wonderful little instrument in the round upper portion of the hole, and stooping applied his eye to the eyepiece.
He could not resist an involuntary start as he caught his first glimpse of the extraordinary scene within.
The whole interior of the room was revealed to him.
Around the walls were seated three young men of professional appearance.
Nick recognized them all.
They were Dr. Chester, Dr. Willard, and Dr. Graves, three of Grantley's,
former satellites. They were leaning forward or throwing themselves back in different attitudes
of cruel enjoyment and tradition, while Grantley stood at one side, his hawk-like face thrust
out, his keen, pityless eyes fixed malignantly on the figure in the centre of the room.
Nick's heart went out in pity toward that pathetic figure, although he could hardly believe his
eyes. It was that of Helga Lund, but so changed as to be almost unrecognizable. A splendid
golden hair hung in a matted, disordered snorl about her face, which was pale and smudged with
crime. She was clothed from the cheapest of calico wrappers, hideously coloured, soiled and torn,
beneath which showed a bare, dust-dained feet. She had thrown herself upon her knees as a part required.
Her outstretched hands were intertwined beseechingly, and her wonderful eyes were raised to Grantley's
face. In them was the hurt, fearful look of a faithful but abused dog in the presence of
of a cruel master.
Her tattered sleeves revealed numerous bruises
on a perfectly formed arms.
The part of the play which Grantley
had ordered her to render was that
in which the heroine pleaded with her angry
lover for his forgiveness of some
past act of hers which she had
bitterly repented.
She was reciting the powerful lines now.
They had always held a great audience
breathless, but how different
was this pitiable travesty?
It would have been hard enough at best
for her to make them ring true
when delivered before such unsympathetic listeners and in such an incongruous garb,
but she was not at her best.
On the contrary, her performance was infinitely worse than anyone would have supposed possible.
She had unconsciously adopted every one of the hypnotist's brutal suggestions.
There was not a vestige of her famous grace in any of her movements.
The most ungainly slatten could not have been more awkward.
Her words were spoken parrot-like as if learned by rote,
without the slightest understanding of their meaning.
For the most part, they succeeded one another without any attempt at emphasis,
and when emphasis was used, it was invariably in the wrong place.
It was a voice itself, however, which gave Nick and Chick their greatest shock.
The Lund, as she was generally called in Europe,
had always been celebrated for a remarkably musical voice.
But this sorry-looking creature's voice was alternately shrill and harsh.
It pierced and rasped and set the teeth on edge,
just as the sound of her file does.
Nothing could have given a most sickening sense of Grantley's power over the actress
when this astounding transformation,
the slavish adherence to the conditions of abject failure which she had imposed upon her.
It seemed incredible, and yet there it was, plainly revealed to sight and hearing alike.
A subtler, a more uncanny revenge, has probably never been conceived by the mind of man.
The public bragged on which Grantley had so mercilessly caused had only been the
beginning of his scheme of vengeance. He doubtless meant to hypnotize his victim again and again,
and each time to impose his will upon a gradually weakening mind, until she had become a mere
wreck of a former self, and incapable of ever again taking a former place in the ranks of genius.
There was nothing impossible about it. On the contrary, the result was a foregone conclusion,
if Grantley were left free to continue as he had begun. The very emotional susceptibility which had
made Helga Lund a great actress, had also made her an easy victim of hypnotic suggestion,
and if the process went on long enough, she would permanently lose everything that had made her successful.
Outright murder would have been innocent by comparison with such infernal ingenuity of torture.
It seemed to Nick as if he were watching the destruction of a splendid, priceless work of art.
He had seen enough.
He withdrew the little periscope from the keyhole and straightened up.
One hand went to his pocket and came out with an automatic.
Chick followed his example.
They were outnumbered two to one, but that did not deter them.
Helga must be rescued at once, and a tormentor's caught red-handed.
The end of Chapter 31.
Chapter 32 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 32
The Swing of the Pendulum
What was to be done, though?
The burst into the room and seek to overpower the four doctors then and there in Hilga's presence
would place the actress in additional danger.
Nick was convinced, however, that the risk would have to be run.
He had seen evidences that more than one of the men were tiring of the cruel sport
and it might now come to an end at any moment.
He swiftly considered two or three possible plans for drawing
the foe away from their victim, but rejected them all. They would only increase the danger
of a slip of some sort, and he was bent upon capturing the foe as well as releasing the actress.
Furthermore, he did not believe that even Grantley would dare to harm Elga further in his presence,
even if the fortunes of war should give the surgeon a momentary opportunity. He accordingly
motioned to his assistant to follow close behind him and laid his left hand on the knob. He
turned it noiselessly, and was greatly relieved to find that the door,
yielded. Their advent would be a complete surprise therefore, and would find the fort totally
unprepared. Nick paused a moment, then flung the door back violently and strored into the room.
Grant Lee was a ringleader, the most dangerous of the lot at any time, and the fact that
he was an escaped convict would render his resistance more than ordinarily desperate.
The periscope had told Nick where the fugitive stood, and thus the detective was unable to
cover him at once with the unwavering muzzle of the automatic.
Hands up Grantley. Hands up everybody, cried Nick, stepping a little to one side to allow Chick to enter.
His assistant took immediate advantage of the opening and stepped to his chief's side with leveled weapon.
Chick's automatic was pointed at Dr. Chester, however.
After Grantley, the man whose house had been invaded was naturally the one who was likely to put up the hardest fight.
The guilty four were spellbound with astonishment and fear for a moment.
Then the three younger ones jumped to their feet like so many gentlemen.
in the box. Grantley had already been standing where the detective is broken.
Did you hear me, gentlemen? Nick demanded, crooking his finger a little more closely about the trigger.
I said, hands up, and it won't be healthy for any of you to ignore the invitation.
One, two, three. Before the last word passed his lips, however, four pairs of hands were in the air.
Dr. Willard's had gone up first and Grantley's lost.
Thank you so much, the detective remarked with mocked.
politeness. Now, if you will oblige me a little further by lining up against that right wall,
I shall be still more grateful to you. Kindly place yourselves about two feet apart, not less.
I want you, number 60,013, Grantley wins at his prison number, at this end of the line,
next to me with Chester, Elias Schofield next, graves next to him, and will at last. You see,
I haven't forgotten any of my old friends. This disposition of the trap-quartet was designed to
serve two purposes. In the first place, it would remove them from the proximity to Helga Lund,
who crouched from the middle of the floor, was watching the detectives with bival-dard, uncomprehending
eyes. In the second place, it would enable Chick to handcuff them one by one, while Nick stood
ready to fire at an instance notice on anyone who made a false move. It looked for the time
being as if the capture would be altogether too easy to have any spies in it, but the detectives
did not make the mistake of underrating the adversaries, currently especially.
To be sure, they were probably unarmed and had been taken at such a disadvantage that they
would hardly have had an opportunity to draw weapons even if they had borne them. Still, any one of a
number of things might happen. The four doctors had been caught with the goods, as a police
saying is, and they might be expected to take desperate chances as soon as they had time to collect
the scattered wits and to realize the seriousness of their plight.
Carter had shown his usual generalship in the orders he had given so crisply.
Grantley himself, the most to be fear of the lot, was to be placed nearest to the detective,
where Nick could watch him most narrowly. That was not all, however. The detective
meant that Chicker should handcuff Grantley first, and thus put the leader out of mischief
at the earliest opportunity. After him, Chester was to be disposed of, and the two that would
then remain were comparatively harmless in themselves. Grantley doubtless saw through Nick's
tactics from the beginning, and if the detective could have caught the gleam behind the
wily surgeon's half-closed lids, he would have known that Grantley thought he saw an opportunity
to circumvent those tactics. With reasonable promptness, hands still in the air,
Grantley started to obey the detective's order. He moved slowly, grudgingly. His face
distorted with rage and hate. Chester started to follow the older man toward the wall,
but Chick halted him. Hold up there, Schofield, Chester. The young detective ordered.
at a time, if you don't mind.
He wished to prevent the confusion that would result from the simultaneous movement of the four
scoundrels.
Chester paused with a snarl, and Grantley went on alone.
He was making for the corner nearest to Nick, who still stood close to the door.
In doing so, he was obliged to pass in front of the detective.
It had been no part of Nick's plan to have the fugitive take to that corner, and he suddenly
realized that the criminal was crossing a little too close to him for safety.
Here, keep to the left a little.
He began sharply.
Brantley was about four feet away. But before he could complete his sentence, the escape convict
tucked and threw his body sideways. The long arms were elderly above his head, and he left
them where they were. Their abnormal length helped to bridge the distance between him and Nick as
he flung himself at the detector. Nick guessed the nature of the move, as if by instinct, and when he
fired, which he did immediately, it was with depressed muzzle. He had allowed, in other words,
for the swift descent of Grantley's body. In spite of that, however,
the bullet melee ploughed a furrow across a criminal's shoulder and back as he dropped.
It did not disable him in the least, and before Nick could fire again, Grantley's peculiar dive
ended with a vicious impact against his legs, and claw-like hands gripped him about the knees
and in an effort to pull him down. The convict's daring act broke the spell which had held
his companions. Without waiting to see whether Grantley's move was to prove successful or not,
the three of them threw themselves bodily upon Chick, while the latter's attention was
diverted for a moment by his chief's peril.
Dr. Chester, who had been looking for something of the sort from Grantley, was a first to
pounce upon Nick's assistant.
He gripped Chick's right wrist and began to twist it in an attempt to loosen the hold
on the weapon.
Help Grantley, Willard?
He directed at the same time, between his clenched teeth.
Graves and I can handle this fellow, I guess.
Willard started for Nick, while Graves shifted his attack, and edging around behind Chick
seized him by the shoulders.
At the same moment, he placed one knee in the small of the young detective's back.
there could be only one result
Chick was bent painfully back
until his spine felt as if it was about
to crack in two
then in his effort to relieve the strain
he lost his footing and went down
with Chester on top of him and still clinging
doggedly to his wrists
a few feet away Nick was being
heart-pressed by two other rascals
the pendulum of chance had swung
the other way and things looked very
dubious for the detectives and for
what was left of Hellgirl learned
the end of chapter 32
chapter 33 of the stolen brain
by Nicholas Carter
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain
Read by Yoga Anand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 33
A Human Wheel
Chick had thrown himself to one side to ease the pressure on his back
accordingly he struck the floor on his left side
Chester and Graves dropped heavily upon him
before he had more than touched the boats, the former at his feet, the latter on his shoulders.
The bony knees crushed him down, and Graves used to sway to try to pull Chick over on his back.
Nick's assistant had twisted his left wrist out of Chester's grasp as he fell,
but the renegade physician had clung for dear life to the hand which held the automatic.
Chick allowed himself to be pulled over on his back for a very good reason.
His free arm had been unrimmed as he lay on his side, and he wanted an opportunity to use it.
Graves grabbed it at once, but Chick stretched it, all but the upper arm out of his antagonist reach.
Graves would have to lean far over Chick in order to reach the latter's left wrist, and in so doing, he would expose himself not a little.
Or else he would be obliged to edge around on his knees behind Chick's head.
He chose to try the latter maneuver, but Chick fainted with his left arm.
Graves dodged, and Chick's hand darted in behind the other's card, grasping Graves firmly by the
the hair. Almost at the same instant the young detective jerked his right foot loose and gave
the startled Chester a tremendous kick in the stomach. The master of the house gave a grunt and
doubled up like a jack knife. His grip on Chick's right wrist relaxed simultaneously and its
owner tore it away. Chester had involuntarily lurched forward and the actor brought his head
well within the reach of Chick's right hand which was now once more at Liberty.
While Nick's assistant held the struggling braves at arm's length by the hair with one hand,
he brought down the butt of the automatic, with all the strengths he could bring to bear on Chester's lowered pole.
He had chuggled the weapon in a twinkling so that it was clubbed when it descended.
The blow was surprisingly effective, considering the circumstances.
Chester groaned and toppled forward over chick's legs.
The detective's assistant was ready to follow up his advantage at once.
He wriggled about until he was facing graves,
And then he began pulling that individual toward him by their hair.
Tears of pain were in grave's eyes, and he struck out blindly in a desperate effort to break Chick's relentless hold.
The attempt was a failure, however.
Despite all of grave struggles, he was irresistibly drawn nearer and nearer.
The fact that he wore his hair rather long helped Chick to maintain his grip.
Presently, the young physician's head was near enough to allow Chick to strike it with his club weapon.
He drew the latter back to the elbow, but his enemy seeks to.
what was coming suddenly changed his tactics. Instead of trying to pull away any more, he ducked
and threw himself into Chick's arms. The revolve but naturally missed its mark, and for a time,
they fought at two close quarters to permit such a blow to be tried again. Graves had seized
chick around the body as he closed him, and he drew himself close, burying his head on Chick's
chest. Chick still maintain his hold of his opponent's hair, however, and now retaliated to be
rolling over on Graves, working on his feet from under the unconscious gesture as he did.
Graves snuggled as close as he could to avoid the dreaded blow, but Chick now being on top was able to hold Graves' head on the floor by main force, while he arched his own powerful back and began to tear his body from his antagonist straining arms.
Graves was keen. There was no doubt about that. The pulling of the hair must have been tortured to him, but he did not relinquish his hold about Chick's waist. His eyes were closed, his waist drawn and twisted with pain, but he clung obstinately and without a whimper.
Slowly but surely nevertheless, Chick raised himself and the space between their laboring breasts widened.
Graves' hold was being loosened bit by bit, but it are not broken.
As a matter of fact, Chick did not wait for it to break.
It was not necessary for one thing.
And for another, he realized that it would be a kindness to Graves to end the painful struggle as soon as possible.
Accordingly, as soon as he had raised himself enough to deliver a reasonably effective blow with a clubbed automatic,
he struck downward with carefully controlled aim and strength.
The butt of the little weapon landed in the middle of the physician's forehead.
A gasp followed and the tugging arms fell away.
Chick had floored his two opponents.
He got quickly to his feet and looked to see if Nick needed him.
Chester and Graves ought to be handcuffed before they had time to revive,
but that could wait a little if necessary.
It was well that Chick finished his business just when he did, for Nick was in trouble.
Dr. Grantley was not an athlete,
and his long, lanky bill gave little promise of success against Nick Carter's trained muscles and varied experience in physical encounters of all sorts.
On the other hand, the convict was possessed of amazing whiriness and endurance, and although he was not cut out for a fighting man,
his keen, quick mind made up for most of his bodily deficiencies.
His original attack, for instance, was an example of unconventional but startlingly successful strategy.
On the surface, it would have seemed that such a man without weapons had preciously,
little chance of gaining any advantage over Nick Carter, armed as the latter was, and a good
four feet away. But Grantley followed up his impetuous dive in a most surprising way. His long arms
closed about Nick's legs, but instead of endeavouring to pull the detective down in the ordinary
way, Grantley unexpectedly plucked his legs apart with all his strength. The detective's balance
instantly became a very uncertain quantity, for the surgeon's abnormally long gorilla-like arms
tore his legs apart and pushed them to right and left with us.
astonishing ease. Nick felt like an involuntary colossus of roads as he was forced to straddle
farther and farther. He threw one hand behind him to brace himself against the wall,
reversed his automatic and lean forward, bent upon knocking the enterprising Grantley on the head.
The fugitive had other plans, however. Just as Nick bent forward,
Grantley suddenly thrust his head and shoulders between the detective's outstretched limbs
and heaved upward and backward. The detective was lifted from his feet and pitched forward,
head downward. His discomfiture was a desired shock to him, but he neither lost his presence
of mind nor his grip on his weapon. Had he struck on his head and shoulders, as Grantley evidently
intended he should, the result might have been exceedingly disastrous. The detective would almost
certainly have been plunged into unconsciousness, and his neck might easily have been broken. Nick
saw his danger and a flash, though, drew his head and shoulders sharply inward and downward,
and at the same time grasped one of Grantley's thighs with his left hand.
The result would have been ludicrous under almost any other circumstances.
The detective's lowered head-vent, in turn, between Grantley's legs and their intertwined bodies
formed a wheel, such as trained athletes sometimes contrived.
This counter-move of Nick's was as much of surprise to the surgeon as the latter's
curious mode of attack had been to the detective.
They rolled over and over a couple of times until Nick, finding himself momentarily on top,
brought them to a stop.
so awkward by their positions that neither was able to strike an effective blow at the other.
Nick had the upper hand temporarily, however, and proceeded to wrench himself loose.
He had been busily engaged in this when Willard had rushed to Grantley's assistance.
That put still another phase on the situation at once.
The end of Chapter 33
Chapter 34 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby-Wox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 34
Nick's extremity
The newcomer saw his opportunity
and snatched up a chair
as he rushed toward the tangled combatants
Nick heard him coming
but did not have time to extricate himself
from Grantley's target grasp
He raised his weapon though
and was about to fire at Willard
when he saw that the latter was directly
between him and Elgar Lund
Under the circumstances
the detective did not dare to fire for fear
of hitting the actress. He kept
Grantley down as best he could
with his left hand and waited for Willard
with his right hand still extended,
holding the automatic. He might
have an opportunity to fire, but if not,
he could at least partially ward off the
expected blow from the chair.
Just as Willard paused and swung
the chair aloft, Grantley managed
partially to dislodge the detective, with a result
that Nick was obliged to lower his right arm
quickly. Otherwise, he would
undoubtedly have lost his balance completely
and the surgeon-convict was
I've had the upper hand in another second or two.
This involuntary lowering of Nick's guard
served the purpose that Grantley had intended.
Willard's cumbersome weapon descended
with the uninterrupted force
on the detective's shoulders and the back of his head.
Nick lowered the latter instinctively
and thus saved himself the worst of the blow.
Nevertheless, the impact of the chair was stunning and its force.
The detective fell to sense as reeling,
but he somehow managed to retain them
and to grasp a chair which he blindly wrenched from Willard's grasp.
As he did so, however, Grantley succeeded in throwing him off and scrambling to his feet.
Nick followed his example almost simultaneously, dropped his rover into his pocket, for fear it would fall into the hands of one of his enemies,
and, grasping the heavy chair with both hands, whirled it about his head.
His two antagonists dodged it hurriedly, thus clearing a space about him.
Their blood was up, however, especially Grantley's, and they felt sure that the detective had by no means recovered from the blow.
Catch the chair, Willard?
cried Grantley.
The younger physician obeyed instantly,
grasping the round of the chair with both hands
and thus preventing Nick from using it to any advantage.
The detective shouted forward into the pit of Willard's stomach,
but the newcomer managed to return his halt.
He guessed that Grantley merely meant him to keep Nick busy in front
in order to allow of a rear attack, and such was a case.
While the detective was occupied with Willard,
Grantley stole behind him and plunged his hand into Nick's pocket
in search of the automatic.
The detective was obliged to let go off the chair
and clamp his hand on Grantley's wrist.
He was still feeling very groggy
as a result of the punishment he had recently received
and a thrill of apprehension went through him.
Grantley's hand was elderly deep in his pocket
grasping the butt of the weapon.
And there was nothing about the wrist hold
to prevent the criminal from turning the muscle
of the automatic toward his side and pulling the trigger.
Incidentally, Nick foresaw that he could not hope
to hold the chair with one hand
Willard would twist it away and turn it upon him.
He was right.
That was precisely what Willard did.
Nick let go just in time to escape a sprained, if not broken wrist, and dodged back.
In order to keep his hand in Nick's pocket,
Grantley was in oblige to circle about between the detective and Willard.
That saved Nick from the latter for the moment,
and simultaneously the detective shifted his hole from Grantley's wrist to his hand,
pressing his thumb in under the ladder in such a way that it
prevented the hammer of the automatic from descending.
It was just in time for Grantley pulled the trigger almost the same moment.
Thanks to Nick's foresight, however, the weapon did not go off.
Grantley cursed under his breath, but he had not emptied his bag of tricks.
He suddenly drove his head and shoulders in between Nick's right arm and side
and threw his own left arm around with a backhand movement in front of the detective's body.
The move threw the detective backward over Grantley's knee, which was ready for him.
At the same time, the criminal, whose right hand had remained on the weapon in Nick's pocket,
began to draw the automatic out and to the rear.
In other words, he was forcing the detective in one direction with the left arm
and working the revolver in the other with his right.
It was manifestly impossible for Nick to stand the two opposing pressure for long.
Either he must break the hold of Grantley's left arm, which pressed across his chest like an iron band,
or else he must let go of the weapon.
The former seemed out of the question in that position, and to relinquish his hold and the revolver meant a shot on the side, which, with Grantley's knowledge of anatomy, would almost certainly prove fatal.
Backward went Nick straining right arm, inward and the hard muzzle of the weapon.
Grantley was twisting the automatic now, hoping to loosen the detector's grasp all the quicker.
Something was due in a few moments, and it promised to be a tragedy for the detective.
Then, to cap the climax, Willett circled about the two combatants like a hawk ready to swoop down on its prey
and seeing Nick's head protruding from under Grantley's left arm, hold off and let drive with the chair.
The surgeon received part of the blow, but Nick's head stopped enough of it to end the strange tussle.
The detective crumpled up, but Grantley held him from the floor and rested the weapon from the nerveless fingers.
He withdrew it from Nick's pocket and put it to the detective's left breast,
determined to end it all without fail.
It was at that supreme moment
that Chick charged up and took a hand.
Nick's assistant reached Willett first.
The latter's back was toward him
and he was just in the act of drawing back the chair.
Chick's club weapon descended on his head without warning
and Willard pitched forward on his face.
It was not until then that Chick saw the automatic
at his chief's breast.
There was no time to reach grantly,
not a second to waste.
The young detective did what Nick and his men
seldom allowed themselves to do. He turned his automatic around again and shot to kill.
Nick's own life depended upon it and there was nothing else to do. The bullet struck
Grantley full between the ice and the escaped convict dropped without a sound. The battle was over and won.
Dr. Hiram A. Grantley, so-called master surgeon and monster of crime, would never return to
sing-sing to serve out his unexpired term. But neither would he trouble the world or Helga Lund again.
If the truth were known, it would doubtless be found that Warren Kennedy heaved a sigh of profound
relief when he heard of Cranley's death. It left no room for anxiety over the possibility of another
hypnotic escape. Dr. Chester, Willard and Graves were speedily brought to trial, and they were
convicted of aiding and abetting the deceased Cranley in an illegal experiment in hypnotism.
on the person of the great Swedish actress.
As for Helga Lund, she was a nervous wreck for nearly a year,
but gradually, under the care of the best European physicians,
she recovered her health and a confidence in herself.
She was now returned to the stage,
and Nick Carter, who has seen her recently in Paris,
declares that she is more wonderful than ever.
He wishes, he could have spared her,
that last humiliating ordeal,
but she is wise enough to know that,
but for him and chick,
the man she had despised would have made his dreadful vengeance complete.
The end of Chapter 34.
Chapter 35 of the Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 35.
Mystery 47
Nick had just concluded the preceding case
when he received a request to come down to police headquarters at his own.
earliest convenience. The request came from the inspector in charge of the detective bureau,
and Nick hastened to comply as Inspector Ward was an old and tried friend. The inspector
looked worried as he greeted Nick in his private room at headquarters. Nick, said the inspector,
getting right down to business, this is undoubtedly the strangest case that has ever come to the
attention of the department. At least, while I have been connected with it, we have called it
Mystery 47, on account of its similarity to the case which startled Paris a few years ago.
That, if you will remember, occurred at 47 Rue Belon.
The bodies of six men have been found, one after another, and all of them within ten feet of each other.
Another puzzling feature about the murder is that there does not seem to have been any motive for any of them,
as the bodies, when found, did not appear to have been robbed.
Still another strange feature is that, so far, the coroner's office has not been.
been able to determine what has been the cause of the death in any of the cases.
We have absolutely no clues on which to work.
Whoever the assassins is, he has covered his tracks with the hand of a master.
He has not left the slightest thing on which we can work.
There has not appeared to be any reason for the shooting down of the people that have fallen
at the hand of the murderer.
In all my experience, I have never known of a case where murders have been committed without
a reason.
But in this instance, there does not seem to be the slightest reason for the man to have
struck down the people that he has, as the murdered men were in different walks of life,
and so far as we can learn, none of them had an enemy in the world.
Another strange feature of the case is that the bodies all present exactly the same appearance.
On each, he has found a small speck of blood over the heart, no other marks of violence are visible,
and the coroner's physician says that he has not been able to find any trace of poison in any of the bodies.
So far, the papers have not paid much attention to the mystery, but I have concluded
that the men whom I have assigned to the case will not be able to solve it, and so I sent for you,
as I know that Nick Carter has never yet failed to get at the bottom of any case.
You're very kind to say that, but I'm afraid that you overestimate my work, said Nick modestly.
I will undertake to solve the mystery for you, however.
Of course, I will not be hampered with instructions from anybody,
as a manner in which I work is not always in accordance with the set rules of some of the detectives,
continued Nick.
you will not be interfered with in any way
and any assistance that you may need will be furnished
you gladly said the inspector
now if you will commence at the beginning and tell me all about the case
I will go to work at once said Nick
the inspector told Nick all that he knew
from the finding of the first body
Nick listened attentively
when the inspector had finished
Nick said kindly give me a detail according to the spot where these men were found
are you familiar with the country surrounding Astoria
asked the inspector.
Fairly, sir?
Well, about two miles north of Astoria is an old lane that runs through a clump of trees.
I'm familiar with the place, said Nick.
Right on the edge of these woods, the murdered men were found.
That would bring it within a hundred yards of Weedon's place,
the man who keeps an automobile repair shop.
Precisely.
I see that you are acquainted with the locality?
Nick smiled, I did not interrupt.
You looked as if you thought that Weedon might be mixed up in it,
when I mention his name, said the inspector.
It's not possible that you suspect him?
I don't know.
Do you think that he is? asked Nick.
Certainly not.
What makes you so certain?
Because Jack Whedon's name is above suspicion.
His reputation is that of a sober and industrious man.
His neighbours all bear testimony to that fact.
I have seen other men whose neighbours thought that they were above suspicion,
and they afterward found out their mistake, quietly replied Nick.
The inspector's test.
carried a moment and then asked, what do you suggest might have been the object of the matters?
That is not an easy question to answer offhand, replied Nick.
You say that a sum of money was sworn on the body of each?
Was the sum always about the same?
Now, there were different amounts sworn in each.
On one over $3,000, it was in a valid which was in the upper west pocket,
where anybody could see it.
There were also about $45 in the pocket of the trousers,
so that the valid could have been taken,
and there would still have reminded some sufficient to divert suspicion.
At first glance that would remove robbery as a motive for the murderous.
It certainly does.
What do you know about Sweden? asked Nick.
Nothing, except what I have told you, replied the inspector.
Then I will give you a short history of the man that you say bears such an excellent reputation.
I'm sure that you will be surprised when you hear what I have to tell you.
I'll be pleased to listen, Nick, said the inspector.
Fifteen years ago he was convicted of highway robbery in Boston and was sentenced to five years in prison at hard labor.
He served that term.
Two years before that, he was sent up for the same offense, that time serving a year and a month.
He had some hold on a man who had friends in politics.
They had a sentence made light, or he would have still been wearing prison clothes.
Besides these, he has had several other run-ins with the police, but somehow has managed to escape.
after he had left a Massachusetts prison
it was said that he had sailed for Australia
that evidently was a blind to throw off the Boston police
who had been watching him on several other cases
now what do you think of the record of the man that you said
enjoyed the confidence of his neighbours
asked Nick as he concluded
are you sure that you are not mistaken in the man
asked the inspector
it hardly seems possible that a man could get such a reputation
and be the villain that you say he is
I'm sure that it is the man
Nick then arose from his chair and strolled over to the window.
Quick, come here, he cried.
The inspector hurried to the window.
What is it? he asked.
Nick pointed to two men who were just passing.
That's the man of whom you were talking a few minutes ago.
Jack Whedon?
Yes, that is he.
Do you know the other man? asked Nick.
No, I don't, I'm sure.
I do.
It's Billy Young, one of the most noted burglars in Newark.
The men were powerfully built,
The appearance of the men was peculiar.
Weiden looked like an honest, hard-working man, while Young looked like a typical thug.
His battle-scarred face bore the marks of dissipation as well as the marks of numerous encounters.
It was a most remarkable thing that they should be in the locality where the police had the headquarters.
It was evidently that they were there for a purpose.
What was it?
What do you think of your honest workman now?
asked Nick, with his quiet smile as the inspector watched the men.
I guess that, as usual, you're right, replied the inspector.
Look, they have seen you from the window and have disappeared, cried Nick suddenly.
Let's follow them, said the inspector excitedly.
No, don't do it. Leave that to me, said Nick, as he left the room.
Going downstairs, he called to a man who had been waiting for him in the hall,
whispering a few words into the man's ear, he nodded in the direction that the men had taken.
The man left the building on the mission which Nick had given him.
Nick went upstairs to the room where he had left the inspector.
It's all right, he said.
I've sent one of my men after them, and you'll find out where they go.
Well, what do you want to do now, Nick? asked the inspector.
The first thing will be to go to the morgue and see those bodies,
and if you have no objection, I will bring a young surgeon with me.
He's a very clever chap, and one who can be depended upon to keep his moat shut.
I hope that there will be no objection to his coming.
Not the slightest.
This case is in your hands now, and you are full charge to bring whom you will, and to do as you please.
Well then, let's be off, as every minute may be valuable.
Just as they were about to leave the room, a great commotion was heard in the hall, and the sound of excited voices reached their ears.
I wonder what the racket is all about, cried the inspector.
At that moment, the door burst open, and a man bareheaded staggered into the room.
The end of Chapter 35.
Chapter 36 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Liberty Vox recording is in the public domain
Read by Yoga Anand
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 36
Nick Carter's narrow escape
The man was bleeding from a great wound in his right temple
His face was pale as death
And he was gasping for breath
Great heavens, it's sweet! exclaimed Nick Carter
As he sprang forward
Who has done this, Tom?
Billy Young, Ween.
As he gasped out the words,
Sweet's head fell forward.
He tried to finish the sentence,
as Passmotic Shudder ran through his frame,
and he was dead.
Nick made a hasty examination of the body
and found that, beside the wound in the temple,
Sweet had received a knife lunch through each lung.
It was miraculous how he had kept his strength enough
to enable him to stagger back into the office.
The inspector and Nick gazed at the body.
for a moment and sorrowful silence.
Poor Tom, said Nick.
You did your best, but if I live,
your cowardly murder shall be avenged.
The inspector did not know who the murdered man was
until Nick explained that Sweet was a man
he sent to shadow Weeden and Young.
Immediately after the explanation,
a general alarm was sent out
so that steps could be taken to arrest the assassins
before they had time to leave the city.
After this had been done,
Nick and the inspector, accompanied by the young surgeon,
made the way to Brooklyn. They called first on the inspector in charge of the Brooklyn Detective
Bureau, to whom the inspector explained the nature of their business. The inspector was astounded
when he learned from Nick Carter the character of Veden. The man bore such an excellent reputation
for sobriety and honesty that he could scarcely credit what he heard. If you have any doubt
as to the correctness of what I have just told you, here are proofs that I am sure will satisfy you,
said Nick. He handed the inspector a document and a photograph.
from the Rokes Gallery of Boston numbered 1313.
The inspector read the document carefully and scrutinized the picture.
The information seems to be correct, Mr. Carter,
as he handed the paper and the photograph back to Nick.
It seems that Whedon is a dangerous character, as well as a cunning hypocrite.
After a moment's pause, he added,
I agree with Mr. Carter.
Weiden has either committed these murders or else been a party to them.
I'm ready to aid him in running down the criminals.
Nick explained that he had brought a young surgeon with him so that a careful examination of the bodies might be made.
The party at once went to the morgue.
Upon the arrival there, the doctor went skillfully to work.
On the left side of each body was sworn a slight puncture just over the heart.
Nick followed the doctor's examination very carefully, as did the two other detectives.
The doctor, as he probed the puncture of the last body, gave a startled exclamation.
What is it? demanded Nick.
"'Wait a minute,' said the doctor, as he proceeded to cut away a small portion of the flesh.
The knife ran against a minute metallic substance.
A close examination showed that it was a small needle, one end having a slight opening in the end of it.
The needle had been driven clean through the heart.
On the point of it was a bright yellow spot.
The doctor, after some trouble, drew it forth.
How it had been driven into the body was a mystery.
The doctor made a hasty examination of the other bodies, and from the heart of each other
he drew forth a similar instrument of death.
Never before, he said,
have I seen so unique a manner employed in putting a fellow creature out of the world?
The five pieces of steel have pierced almost in the same spot,
the deviation being less than one-sixteenth of an inch.
One thing is certain.
These men all died instantly.
Why are you certain? asked Nick.
Might they not have died before these murderous needles were driven into their hearts?
Such a thing is impossible, said the doctor.
They all died in the same way.
Nick Carter was puzzled.
If Jack Whedon was a murderer, he had chosen a strange way to slay his victims.
Had these men been enticed to his place?
And if so, how?
Had they been drugged?
The doctor said they had not.
But that the yellow spot on the point of each needle was Evara, a powerful poison,
which is used by the fanatics in India.
Who could have secured this poison?
wondered Nick.
Here perhaps was a clue which would enable him to,
run to earth the murder of these men who had met such a strange and untimely end.
One thing that puzzled Nick and also Inspector Ward and the doctor was how these pits of steel
had been projected into the heart of each of the victims. It seemed preposterous that they could
have been shot into the bodies. During the doctor's operations, the bodies lay exposed on the marble
slaps. The party was about to leave the morgue when the ambulance came in. In it was a dead body
of a man who had been found in exactly the same sport as the other victims.
His death had been caused in the same manner.
A piece of needle with its fatal yellow point had been driven through the man's heart.
When the doctor was making an examination of the last body,
a shadow crossed one of the windows of the morgue.
A face was flattened against one of the dingy paints of glass.
It remained but an instant only.
None of the party had seen it.
The startling report of a pistol shot rang out through the stillness of the night.
With a loud crash, the shattered glass fell to the floor as the bullet spread into the
room. Simultaneously with the report, a cry went up from the driver of the ambulance as he fell to the
floor in his death agony. Unfortunately for him, he had just stepped in front of Nick Carter and received
the bulletman for the detective. Nick was a first wreck-aware presence of mine. In an instant,
he was out into the street. A block away, he saw a man spring into a motor car and drive furiously
away. While he could not see the man's face, Nick would have sworn from his general appearance that the
man who jumped into the machine was Jack
Whedon. The end of
Chapter 36. Chapter 37
of the stolen brain
by Nicholas Carter. This
Liberty Box recording is in the public domain.
Read by
Yoganand. The Stolen Brain
Chapter 37
Fighting against Oats.
Did the man in the motor car
fire the shot which had killed the driver of the ambulance?
Nick was certain that it was so.
it was useless to try to pursue the man on foot.
As Nick was about to re-enter the morgue, Inspector Ward came out.
His face was white with excitement.
Did you see the man who fired a shot? he asked.
Yes.
Who is it?
I'm positive that it was Veden.
Did you see his face?
No, I didn't.
But from the man's gentle appearance, I could have sworn it was he.
This is two murders that Viden has been guilty of today.
The first was poor, sweet.
The second, the driver of the ambulance, said Nick.
Nick. It was a mighty lucky thing for you that the driver stepped in front of you just as he did.
Or we should not have at the services of Nick Carter, the famous detective, at our disposal now.
Yes, the poor fellow saved my life, said Nick. The bullet evidently was meant for me.
The doctor, having finished his work, paid the detectives good night. After he had gone, they walked slowly up the street. A taxicab was driving by the corner.
Nick and Inspector Ward hailed the chauffeur, having made a bargain with him.
they directed them to drive them to Whedon's shop.
He looked at them very hard.
It was evident that he had recognized them
and had purposely thrown himself in their way.
If they had seen the gleam in the chauffeur's eye,
as he made a motion to three men
who stood in the shadow of a doorway on the other side of the street,
they would have been on their guard.
They did not see it, however.
The vehicle was driven rapidly in the direction of Grant Avenue.
The machine had not left the corner more than a couple of minutes
when a taxi cab satire with drawn curtains throw up.
The three men who had been standing on the other side of the street jumped in and drove in the direction of the vehicle occupied by the inspector and Nick Carter.
Jack Whedon was not among the men who was following the detectives.
Had he anything to do with them?
They probably were his accomplices.
Their falling of the detectives sported no good to men who were trying to solve mystery 47.
Great masses of dark clouds obscured the starts.
Fierce gusts of wind howled dismally through the branches of the trees.
the roadside. Peels of thunder broke the stillness of the night. Bivid flashes of lightning
illuminated the sky for an instant and may the roadway as light as stay. I'm afraid this may upset
a plan as he looked out of the taxi window. That instant a gust of wind blew his head into the road.
It fell into a pool of water. With an exclamation, Nick shouted to the chauffeur to stop.
The man obeyed and Nick sprang to the ground. As he did so, he saw the taxi that was following.
When the motor-car stopped, the taxi stopped also.
Nick gave a glance at the chauffeur and saw that there was a diabolical grin on his face as he sat on the box looking down at him.
That chauffeur, Nick muttered to himself, his Phil Malloy.
The chauffeur of the motor-cars seemed to have grown nervous.
He seemed back at the taxi, and with a muttered oath was about to drive on when Nick stopped him.
What's a matter? asked the inspector as he put his head out of the window.
We are being followed, replied Nick.
By whom?
By that taxi with four men in it.
It is now waiting for us to go on.
How do you know?
Nick quietly told Inspector Ward about the chauffeur Meloy.
He is one of the most desperate characters I have ever met, said Nick.
And as for him being a licensed chauffeur, that is all wrought.
That taxi probably contains Sweden and some of his pals.
Let us go back and arrest Sweden and young if they are in the party.
As they were about to start up the road, the chauffeur of the motor car made a motion with his arm.
It was evidently a signal to the chauffeur of the taxi,
as he suddenly threw in the clutch and turned around, dashed off in the opposite direction.
Too late, cried Nick.
They saw as enough skipped.
Fifteen minutes later, the motor-car drew up at Whedon's shop and the detectives got out.
They found no one in the shop, which contained four rooms.
There's nothing here, said Nick.
Let's get back into the machine.
The chauffeur had been watching their every movement.
He peered anxiously up and down the road by which he had come,
expecting no doubt the arrival of his accomplices in the taxi.
Not a drop of rain had fallen as yet from the threatening clouds that swept furiously overhead,
though the winds tore the branches from the trees.
Now show me the exact spot where these bodies were found, said Nick.
The inspector walked down the road.
Who's that? Nick asked, as his quick eye perceived the figure of a ragged-looking old man was sat by the roadside.
His clothing was in tatters. His long hair was matted on his shoulders,
and his torn shoes were tied with bits of coffee.
In his right hand he carried a heavy staff.
He appeared to be either short-sighted or partially blind.
Oh, that old fellow bobbed up here about a week or so ago, said Inspector Ward.
What is he?
Oh, I guess he's a tramp, anyhow.
He looks as if he had been on the road for 40 years and more.
This is a peculiar neighbourhood for him to be in?
What's his business here?
Why, he's begging here, I suppose?
Oh, said Nick quietly.
It certainly was a peculiar location for a beggar to choose.
for few people passed there, and those who did were not of the class who had money to give away even to a poor old beggar reason Nick to himself.
The murders were committed right near this spot.
Were they not? Nick asked, pointing to a place about ten feet from where the age tramps sat.
Precisely, the bodies were found right there.
What's the name of that old fellow?
They call him Benny the bum.
He seems to be blind.
I believe he is, and deaf to.
At least that's what they all say around here.
I don't know about that.
I'll test him by asking him
which he would rather have, a quarter or a dollar.
Inspector Ward laughed.
Nick Carter was serious.
Perhaps Benny the bum was not so blind as he would have people believe.
He probably was like the majority of his calling, a fraud.
I'm going to talk to him, said Nick as he crossed the road.
Hello, Benny.
Nick spoke in tones that an ordinary deaf man could hear.
The tramp answered at once.
well, what do you want?
I've got a charitable friend with me
who will pay you well if you will tell me
what mark to put on his gate so that
other tramps will see it and keep out.
The beggar gave a hoarse chuckle.
Maybe he owns a bank.
If he does, he can pay me well.
No, he don't, Nick replied.
But he will give you ten dollars if you will tell him.
After the first few words, the conversation had been conducted
in ordinary tones, Nick had led the supposed tramp on cunningly.
He had gained his point.
The beggar was not deaf, and he must have heard the sounds of the various murders committed so near him.
Was it possible that this tramp had had any hand in these ghastly acts?
He is no more blind than he is deaf, Nick Mama to himself.
I'll bet he's an accomplice of Jack Whedon.
I four men stole quietly into the road through a hole in the hedge.
They sprang forward with savage oats.
They were the same men who had followed Nick Carter and the chief in the taxicab.
Before the deductives had a chance to draw their weapons, they found themselves looking into the muscles of four shining revolvers.
With an exultant cry, the apparent blind beggar sprang to his feet cursing like a demon.
The end of Chapter 37
Chapter 38 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 38
The Fight in the Woods
Nick and the inspector were taken aback by this turn of affairs
As a beggar hobbled down the road
His hoarse laugh came back mockingly
At the same moment that the four men appeared
Two others came from the direction of Veden's house
They were Melloy and the chauffeur of the taxi
The question that flitted through Nick Carter's mind was
Where was Sweden
None of the men who confronted the detectives
spur any resemblance to Weiden or Billy Young.
Was it possible that the old triumph was none other than Weiden in disguise?
He was evidently a fraud.
Nick made up his mind that he would look after the beggar
when they had finished with the rascals who had now confronted them.
That they would be able to overcome the men who now threatened them.
Nick was almost certain.
He had been in tighter places before,
and his calmness and courage had gotten him out of many a whole.
after Malloy and his companion had arrived
the detectives were ordered to throw up their hands
as they were covered by the guns of the men
they were compelled to submit
at this moment the rain comments to come down in torrents
the flashes of lightning and the awful peals of thunder
made the scene a weird one
Meloy see what these flycops have on them
commanded the leader of the gang
he was about to obey the order when a terrific peal of thunder
accompanied by a blinding flash of lightning
struck a tree at the side of the road
The tree fell with a tremendous crash across the road, burying two of the men under it as it fell.
The rest fell back, awed for the moment.
It seemed as if the heavens had opened and sent a messenger to the aid of the detectives.
The instance delay had given Nick Carter and the inspector time to draw their revolvers,
and when the villains had recovered from their surprise,
they were looking down the shining barrels of the weapons that were in the hands of the two detectives.
The tables are turned, rang out in Nick's clear tones.
on your guns, or we will shoot you full of holes.
The only answer that the men made was a report from two of their guns.
They did not propose to be taken without a fight.
The first shot that was fired struck the inspector on the shoulder.
The second one just craced Nick's head, inflicting a slight scalp wound.
The inspector wounded as he was pluckily written the fire of the villains.
One of them gave an unearthly yell and dropped to the ground with a bullet through his heart.
Nick's reward was spoke quickly and the man at whom he fired,
dropped to the ground without a cry. Nick had shot him through the head. The inspector
had fainted from the loss of blood. This left Nick alone with Meloy and the chauffeur of the taxi.
Both of these men were great, husky fellows, and besides, they knew that it was to be a fight
to the death. Meloy sprang at Nick with a horrible oath. He was swallowed by the chauffeur.
The latter struck a terrific blow at Nick with his fist, knocking Nick's revolver from his
grasp. A yell of triumph came from Malloy as he saw that the detective was unarmed.
It looked as if Nick Carter was about to meet his doom.
Nick waited patiently the onslaught of his assailants as he dashed toward him with yells of savage delight.
As the chauffeur of the taxi reached him, Nick struck out with his left and the fellow staggered back under the force of the blow landing on his back on the ground.
In an instant he was on his feet and made a savage rush at Nick.
Malloy aimed a terrific blow at Nick's head.
The detective adroitly dodged the blow meant for him and gave him.
his cell into a couple of heavy blows in rapid succession.
Malloy went down like a log and lay on the ground motionless.
He evidently had enough to last him for a while at least.
The driver, who was a boxer of no little skill,
tried to bival to the detective by cunning fainting,
hoping that he would be able to get Nick to leave an opening through which
he could deliver a blow that would settle the detective for a moment
until he could draw on knife,
and then he would quiet Nick Carter for all time.
The rascal did not know that Nick was a past
master at the art of boxing. Try as hard as he could, he was not able to break through Nick's
guard and in a few moments he was panting for breath while Nick was laughing at the fellow's desperation.
As a last resort, he tried to kick the detective, but again he was unsuccessful.
Finally, he made one last desperate effort to strike Nick in the stomach. Nick stepped quickly
to one side and dealt him a terrific blow on the side of the jaw. The fellow spun around for a moment
and then fell to the ground as if he had been struck on the head with a club.
Nick turned around to see what had become of the other two men that had been standing by the tree when it had been struck by lightning.
They were nowhere to be seen.
The rain was falling in torrents and there did not seem to be any chance of its seizing.
What had become of the inspector was Nick's thought as he turned to where he had seen him fall.
He must be taken care of at all hazards.
The inspector lay as he had fallen while the blood oozed from the wound.
he was unconscious.
I must get him to the city at once, said Nick to himself.
As Nick turned to look where the taxi had been left,
he had just time to dodge a murderous blow
that the driver of the taxi was about to deal him.
The fellow had recovered consciousness
and was bent on murdering Nick.
You cover you, said Nick,
as he dealt the fellow a blow on the side of the head
that sent him to the ground.
As a fellow arose, Nick gave him another one
and the rascal went down and out.
Having disposed of the first of the first.
fellow, Nick turned his attention to the inspector. He lifted him in his arms and bore him gently to the taxi.
After cracking the machine, Nick jumped to the chauffeur street and drove rapidly in the direction
of Brooklyn. Stopping at the house of a doctor who signed he had noticed coming over, Nick went in and
told the physician that he had a friend outside who was in need of medical attention and that he would
bring him in at once. When the wounded man was brought into the house, the doctor looked at him and shook
his head gravely. This appears to be a very serious wound, he said. But,
may not be fatal, however.
May I ask you how your friend came by such a wound?
Nick did not tell him how the inspector had been wounded,
nor did he tell him that the patient was a police official.
Do your best by my friend.
I'll be back tomorrow and see how he is getting along, said Nick, as he took his sleep.
The end of Chapter 38.
Chapter 39 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Vox recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 139
The Blind Begger
Five minutes after Nick had driven away from the spot
Where the encounter had taken place
A dozen rough-looking men had come from the woods
And were looking around to see if they could find any trace of the detectives
They were piloted around by the chauffeur of the taxi
Who declared that the two officers had been assaulted
And thrown to the ground by Malloy and himself
You see, said the fellow
as he stopped at the side of the road,
we had a desperate fight for the two cops.
But we were much more than a match for them.
But where are they? asked one of the party.
Right back of where you are standing, the other answered.
The party looked back of the woods,
but were not able to find any trace of the two detectives.
They turned on the driver and were going to call him to account
when they saw that he had been injured
and that he was out of his mind.
The beating that Nick Carter had given him was too much for him,
trained athlete that he was.
Where is Malloy?
One of the men asked.
I don't know, replied the chauffeur.
I suppose that Malloy was a match for any detective on the force,
said one of the fellows when Meloy's insensible body was found.
He's a match for any ordinary man, replied the other.
But you can't expect him to whip a man like Nick Carter.
You don't mean to say that Nick Carter is on the case that has so long baffled the police to you?
Yes, the case has been turned over to him.
And I tell you, boys, that we have got to be very careful, or we will find that we are up against a losing game, said one of the older men.
I think that the best thing that we can do, spoke up the leader of the gang, is to wait for this detective and blow his brains.
I tell you that he's a dangerous man, and the sooner we are rid of him, the safer it will be for us.
You're right, came a voice from the darkness.
Penny the bummed by all the imps in the place below, said the leader.
You're mistaken, Hall. It's not Benny the bum, but Jack Whedon at your service, said the voice.
As he stepped out into the light of a lantern that the leader carried,
Jack Whedon looked like the old tramp that had been on the side of the road when the fight began that afternoon.
His makeup was wonderful, and when he commenced to talk as a tramp had done in the afternoon,
the gang were more surprised than ever as none of them had seen the leader in the disguise before,
and although they had had orders to obey the tramp, they did not know who he was until now.
Hall laughed at how his chief had fooled him, and the others could hardly restrain a chair in the cleverness of the man who ruled them.
What orders have you to give us now? asked the leader.
I want you to find Nick Carter, and when you do, all right, sir, we will do the rest.
But where did he go?
He left in the motor-car with the inspector, and he'll probably go to some doctors.
Part of your fellows stay here and attend to the men who are hurt, and the rest of you go to where Nick Carter has taken the inspector,
which you will probably find as a first doctor on the road as you enter Brooklyn.
All right, sir, we are off.
Jack Whedon watched them as they went off up the road.
A satisfied smile was on his lips.
He knew that if these men ever got Nick Carter in their clutches,
the detective's life was to be the forfeit for the manner in which he had injured their comrades.
The end of Chapter 39.
Chapter 40 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public.
domain. Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 40 A Bold from Heaven.
When Nick Carter left the doctor's house, he was buried in thought.
The events of the day had occurred so quickly that he had hardly had time to figure out in
his mind the best thing to do next. In the first place, what did it mean that Whedon
should turn up in the company of Billy Young the burglar? What was the object in killing
Tom's suite? Was it possible that they had been seen going somewhere that would have betrayed them?
The visit to the morgue and the killing of the driver of the ambulance assured that they knew that he was on the case.
Also it was evident that they feared that when he took up the case that he would be able to discover the guilty ones.
The great detective, as he walked along, pondered over the various aspects of the strange case.
The matters had all been committed by using strange pieces of steel dipped in poison of some kind.
As a detective revolved the case in his mind, three important questions presented themselves.
who had imported the poison?
How had the pieces of steel been driven into the bodies of the murdered men?
What object actuated the murderers?
A visit to the scene of the crime would perhaps throw some light on the matter.
I'll visit the spot tomorrow, thought Nick.
A search of the woods on the daytime might show something that would give me a clue on which to work.
I'll be better prepared when I go there tomorrow, said Nick to himself.
I'll get hold of the beggar if he is anywhere around,
and I'll see if he knows anything about.
the murders. It may be that he is the man that has committed the crimes. I'm sure of one thing,
and that is that he is a fraud, pure and simple. Another thing that I must do is to get old
of the crook Billy Young and see what he knows about the killing of my man yesterday.
If Nick Carter had seen the machine that went by the doctor's house while he was inside,
he would not have been so sure of reaching the spot in the woods where the murders were committed.
The men who had been sent by Jack Whedon were in the machine. Of course, Nick did not know this.
He drove on thinking of the things that he had to do.
The vehicle swayed from side to side as it rattled over the cobblestones.
This did not worry Nick, as his thoughts were too much taken up by other things.
He had reached the park when the car gave a sudden lurch and toppled over on its side.
It was smashed to pieces.
That Nick was not killed seemed to him to be a miracle.
He alighted in a ditch which had been partly filled by the rain.
Almost suffocated, he crawled out of the ditch,
while he to find himself grasped by several brawny hands.
The truth flashed upon him.
The smashing of his car had been deliberately planned.
While he was struggling with his captors, he thought to himself,
this is some more work of Jack Whedon.
He struggled for a few minutes with the semblance of resistance.
He did not want to display too much strength before he had time to reflect.
His captors thought that his fall had taken his strength
and very slightly loosened their hold on him.
This was exactly what Nick had wanted them.
to do. With a sudden wrench, he tore himself free and gave the man nearest to him a smashing blow in the face that sent him to the ground. It was a good beginning. He rained blow after blow on those nearest him until he had cleared a circle. Then, for the first time, did the would-be assassins give vent to their feelings. They raved and cursed as they saw him fell one after another of their comrades. Kill him, yelled the voice. Shoot the detective. Scream another. Stab him to the heart. Hit him on the head with the club.
A shot whisked by Nick's head.
It was too close for comfort.
He suddenly remembered that he had taken a revolver from the body of the man that the inspector had killed that afternoon.
He would use it.
Had his fall into the ditch ruined it?
Nick concluded that he would see.
His assailants were rushing toward him again.
By the light of the lantern, he could see that they were armed.
He must have something to save his life.
Taking aim as well as he could in the uncertain light,
he aimed at the man who was nearest him.
He fired.
The man who received the shot gave a scream and fell to the ground, shot through the heart.
Nick fired another shot.
Another yell gave evidence that this one had also hit the mark.
Nick had forgotten the man that he had sent to the ground with a smash when he was first attacked.
The fellow had revived and was creeping up on Nick,
when suddenly there was a blinding flash and the outlaw dropped to the ground on a charred and shapeless mass.
It was a work of providence.
once more had right triumphed.
The end of chapter 40.
Chapter 41 of the stolen brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 41.
The Strange Farmer
Hall and his comrades were panic-stricken.
They could not seem to realize what had happened.
It was an instant before Nick fully realized the danger that had threatened him.
He had heard the terrific report and had seen the ball of fire as it descended,
but he did not know for a moment that the man had been creeping up behind him
until he saw the stone in his hand.
The men were at the detective again.
Suddenly the noise of horses' hoofbeats were heard.
Hall, the leader of the outlaws, cried to his men.
It's a police! Fly!
The rascal jumped to the hedge and disappeared into the park.
Was it the mounted police?
Nick listened, but the noise had ceased.
He then went to look at the motor car.
It was a shattered wreck.
I guess that was one of the closest shaves that I've had in a long time, said Nick.
A small electric pocket flash lay on the roadside where it had been drawn by one of the men who attacked Nick.
The detective picked it up and proceeded to look over the scene of battle.
The first thing that he saw was a body of the first man that he had shot.
Nick turned him over and flashed light in his face.
It was covered with blood.
Nick wiped it away.
He thought that it might be either Jack Whedon or the burglar Billy Young.
It was neither.
Fred Rowe, exclaimed Nick as he recognized the features of the corpse.
A more unprincipled scoundrel never lived.
A man of good family in excellent position.
He took to bad companionship, and this is his end.
About a dozen feet farther down the road,
he saw the body of the man who had been stricken down by the thunderbolt.
His features had been so badly burned that Nick was unable to recognize who it had been.
While Nick was looking at the man who lay at his feet,
he was seized from behind and dashed to the ground.
All of the breath was knocked out of his body by the fall.
I guess that this is my finish, he bitterly reflected.
I should have been more careful.
I did not think that they would return.
Nick was wrong.
It is not Hall and his gang that had returned.
Sally, drat you!
Why don't you bring me that rope so that I can tie this critter?
The tones in which these words were said
convinced Nick that the people who had caught him
were not members of the whole band
or if they were, they talked
differently from any of the others.
I wonder who they are.
Asked Nick of himself.
Gosh, hang it.
Will you hurry with that rope?
I don't want to sit here all night.
I reckon that you're an old crank.
I've dropped it.
Well, hurry up and find it.
I don't want to sit on this fella.
He's too slippery.
This conversation would have been very amusing to Nick,
were it not for the fact that his unknown
character was sitting on his head
and his face was being pressed down into the mud.
When Nick had broken with his breath, he asked, as best he could,
if his captain did not think that it would be a good idea to let him up?
I reckon that you must take me for a fool, said the man.
I had trouble enough to get you down, to go and let you set up.
But you've got the wrong man, persisted Nick.
I'm too old a bird to be caught by such fine talk.
Didn't I catch you right in the act?
I don't know what you mean, said Nick.
Why?
I caught you right in the...
the same old trick of robbing people, and I don't know but that you are the fellow that has been doing the killing around these parts.
Say, are you ever coming with that rope? yelled the fellow to the woman. Do you suppose that I asked it to get it for fun?
You are slower than a freight train. As he turned to see if the woman had yet secured the rope, he eased up some water on Nick.
The detective had been waiting for this. He drew himself together, and with a tremendous effort,
hunched his knees together and threw the fellow sprawling several paces distant, where he landed in a
pool of water. The woman had come up with a lantern now, and she was a picture of astonishment
when she saw Nick standing up and a companion over in the water. Well, I say, who might you be?
She asked. I might be a good many people, but I'm somebody else, answered Nick, laughingly.
Whoever you are, there is one thing certain, and that is that you are a cool one, she said.
I do feel rather cool after having been pressed out into the mud by your husband there,
said Nick Carter. Husband, indeed, she sniffed.
Do you suppose that I would marry an old fossil like that thing over in the water?
I reckon I could get fine a man that he dares to be.
I've not seen his face, said Nick apologetically.
If he was a handsome young fellow like you, continue the woman, I might not mind.
Nick, for the first time, took a good look at her as she stood in the glare of the lantern.
She was raw-boned with the shoulders of a husky young farmer.
Her hair was as fiery a red as it could possibly be.
Her face was disfigured by a scar that ran down the left cheek,
a brilliant black eyes by the only redeeming feature of the woman's face.
Her voice was a thing that had attracted Nick.
It was discordance itself.
I reckon you must be pretty strong to throw the old man, she continued with a chuckle.
He's forever bragging about how good he can wrestle,
and this will take him down a peg or two.
He's forever blowing about how strong he is,
and how he used to win all the matches at the cornerstone.
I'm for you, if you go at him again.
The end of chapter 41.
Chapter 42 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 42.
Sally and a cousin.
Nick Carter looked at the woman in silence for a few minutes,
and then he asked,
What was the object of your father trying to hold me down on the ground?
I have no money, and he would not get anything of value from the few papers that have in my clothes.
First of all, let me tell you that I ain't my father nor my husband.
He's just an ordinary fourth cousin.
He did not want to rob you at all, but I suppose that he wanted to stop you robbing somebody else.
Oh, he took me for a robber, asked Nick.
Do you think that I'm a robber?
No, I don't think that you're a robber.
I think that you are one of them fellows that goes around looking for robbers, was a woman's startling reply.
What makes you think that? asked Nick.
Well, that was easy.
I knew that as soon as I saw you.
But how did you know that I was an officer?
Why?
When your court flew back, I saw your badge, and that's how I told.
Why did you not tell your cousin, let upon me, if he is an honest man?
I suppose that I ought to have done it.
But he has been so much on the bragging line lately that I thought that I would see if he could really wrestle.
He looked like a husky chap, and I saw a chance to test him.
Responded the woman with a laugh.
Nick's attention was now called to the man that he had thrown over into the pool of water.
The fellow had crawled out and was coming for Nick.
I suppose you think that I'm a downfall.
I was pretty hasty when I saw you, he said.
You were a bit hasty, I sent to the detective.
But I think that you got as good as you gave, and so we will call it even.
Yes, I think, Mr. Officer, that you gave him a good deal, better than he gave you.
And I'm right glad, as it will keep his mouth shut for a while, put in Sally.
women has too much to say in this day so you had better take a reef in your jaw growled the fellow as he scrapped the mud off his clothes nick upon questioning the man found that he lived on a farm a few miles from brooklyn and that he had passed a scene of the murders each day as he went to market with his produce
he had been going to market that evening so that he would get a better price for his things and had hurt the pistol shots when he did he hurried his horses until he was almost to the spot where the fight took place and then he concluded that it would be safer to go ahead and he had hurried his horses until he hurried his horses until he was almost to the spot where the fight took place and then he concluded that it would be safer to go ahead
and foot and find out what was going on.
It was a noise of the horses that had frightened hall in this gang.
You see that when I came up into the road and saw you bending over the body of that fellow there,
I thought that I had captured the man that had committed the murders that have stirred up the country around here.
And I concluded that I would take him into the city and turn him over to the police.
If you live so near the scene of the murders, you must know something about them.
Or at least you have heard some of the folks around talk of them.
So tell me what you know, said Nick.
Yes, I sent to the fellow.
I've heard some talk of the murders
and lots more about the robbers
who are making life miserable for the people around here.
How is it that you're not afraid of them?
Asked Nick.
Because the people around here know that I'm pretty husky myself
and that when I get my money for the stuff that I sell in the city
I put it in the bank.
Then some of the other people who live around here
have not been so fortunate as you?
Asked Nick.
I should say not.
There was farmer Grout
who was robbed of over $300 night before last
They took his cold watch and shine too.
Did Grout report the matter to the police?
Hey? No, he was too scared.
And besides, the people around here are so terrified that they would rather submit to any loss than have the ill-feeling of the desperate ban that is making things so hot around Astoria,
for the people that passed the woods near the automobile repair shop of Jack Whedon.
Well, I suppose that Whedon knew of the robberies then, asked Nick.
I didn't say that he did, did I?
No, you did not say that he did.
"'But don't you think that he did?'
"'I would hardly like to say that.
"'As Weyden has a reputation of being an honest man.
"'I don't think that he's as good as folks think,'
"'but on the woman Sally.
"'Shut up,' said the farmer.
"'You women talk too much,
"'and your tongues often get you and your folk
"'into a lot of trouble that you needn't get into.
"'I don't know much about the man,' he added to Nick.
"'I guess that this fellow is about as care of the man
"'weeden as are the rest,' thought Nick.
"'It seems that you,
You, Miss Sally, ought to afraid of this man that seems to have inspired the community with such dread?
You can just bet that I am not scared of him, and Harry Block knows it as well as any of the rest of them, said Sally.
And pray who is Harry Block? asked Nick.
That's my name, spoke of the farmer.
But I wouldn't pay attention to what she says.
As you ought to know that women folk talks too much.
They're very undiscreet.
My, what a long tale of cat has got all of a sudden, said Sally scornfully.
"'Will you shut your mouths?' growled the farmer.
"'You've talked too gosh darn much, I tell you.'
"'I know a darn sight more about it than you want me to tell.'
"'Won't you please keep quiet?' the man growled.
"'Are you going to Brooklyn?' he asked turning to Nick,
who had been listening attentively to the conversation.
"'Yes, I'm going to Brooklyn.
"'But I would like to hear more about this man
"'that your cousin seems to know so much about.
"'Do you suspect him of robbing that man the other night?
"'He might have had a hand in it
if he did not do it himself, said Nick.
Well, seeing as Sally appears to know all about it,
I would suggest that she'd tell you what she knows.
She's so all-fired smart, said the farmer sullenly.
Aren't you ashamed of yourself?
exclaimed the woman.
Why don't you be honest and tell the detective all about it?
That is a one manly thing to do.
There's no harm in telling you what you know,
as you had nothing to do with it,
and it may help him run down the people that he's looking for.
Did you ever see such a woman in your life?
She'll be saying next that I am the man that did the robbery myself.
Bless me if I would marry a woman like you for a million dollars.
Aha, that's funny.
You forget that you have been asking me to marry you every day for the last ten years.
And that I have always told you that I would sooner marry a tadpole than you, said Sally.
Well, let's go up the road as we are only losing time standing here and listening to the chatter of that fair cousin of mine,
saying which Block took the lantern from Sally's hand and motioning to Nick to follow,
led the way up the road.
What was the reason of the farmer not wanting to talk about Sweden?
Was it because he was afraid of him?
Or was it possible that he too was mixed up with the gang and afraid to talk?
I'll get this man to talk before I'm through with him.
Or my name is not Nick Carter, said Nick to himself as he reached the wagon.
The end of Chapter 42.
Chapter 43 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 43.
The farmer question.
When the farm wagon had reached the park,
Nick commenced to talk about one thing another,
cunningly putting in from time to time questions about the murders and about Sweden.
Is Astoria a healthy place? asked Nick as a starter.
I reckon it is healthy enough for some people, said the farmer.
Not for such men as your friend that was relieved of his pocket.
is it? Asked Nick with a laugh. No, I hardly think that it is, although it is better than getting a bulletin
you, was the answer. Are there many doctors around here? No, there aren't any regular doctors
around here that I know of, excepting the ones at the asylum. And they are so thundering high price
that it is cheaper for a man to die than to go to them. So most of the people around here
either goes without doctoring or else dies. I suppose that you are all healthy and seldom need a doctor.
Most of us are in pretty good shape, and seldom need anything excepting a dose of physique now and then.
That is Crout, the man that was robbed the other night.
He had been sick ever since.
At least he says that he is sick.
Although I think that the losing of his money is the thing that is the matter with him.
Indeed, yes.
And the day after he got touched him for his money,
he went into town and brought himself a medicine chest filled with all sorts of funny-looking things.
There was lots of curious-shaped things in the instrument line.
There was a lot of funny-looking medicines that I have never seen the likes of in any truck store
and a book telling you the effects of poisons.
He did not mean me to see that, but when his back was turned, I took a peep at the book.
What do you suppose that he wants with all this stuff?
He would not be allowed to practice medicine without a license from the state.
Practice nothing.
Why, the old fool cannot write his name?
It was plain to Nick Carter that there was something back of this that would be worth looking in turn.
Farmer Groat was evidently a man that it would be worthwhile watching.
too might be one of the band that had been terrorizing the neighborhood, and then might he not
be the man that had furnished the poison, that had tipped the steel projectives that had been
found in the bodies of the men who were found within a few yards of the home of Jack Whedon?
If he was connected with the gang, he would probably need something with which to patch up the
members of it when they were wounded, and he might be a skillful surgeon who had allied himself
with this man of outlaws and posed as a farmer to throw off suspicion.
The robbery too might have been part of the scheme to put the authority to,
off the scent. If at any time they should find out anything that tended to point the finger of
suspicion at him, it was evident that this man, Whedon, had as carefully a selected gang of
villains as could be found in the United States. We were speaking of Jack Whedon a few moments
ago, said Nick. Tell me, who's his doctor? The farmer looked worried. I don't know anything
about him, as I've told you, was a silent reply. Don't you think that as a neighbor you ought to
know? Suppose you were asked to go for the doctor.
for him some night. What would you do?
I suppose that if I was
asked to go for the doctor, replied the farmer
slowly, I would...
Well, to tell you the truth,
I don't know what I would do.
Sally giggled. It was just
barely audible, but the quick years of
Nick Carter heard it.
I wonder what that is so funny in that.
Mick asked himself.
I suppose that the woman thinks that
block is going to pull the wool over my eyes.
Well, here is where I
will fool them. Nick
concluded that the best thing he could do was to play on the vanity of the woman.
Of course, with all respect to you, Mr. Block.
I suppose that you leave all the thinking that you have to do to your cousin, Miss Sally,
who seems to be very quick in grasping the meaning of the question that I have asked.
Sally simpered and looked as pleased as a vinegar-like features would allow her.
Didn't I tell you that I always was much smarter than you are?
She asked at a cousin.
Then Jack Whedon ever do any work for you or your cousin?
asked Nick of the woman.
Yes, he has done work for me two or three times.
He fixed the wheels of my bicycle.
But each time that he did it,
he kept it so long that I thought
that perhaps he sent it into town to have it done there.
He didn't seem to know exactly what to do with it
when I took it to him.
And he said that he would have to have one of his men fix it.
And as he had several other jobs on hand,
was a reply.
When automobiles have come to a shop to be repaired,
who generally did the work?
Asked Nick.
One of his men usually did.
while he either looked on or else went to the shop and pretended to be fixing the forge.
It was evident that the automobile shop was a blind.
The end of Chapter 43.
Chapter 44 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganandha.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 44, rescued from the mob.
The Great Farm wagon was going along toward Brooklyn slowly.
the lights in the distance were growing brighter as the party approached the city.
Suddenly Nick turned to the farmer and said,
I didn't suppose for a moment that you would tell me anything that I wanted to know about Jack Whedon or any of his gang,
but I thought it best to ask you before I decided on my course of action.
I'll give another chance to tell me the truth.
And I can assure you that it will be to your interest to tell me all that you know.
I'll be fair with you, and I intend that you shall be honest with me.
The one reply that he received was a muttered oath from Block.
go on commanded Nick
what the devil are you driving at
finally asked the farmer
I want to know what you know about this man
Veden and his gang and I want the
truth
anybody would think that you thought that I was in the league with
the band of oatlaws
cried the farmer in alarm
how do you know that there is a band of outlaws here
asked Nick suddenly
the farmer was confused
he turned to the woman and said
Sally you're a she devil
this is all your fault
and you've got to take the consequence
I'll never forgive you for what you have done, drought you.
You must not blame the lady, said Nick quietly.
She has done the thing that will be the best for you,
and she has shown very good judgment.
I'm going to have the truth from you before we parted the Brooklyn Police Headquarters.
You don't mean to say that you're going to arrest me, do you?
That'll depend largely upon yourself, replied Nick.
I like your gal to talk to me like that,
and especially as you are riding in my rig,
I have half a mind to throw you out.
I would not do that if I were you, Nick calmly replied.
Then, you get off my wagon right away.
I don't think that I shall.
Block leaped to his feet and aimed a heavy blow with his whip at Nick.
Don't do that, stop it, I say.
Came in terrified tones from Sally.
Swish!
The whip cut through the air where Nick a moment before had been.
He had stepped to one side as he saw the farmer prepared to strike.
The farmer, overbalanced by his savage mule, had fallen out after the whip.
"'My heavens! He's killed!' screamed Sally.
"'No, he is not.
"'It will take a harder fault than that to kill your worthy cousin,' said Nick reassuringly.
Nick leaped lightly to the ground, and, gathering the farmer in his arms, he tossed him back into the wagon.
It was as pretty a piece of athletic work as Nick had ever done.
Sally sat with a mouth open.
When she recovered from a surprise, she said,
"'No wonder my cousin could not hold you down when he was on top of you on the road?'
As soon as a farmer was able to get his breath, he sat up and looked at Nick as if that
worthy were a creature from another planet.
Finally, he managed to say,
You are a wonder.
Tell me how you did it, and I'll give you ten dollars.
You will tell me all that I want to know before we discuss the other matter, said Nick.
You can't make me talk unless I want to, growl block.
Now, but I can lock you up and keep you there until you will.
Oh, no, you can't.
Consider yourself my prisoner then, Nick said.
sternly. What I'm I charged with? demanded the farmer. Of being an accomplice of Jack Weed and
this gang. Of what are they guilty? Murder. You'd better tell the man all that you know about
the gang, said Sally. I told you that you had better keep away from that crowd, but you would
persist in mixing up with him. Now you see what is the result. He will be dragged off to jail,
and I won't have anybody to fuss with. There'll be one grain of comfort in that, to say
the least, remarked the farmer grimly. Block thought a moment.
And then, at the urgent solicitation of Sally, told Nick all that he knew about Veden and the beggar.
The wagon had gotten to the ferry when it was compelled to stop.
A great crowd of people blocked the street.
They were shouting and struggling.
What was the trouble?
Nick jumped off the wagon and dashed into the crowd.
He was followed by the farmer.
As he reached the center of the crowd, he saw the body of a woman lying on the ground.
She was dying from a pistol wound that had been inflicted by a jealous husband.
The husband stood near, looking at her unconcernedly.
as she lay there, the blood flowing from her wounds.
Lynch the brute!
Came from a voice in the crowd.
Burn him, cried another.
Shoot the demon.
Somebody get a rope.
I've got one here.
Came from a voice in the crowd.
Let me get through.
Nick Carter started back as if he had been struck by lightning.
The voice was sort of Jack Whedon.
Nick looked at the man a minute and then sprang to him like a tiger.
Jack Whedon, you're my prisoner, he cried.
What do you mean, sir?
gasped the man. My name is not Sweden. It is right. The mob, thinking that it was a ruse to keep
them from getting their prey, turned angrily on Nick. He's an accomplice, they shouted.
Lynch him till. With frenzied cries, they turned upon Nick, who still hung on to his prisoner.
The farmer fought by Nick's side, and did splendid work in holding back the crowd.
There were too many for the two men, strong as they were, and one of the leaders of the mob
had thrown a rope over Nick's head when a petrol wagon filled with policemen dashed around,
the corner. Let the police deal with them, said one or two of the cooler heads in the crowd.
Some of the mob angered at the loss of a chance to lynch somebody, tried to reach the detective,
but were driven back. One of the officers recognized Nick, and swinging his club, shouted,
I know this man, he's all right, fall back. The officer also recognized right as being a
crocodile dealer in Maple Street. Nick could not understand it. The features, the voice, the actions,
and the bill were those of Jack Whedon.
Nick Carter had never made a mistake
in the identification of a man.
Could it be possible that he was wrong now?
The end of chapter 44.
Chapter 45 of The Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 45.
The man of mystery.
With an apology to the man
whom he could have sworn was Jack
Whedon, Nick once more fought his way through the excited crowd.
He went back to see what had become of Harry Block, the farmer.
The wagon and its two occupants were gone.
Nick was inclined to be angry, but after a moment laughed and said,
well, the fellow saved my life, and besides that, I can pick him up at almost any time.
All round him was a scene of conflict.
Suddenly, a blood-curdling yell was heard.
The mob angry at being robbed of its prey had turned on the policemen that were in the
center and a terrific struggle was on. The police were using the clubs to clear a passage
that they might take the prisoner they had to the petrol wagon that was waiting for them
at the corner. The prisoner that they had was a man that had shot his wife. The poor wretch was
bleeding from a dozen different wounds that he had received at the hands of the mob. His hat had
been torn from his head and his clothes were in shreds. The man was crouching in terror by the
side of the brave officers that were endeavoring to protect him from the savage onslaughts
of the crowd that was intent on taking his life.
Nick saw that something must be done at once,
or the policeman, as well as their prisoner,
would be crushed to death under the heels of the infuriated crowd.
Down with the police, yelled a woman from a point of vantage on the sidewalk.
They're protecting a mudra.
A volley of paving stones followed this advice.
More than one brave policeman fell senseless to the crowd.
Nick was enraged beyond measure
when he saw one great bully ruffian drawer revolved.
from his pocket and pointed at the head of the officer who was nearest to him.
Before Nick had a chance to dash the weapon from his hand, he fired, and the officer fell to the ground a corpse.
The sight seemed to give Nick the strength of a dozen men.
He threw men right and left until he reached the place where the man stood, the smoking revolver in his hand.
Nick grabbed him by the throat.
The man grew black in face and wanly gasped a breath.
Seeing that two other men were coming to the rescue of the man that he held, Nick
Rick raised him clear of the ground and hurled him at the oncoming men.
The men dodged and the fellow struck headfirst against a pile of stones that lay on the side of the street.
His skull was fractured.
This served to all the crowd, but only for a moment.
They returned to the attack with greater fierceness than before.
It seemed as if all the officers and Nick would be ground to death under the heels of the maddening throng.
Heavens!
Can not something be done to stop this hellish work?
cried Nick.
"'Since you are so powerful, why don't you do it yourself?' said a mocking voice at his elbow.
It was a voice of Jack Whedon.
Nick turned and sobbed before him the face of Wright.
The man he had taken for Jack Whedon but a short time before.
"'I'm not mistaken,' thought Nick.
"'That man is Jack Whedon, and I shall take him dead and alive.'
"'You dog?' he cried.
"'You're Jack Whedon, and you are my prisoner.'
He made his step forward and clustered the man's throat,
as he did so he was struck on the head with a blackjack in the hands of a man that stood at the side of the automobile repairer.
The man who struck the blow was Billy Young, the companion of Jack Whedon.
Nick sank to the ground insensible.
The end of Chapter 45
Chapter 46 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Library Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 46
Nick Carter
Wounded
When Nick came to his
census he was lying on a court in the Brooklyn
Police Headquarters
Around him lay the bodies of several men that had been killed
in the riot
Several others who had been slightly wounded
Were sitting around in chairs talking about the riot
At the hospitals were a dozen other officers
Who had been severely injured
A citizen had seen the writing
And had sent word to police headquarters
And the timely arrival of the reserves
from several station houses had finally checked the outlawry of the crowd.
Nick remembered having tried to catch a right, all weeden by the throat, and all after
that was a blank. The doctor, after examining Nick, told him that the only injury that he
had sustained was a small scalp wound and a gentle shaking up, but advised that Nick take a rest
for a day or two. Nick laughed, and said that he had business on hand that would prevent us
taking a rest of more than an hour. Nick lay on the court for a few minutes, thinking of the
course that he should pursue. If by any mischance the man that he had tried to arrest was
really right, what was his object in attacking the detective, and why had he jeered at Nick as he
had? Was there such a man as right? Nick thought it over and came to the startling conclusion
that the man right, Whedon, and the old beggar were one and the same. It was really a triple
identity. Nick closed his eyes to think. The voices of the policemen around him were heard. One
of them was asking the other about the wife of the man who had been the cause of the trouble.
How long did she live?
He asked.
Only a minute or so.
How about small?
Did we finally get him to the station house?
Asked an officer whose head was worn with bandages.
Oh, he was brought to the station house more dead than alive.
He was scared to death almost.
He's a fine man to be a member of a bad man gang.
Why, he actually was crying from fright when they got him in the wagon.
then that is a fellow that we have been looking for for some time, is it?
Yes, that is a chap.
We have wanted him for his connection with the gang that has been terrorizing Astoria for several months.
Nick pricked up his years.
Here was something that interested him.
It appears, continued the officer that had been talking,
that there is a man named Whedon, who is at the head of the gang,
but nobody has been able to trace him in anything that savors of rascality.
And as he has such a reputation among his neighbours were being honest,
the people in charge are afraid to make any move against him,
although I think that they would be only too glad to get something on him,
as he has been very insolent to the men who have questioned him about the murders that have been committed near his repair shop.
Don't talk too loud, cautioned the sergeant that Manhattan man is in here.
They say that he's a crackjack too.
I wonder what case he's working on now.
Oh, you mean the man that was talking with the inspector today?
Yes, that's he one.
I've heard some of the men say that it is Nick Carter, the famous detective, but I don't think that it is he, because I saw him once while I was working on a case, and this man does not look anything like him at all. Nick smiled to himself. The man had once worked with him on a case, and as keen sighted as he was, he did not penetrate the disguise that Nick wore at the time. The door of the room opened, and the inspector entered. As he came to the room, Nick staggered to his feet and looked confusedly around. He appeared as if he had just awakened.
I see that you are on your feet again, said the inspector as he entered the room.
Oh, yes, I'm all right, barring a slight headache, answered Nick.
I guess I must have had a narrow call at the time, and if it had not been for my usual good luck,
I would not be willing to go to work again.
I don't believe that anybody will ever succeed in giving you your quietess, said the inspector laughingly.
The inspector asked Nick to step into his private office that they might discuss the case.
The inspector listened to Nick's story of the affair attentively, and when he had concluded,
He said, I've heard of the crockery man Wright, but I've never seen him.
I shall have to look him up.
The peculiar part of the thing that puzzles me is a remarkable resemblance of the men,
if indeed right is not Jack Whedon in disguise.
But then, all of my officers who saw the men that you try to get
are ready to swear that the man is right, and that his reputation is of the best.
According to the people in the neighbourhood, he has been in business but a short time,
but during that period he has succeeded in making a number of friends in the locality where he does business.
"'That may all be true,' responded Nick.
"'But I have seen many curious things in my long experience,
"'and I am not surprised at anything that happens now.
"'I remember a case where the man that I wanted passed among his neighbours
"'were a woman for several years,
"'and it was not until he met with an accident that his identity was discovered.
"'But is it not possible that two men could be in the same locality at the same time?'
"'asked the inspector.
"'Yes, but it is hardly likely that both would be breast-like,
"'even to the style of collar and necktie.'
Well, we shall find out in a very short time whether it was weed in a right that you saw.
I shall send one of my men and have the crockery man brought before us, said the inspector.
That would be an excellent plan.
And if you find that it is a man we want, then we will have him right here, declared Nick.
The inspector touched an electric bell on his desk, an instant afterward an officer entered.
I wanted to tell Edwards to come here at once, said the inspector.
Yes, sir.
A minute or so afterward, a man entered the room.
He was one of the shrewdest men that Inspector had on his staff.
Edwards, do you know this man right?
Yes, sir, I do.
I was in a store yesterday, buying something from my house.
Do you know the automobile repairer, Jack Bearden, who has a place over an Astoria?
I rode out that way on a case several weeks ago, and one of the tires on my wheel burst,
and had to stop in his place to have it fixed.
I wanted to go to Wright's house and get him and bring him here to me.
This is very important, and I wanted to say nothing to him.
any of the men about where you're going. I understand, sir, and I'll be back as soon as possible.
After the man had left the room, the inspector turned to Nick and said, well, what do you think
of it now, Mr. Carter? I hardly know what to say about it. And to tell you the truth, I have been
so worried over having to leave the inspector from the New York office that I have not really
had time to think out much of anything, especially as I've had such an exciting time since I left
him at the doctors. Nick then related all that had occurred when he and Inspector Ward had
visited the repair shop of Jack Whedon. While waiting for the return of the man, Edwards,
who had been sent to bring Wright the Crocker to Crocker to Crocker,
Widen and the gang of ruffians that had been terrorizing Astoria. What plan do you propose to
follow in the work on this case? asked Nick. I shall have one or two of my men. Keep an eye on
the place and such are the work that you may desire. And,
that will not interfere with you in any way replied the inspector this is indeed mystery forty-seven and it has been a mystery too long and i intend to clear it up i feel that my reputation is at stake and besides i have a private score to settle you know that they killed one of my men tom sweet and i'm confident that they were at the bottom of the attack that was made on your officers to-day an hour had elapsed since edwards had taken his departure nick looked at his watch and suggested that perhaps the man had not found
white at home and had been looking him up.
As he said this, the door opened, and Edwards, accompanied by two men, enter the room.
The second man was a doctor that Nick had left Inspector Ward Beth.
I'm delighted to see you, Mr. Jack Whedon, the inspector said,
as soon as he got a good look at the man standing by Edwards' side,
shut that door and allowed no one to leave the room, unless I tell you.
And as he said so, he advanced toward the man that he had called Jack Whedon.
The end of Chapter 46.
Chapter 47 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Wox recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganan.
The Stolen Brain, Chapter 47, almost exposed.
The scene was a dramatic one.
On the face of the supposed automobile repairer, there was depicted amazement mingled with terror.
His face was ashen, his hands trembled, and he tried to speak, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.
the doctor's face was a study.
He was surprised and bribled at.
On the face of Nick Carter, there was a quiet smile
as he watched the man who had been brought into the station.
The doctor was a first to recover his presence of mind.
I didn't want to know what this outrage means.
He cried haughtily.
Is it meant as an insult?
If so, I will see that the commissioner of police attends to the matter.
I can assure you that it is not meant as an insult, sir?
It's a most serious matter,
and I would advise you to keep your temper.
If there has been a mistake, no one will be the wiser.
If there is not, then your friend will be treated as a law provides, said the inspector.
Turning from the doctor, he faced the man that a moment before he had addressed as Jack Whedon, and said,
I'm sure that I'm more than pleased to see you, Mr. Weeden.
We have been looking for you all day, and this is an unexpected plusher, I can assure you.
I beg your pardon, Mr. Inspector.
But the gentleman that you are talking to is not Mr. Weedon as you have addressed him, said the doctor.
If that's not his name, what is it?
My friend's name is right, replied the physician.
Why, how singular, sarcastically said the chief.
I'm amazed.
I'm sure that he is Sweden.
Well, I guess that this is one of the times that you are mistaken.
This gentleman is an old friend of mine.
He's in the crockery business.
And I've seen a man Edwards here in his store within the last day or two.
Who do you think this man is Edwards?
As the inspector.
I really do not know who he is.
I'm sure. I never met the man until I went to his store tonight when he sent me after him.
He may be weed in, or he may be right. I only know that when I went into the store after him
tonight, he seemed to act as if he owned the place, and was at the safe putting away some books.
He did not seem anxious to come with me, but his friend over there, nodding in the direction
of the doctor, told him that the best thing he could do would be to come without any delay, as he would
then avoid any notoriety. He finally agreed to come if I would let him. He would let him. He would let him.
him empty a bottle of chemicals that he had been experimenting with. He said that it was a
patent that he was working on, and that he did not want to let anyone find out what it
was, as if they did, it would mean the loss of a great fortune to him. This seemed to be a
reasonable request, and so I let him pour the stuff out into a sink that was in the back of
the store. That's all that you know about him, is it? Yes, sir. The man, who was a subject
of the discussion broke out into a hearty laugh.
There was a false ring to it, and Nick Carter's keen year noted.
Then you deny that you are Jack Whedon, continued the inspector.
I certainly deny that I'm Jack Whedon, or anyone else that you may call me, except Mr. Wright.
The latter is my name, and I would have you understand that I'm not in the habit of masquerading as someone else.
I trust that you are true with me, and we shall be allowed to take a departure.
This indignity has been great enough without prolonging it.
I'm here to do my duty, no matter how unpleasant it may be.
And until I am satisfied that what you are telling me is the truth,
I'll be compelled to force you to stay.
I suppose then that the best thing that I can do is to answer your questions,
although I want to tell you that you will hear from this.
If you're not Jack Beeren, then who are you?
My friend has told you who I am.
And that should be sufficient.
The man was evidently playing for time.
He wanted to think before he answered any question as to his identity.
I want you to answer the questions that I put to you, said the inspector Stanley.
I suppose that I must answer then.
I am Mr. Wright.
What's your business?
I'm in the crockery business at the place where your man found me tonight.
How long have you been in that location?
I've been there for a few months.
How long have you been in the crockery business altogether?
About five years.
Where were you in business before you came to the city?
I was in business in Washington, D.C.
where was your store located there?
945 Ames Street, northwest.
You are certain of that, are you?
I am.
Kindly step over to my desk and look at the business directory that you will find in the lower left-hand corner
and see if that address is correct, said the inspector to Nick.
The face of right grew ashen.
Nick saw the change and concluded that the man was trapped.
Nick opened the directory and went carefully over the list of rights.
Here it is, he said.
Wright, Crocray, 941 M Street, northwest.
A sigh of relief escaped both the doctor and Wright, as Nick said this.
But you said 945, corrected Nick sharply.
Did I?
Well, then, really, I made a slight mistake, said the man insolently.
His bravado had returned.
I visited him there, spoke up the doctor.
I was ill there, and I do not like to think of the place, said Wright.
Your appearance was that of a sick man when the inspector said,
suggested the directory, said Nick Riley.
Wright gave Nick
a look of hatred, which was met
with a scornful smile on the face of the detective.
How did you come to make
that mistake? asked the inspector.
I just made a slip of the tongue,
answered the man. I understand
that you are at the place where the writing occurred
today, and that you are the man
that had a rope and wanted to lynch the man
who had shot his wife? Is that not true?
I was not near the place where the trouble was,
I can assure you. I only heard of the trouble
in a most casual way.
You're perfectly sure of that statement,
persisted Inspector as he looked at Nick.
I've already answered that question,
said right angrily.
What would you say if I were to bring a dozen people here
that would swear that they saw you there?
It would not make any difference to me
if you brought a thousand.
I could bring plenty or more that will testify
that I did not leave my store
until I came here with your man.
Did you ever see this man before?
Did you see him at the right,
or did you speak to him at that time?
the inspector pointing to Nick.
I did not say him.
For, as I told you, I was not anywhere near where the right took place.
I never saw the man before, and I certainly am not anxious to make his acquaintance.
Nick and the inspector retired to one corner of the room and talked over the situation.
Legally, they could not hold the man, and Nick decided that he would let the two go
and have one of the department men follow them.
Nick was certain that the man was no other than Jack Whedon
and that the man was playing a desperate game, but he concluded.
concluded that he had better allow him to depart, thinking that he had fooled them, than to hold him and have him discharged for lack of evidence.
You don't seem to take very much interest in your patients, said Nick to the doctor, as he and his friend were taking their departure.
I have had no patience in the last three days, said the doctor.
This is the limit, said Nick to himself.
Here were two men that he had seen earlier in the day, and now both of them denied their identity.
The end of Chapter 47.
Chapter 48 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
This Libby-Wox recording is in the public domain
Read by Yoganandah.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 48
Capture of Meloy
It was late before Nick parted from the inspector of the Brooklyn headquarters.
They had gone over the question of Mystery 47 Tharauli
Shortly before Nick left the inspector, a man was brought into the room.
It was Malloy.
He was put in a cell next to that, occupied.
by the wife Madra, and an officer was placed in the cell next to him so that he could hear if Malloy tried to say anything to the other prisoner.
After Malloy had been locked in the cell, Nick said to the inspector,
I want to interview that wife Madra.
He knows that things are in pretty bad shape for him, and I may be able to get him to tell us something that will shed some light on these murders.
What makes you think that you will be able to get anything out of him? asked the inspector.
In the first place, he's locked up on a charge that cannot be bailed,
And in the second, he will try and get on the good side of the keepers,
so that he will be able to get more liberty around the jail.
And the last reason is that I shall tell him how some of his companions have turned against him,
and that the leader of the gang, Jack Whedon, wanted to take his life.
What, under the sun, could have been the object of the man
in wanting to have one of his own gang killed?
He may have learned too much of the workings of those high in the council of the gang,
and they saw an excellent chance to get rid of him without putting their own lives in jeopardy.
They are a desperate and cunning lot.
Nick took leave of the inspector and started down toward the ferry.
He had almost reached his destination when he noticed that two men were passing on the other side of the street.
The men were right and the doctor.
They turned and saw Nick, and the next minute they had disappeared into an alleyway and were lost to sight.
As Nick had not eaten since early in the morning,
he concluded that the best thing he could do would be to go over to Newark
and get a big porterhouse steak at the Cosmopolitan Home.
hotel. As Nick passed into the fairy house, he was followed by five rough-looking men. Three of them
carried pails, and the other two had pickaxes. I think I'll go out and smoke a cigar. I have
not had one today, and a smoke will do me good, Nick said to himself. Nick had been smoking for
several minutes when he heard the trade of stealthy footsteps behind him. As he turned to look to see
who was coming, he was seized by several hands that held him as in a vice. The end of chapter
48. Chapter 49 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter. This Liberty Walk's recording is in the
public domain. Read by Yoganand. The Stolen Brain. Chapter 49. A fight on the ferry. Nick was lifted
high in the air. Throw the confounded detective into the river, hissed a voice. Over with him. Someone
may come, said another. At this minute, two figures sprang out of the darkness and struck two of the men
that were holding Nick in the air.
The men's truck fell to the deck like logs,
and before the other two could defend themselves,
they had likewise been sent to the deck.
I saved your bacon that time, Nick Carter,
although you don't deserve it, said a familiar voice in his ear.
Nick turned and looked into the face of a man
whom he had had under arrest that afternoon.
It was Harry Block, the farmer,
and with him was his cousin, Sally.
Where did you come from? asked Nick.
Oh, we just dropped in,
and seeing an old friend wasn't quite,
trouble, we thought that we would give him a helping hand, laughed the farmer.
I can assure you that I appreciate your help, said Nick earnestly.
Mr. Carter, ever since you threw my cousin, he has done nothing but talk about your
style of rustling, spoke up Sally.
How did you know my name? asked Nick, when the woman had finished.
Oh, we can't tell you that just now, but perhaps we will sometime.
You men are standing there talking like two old women at a sewing circle.
Why don't you watch the men that try to throw you off the boat?
both Nick and the farmer turned like a flash to see what had become of the assailants.
They had disappeared.
Let's search the boat for them, and if we find them,
you can be assured that we will help you to take them to the station house,
as we believe in law and order.
Don't we, Sally? said the farmer.
If you do, why did you give me the slip this afternoon?
asked Nick.
You threatened to have us locked up,
and so when I thought that the police had quieted the mob,
I went back to the wagon, and Sally and I draw off,
so that you would not take us to the lockup.
"'I'm very glad that you have concluded to tell Nick Carter the truth,' said the woman in a tone that was familiar to Nick.
"'I think that I know you now,' said Nick, as he made a grab for Sally's head.
He pulled a wig from what he supposed was the head of a woman,
wanted to find that the person was Patsy, Nick Carter's assistant, whom Nick thought was enjoying a vacation.
"'Well, I'll be jiggered,' said Nick.
"'Can't you take a rest as I told you to do?
Or must you work all the time?
It looks as if you are a born hunter of criminals.
The farmer was none other than chick.
Since you two are determined to work, I suppose that I'll have to put you on the case,
and I'll give you some instructions after you have gone home and had some sleep,
said Nick, as he bade them good night.
The end of Chapter 49.
Chapter 50 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain, read by Yoga Anand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 50
Tricked
After Nick had said goodnight to Chick and Patsy
He set out to trace the men that had assaulted him on the ferry boat
About two blocks from the entrance to the ferry
Nick saw a lumber wagon which was covered with a sheet of top pollen
moving slowly up the street
It took him but a few seconds to reach it
And as he did he grasped one of the horses by the bridle
And ordered the driver to stop his team
The driver made a cut at Nick with his
whip and yelled that he would brain him if he did not let go of the horse.
I think that you will stop until I have seen what your wagon contains, said the detective.
Who are you? That you should hold up my wagon, demanded the driver angrily.
I am an officer, replied Nick.
If you're an officer, then it is all right, replied the driver.
I thought that you are one of the robbers that has been making things hot for the people around Astoria.
I did not want to take any chances.
What have you got in your wagon?
Oh, I've got just a load of boats that I'm going to take up to Harlem.
I think that I had better look in the wagon, and see that valuable load that you're so careful, not loose.
I'll be blot if you do, replied the man, making another slashed at Nick with his whip.
Nick's revolver was out in an instant, and he told the fellow that, if he did not climb down off the seat,
that he would fill him full of lead.
The driver got down and stood to one side while Nick made the examination of the load.
It was as the driver had said, and Nick was about to let the lead the lead.
man go when his trained eye caught sight of a piece of blue jean that had caught on a nail
evidently as the owner of the garment had been getting out of the wagon."
"'Hello?'
"'What's this?'
He said to himself.
"'It looks to me as if the wagon had been used to conceal the men when they had left me on the ferry boat.'
I guess that it would be a good plan to take this fellow to headquarters, where I can ask
him a few questions.
"'What's your name?' asked Nick of the man.
"'My name is John McDowell,' he answered.
Now that I get a better look at your face, I think that you are Pat Dean, alias Pete Tech, responded Nick.
No, it ain't.
Well, we can tell very easily when we reach police headquarters.
You don't mean to say that you're going to arrest me? asked a driver.
That's about the size of it, replied Nick.
Well, I won't go.
You have no warrant for my arrest, and I defy you to take me to any station house.
I'm going to take you to headquarters, alive if possible.
But I'm going to take you there, said Nick quietly.
The fellow saw that he had to deal with a man that would not stand any nonsense, and he got up on the box and drove as he was told.
As the wagon turned into Central Street, the man suddenly threw his arm around and tried to knock Nick off of the wagon.
Nick had been expecting something of the sort, and before the fellow knew it, he had the handcuffs on him.
A very neat trick, my good man, said Nick.
But you see that I was prepared for something of that kind, and I kept my eye on you.
A moment later
and they were at the desk of the acting inspector.
The latter looked up and said,
Why? Here's my old friend Pete Deck.
I tell you that my name is John McDowell
and my name I'm deck.
We don't often make mistakes here.
And if I remember correctly,
your number under the old system was 4-2-3.
The end of chapter 50.
Chapter 51 of the Stolen Brain
by Nicholas Carter.
This Libby-Vox recording is a
the public domain. Read by Yoganan.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 51
Young's capture and escape.
The man had kept pretty cool up to this time, but as soon as the acting inspector
called his number, he commenced to rave and swear and tried to dash his handcuffs in Nick's
face.
One of the officers on duty grabbed him and he quieted down.
I guess that the jig is up, as you seem to have me marked.
So go ahead with what you're going to do, he snorled.
The inspector is going to give you a chance to save yourself from Sing Sing if you will be Squire.
But if you're not, you're going up to the river for a long time, said Nick.
The fellow belliger and spirit once more came to the surface and he screamed,
You have no right to send me there for simply driving a wagon.
You hit the men that attacked the officer here, said the inspector, pointing to Nick.
What of it if I did? You can't send me up for that?
No.
But I can not have you sent up on this old indict that perhaps you'll,
had forgotten, said Nick, with a blind smile. You'll have to tell me what the charges before I
will tell you anything. The indictment charges you with burglary and attempted murder, and if you
will remember, you never stood trial for it, the detective said. I had forgotten all about it,
and would not have been around with that gang from Astoria if I hadn't. Then you are,
or have been a seat with that gang, have you? asked Nick. I've done some work for them,
but I've kept out of such things as would lead me to the penitentiary.
From whom did you get your orders?
Was it from Jack Whedon?
No, I never saw Weedon.
I got my orders through a man that perhaps you never saw.
His name is Hall.
It seems to me that I've heard that name before, commented Nick.
He's a leader of a gang that has been making the trouble over an Astoria, I believe.
Well, he has been given credit for having done some things over there that perhaps are not exactly on the level.
but is not the man that you're after, I'm sure.
Who is a man that you think that we are after?
As the inspector.
Oh, I think that you're after the fellow that may be one man
and then again maybe another man.
You know that you can't always tell who a man is
by looking at him once?
He may be a businessman or a common scoundrel.
I've known of people that look like one man
and the next instant they were identified as somebody else.
What are you driving at? asked Nick.
Oh, you need not try to.
try to fool me. I know what you want me to say. Well, what do we want you to say? You want to know if the
blind beggar that hangs around the woods near the shop that is run by Jack Whedon is really a beggar or somebody else?
Supposing that we do, who is a man? He might be just a blind beggar. And then he might be
just as Pete Tech was going to finish his sentence, the door was opened and two policemen
dragging between them a struggling prisoner entered the room. Billy Young, the very man that we
want. This is good fortune indeed, cried the inspector.
Great, heavens, young, how did you come to be brought here? exclaimed Pete, Dick. I thought
you were over in Astoria. Shut up, you fool, growled young. That was a good giveaway,
laughed Nick. If you say another word, I will brain you when I get out of here,
screamed Young as he turned on deck. All right, Billy, I'll not make any more slips. I'll
keep my trap shut. Now, Inspector, that you have got me here, I would like you to
Tell me what you have me here for?
I have not done anything.
And it is a shame to deprive a man of his liberty
when he's being on the level, said Young.
The reason that you are brought here
is that you are charged with the murder of Tom Sweet,
a detective and the employer of Nick Carter.
I didn't happen to kill him on the square inspector.
I did not do the work.
Then you admit that he was killed, do you?
I ask the inspector.
I don't admit anything, Stamwood Young.
He saw that he had made a fatal slip
and he concluded that he would not talk anymore.
It is no use for you to try and question me any further.
You might just as well take me to one of your rooms
and put me there until you want me,
as I don't intend to give up anything.
As the officers who had been holding young by the arm
opened the door to lead him away,
he gave a wrench and threw them to one side.
Like a flash, he was down the steps and away.
Officers and detectives that had been standing near the door
started to chase him.
When he turned the corner, the officers were but a few yards behind him.
As they turned the corner, they were surprised to see that the street was empty.
Not a trace of the man could be found.
They returned to the building and an alarm was sent out.
The end of Chapter 51.
Chapter 52 of The Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain.
Chapter 52.
Nick's Life Saved
In vain did they try to get it.
get Dick to talk. Once that he had seen his pal young, he had somewhat recovered his courage,
and he positively refused to answer any questions that were put to him. After they had tried to
get him to tell about the gang for an hour, Nick gave it up in disgust. Inspector, I feel hungry,
and think that I'll get a bite to eat before I turn in for the night, said Nick, as he left
headquarters. There's no doubt in my mind that Tech knows all about that gang. But when he saw
young, he was either frightened stiff, or his feeling was that of the average
tough who wants to appear a game in the eyes of his fellows, muttered Nick, as he walked up the street
to a restaurant near his home. The restaurant was one that served a good dinner at a moderate
figure, and there one met the different celebrities of the day. Lawyers, brokers,
newspapers, newspaper men, actors and the light-finger gentry all rubbed elbows in the strictly
bohemian resort. As Nick passed through the bar room, his attention was attracted to a table
at which were seated four men. The features of one of the men were familiar to Nick, but the
hair did not appear to be in keeping with the rest of the man's makeup.
I'll watch those men when I go out and see who they are.
I don't like their looks, said Nick to himself as he took his seat.
Nick had hardly begun his supper when a young man strolled in and took a seat at Nick's table.
He was a young newspaper man on one of the great dailies and was a warm friend of Nick's.
The young fellow had been all over the world and whenever Nick and he got together,
they sat down on exchange reminiscences.
They lingered over their coffee and cigars, and when the young news,
paperman said good night to Nick. It was long past midnight. Nick took his departure shortly after.
The four men, who had been drinking wine all the time that Nick and his friend had been talking,
got up and left the place as soon as the detective went out the door. Glancing up and down the street,
they saw Nick going toward his home. They followed, skulking in and out of doorways. The young
journalist, who had forgotten his cane, was returning to the restaurant when he saw the suspicious
actions of the men. He dodged back into a doorway until he saw that they were really following
Nick. As Nick reached the corner, he saw two patrolmen that he knew. He spoke to them for a minute
and then turned the corner to go to the house where he lived. The reporter who was acquainted with the
officers ran over and hastily explained the situation to them. The at once went around the
squire where they could head off the men when they got near Nick's house. Nick Carter,
walking along the street busily engaged in thinking over the events of the day, did not for an instant
suspect that he was being followed. Nick stopped to light a cigar when the four rascals jumped
upon him. Nick barely had time to turn and avoid a blow that had been aimed at him by the man
that he had noticed in the cafe. The man with an oath started to strike again when the sharp
crack of a pistol rang out in the night air. The man fell to the sidewalk with a scream of agony.
The policeman rushed up and attacked the remaining three men with their nightsticks. Two of the
men took to the heels and made the escape. The other man was captured and made a prisoner by the
officers while the reporter turned in a call for the ambulance that the injured man might be
remote to the hospital. Nick bent over the wounded man. He noticed that the hair which he wore was
false. Pulling it off, he saw that the man that had tried to kill him was the very man that he
had been looking for. It was pilly young. The other fellow that had been captured was also
wanted. He was Hall, the leader of the gang of outlaws that had attacked Nick in front of the
repair shop kept by Jack Whedon. When the ambulance arrived, the surgeon in charge saw the man who had been
shot was mortally wounded and could not live for five minutes.
Nick knelt down by the side of the man who had now recovered consciousness.
Young looked up and smiled.
I guess that you hold the winning hand, Nick Carter, he said.
I tried my best to do you, and would have succeeded if that fool reporter had not been so good with his gunplay.
You have won a good fight, and I give you credit.
Young, you're dying.
Why don't you tell me what you know about Jack Weyren and that gang?
It may help to atone for crimes that you have committed in this world, said,
Nick, quietly.
I never yet have squealed, and I don't intend to begin now, was the answer of the dying
man.
I would tell you, if I ever told anybody, as you are the gamest and squirest man in the business,
but I can't die a squealer.
I, I, with a gasp, his head rolled to one side, and the man who had helped to kill
Tom Sweet was dead.
The policeman took the prisoner to the station house, where he was held on the charge of
attempted murder.
The body of Billy Young was wrong.
removed to the mug. The end of Chapter 52. Chapter 53 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Libri-Vox recording is in the public domain, read by Yoganand. The Stolen Brain, Chapter
53. An attack on Nick's home. When the detective and the reporter were left alone,
Nick said to the latter, I almost regret that you fire that shot old man. Why? asked the other.
because Billy Young Alive
might have proved of great service to me in clearing up this case.
Of course, I know you did it for the best.
Maybe I can help you on this case, Nick.
You might, but I cannot accept your help just at the present time.
Oh, I see, said the reporter.
You do not want any of the papers to get to work on the case
until you are ready for the grand finale.
Correct you are, laughingly replied Nick.
I hope that you'll give me the first show at it
so that I can get a scoop.
You may rest assured, my friend.
that you will be the first one who will get the news when I have solved the triple identity or
mystery 47. You will, of course, make a story out of what happened tonight? Well, you just read
tomorrow morning's paper, and you'll see a cracking good account of what has transpired tonight.
Good night. Good night, responded Nick. As Nick went up the stairs of his house, he felt
that he had earned a good night's rest. He went to bed and slept for about three hours in a restless
sort of way. Suddenly, he awoke with a feeling of uneasiness and apprehension. He glanced at the
clock on his dresser. It was nearly four o'clock, and in a short time would be daylight. He turned
over and tried to sleep again, but his restlessness only increased. This certainly
is strange, muttered Nick. I never felt this way before. It must be indigestion. I'll get
up and take a little bit of brandy. That may help me. On a table near the bed was a small pocket
flask filled with brandy. He swallowed a small drink and got back into bed. It was impossible
for him to sleep, however, as a feeling of uneasiness which had attacked him before returned
even more strongly than ever. Nick jumped out of bed and going to the window, looked out into
the backyard. Suddenly his gaze penetrated the shadow of an old cherry tree. He detected a moment
at the shadow. As his eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, he saw the figures of three men.
They were gazing intently at his window. At first, he thought,
they were burglars. A closer examination disclosed the fact that two of the men were his late
assailants who, when Billy Young had been shot, had made the escape. The third man bore a strong
resemblance to right, the Brooklyn Crockerty dealer, as also did he to Jack Whedon, the Astoria
automobile repairer. Besides the revolvers that the men carried, each was armed with a long,
murderous-looking knife. It is very evident, murmured Nick, that I am too hot on the trail of the
Astoria horror, and that gang intends to murder me if they possibly can. I'll give them a warm
reception if they try to get into my room. Nick stole silently to the bed. He lifted one of the
pillows. They lay two automatic revolvers, each one fully loaded. Then he crept back to the window
and in the shadow of the curtain watched the men. It was evidently their intention to enter
his room and murder room while he slept. Nick could hear what the men said. The following
is a part of what he heard.
And so Billy is John 4, said the man who resembled
Eden. Yes, was a reply
with one of his companions. He was shot
by a cursed newspaper man.
Well, I'll see to it that he
don't write any more interesting stories.
What do you mean? I'll kill him,
he's the man. He killed
Billy Young, and I'll kill him.
Blood for blood is my motto.
Well, what about that fellow up there?
Said the second tug, pointing to
Nick's window. We will
settle him right away. He has been the
course of Billy Young's death, Hall and Meloy's arrest, and a few other things that I shall tell
you of later. Well then, we had better do it now, because it'll be daylight pretty soon.
The lightest man can climb up the trellis and finish him in the room, while the others wait
down here, ready to give him a hand if necessary. I would like to go up and fix him, said the
most lender of Viedin's companions. I owe him one, and want to pay it as soon as I can.
What has he done to you? asked the other man. Nothing, sullenly, but he was a me.
means of sending my brother up for twenty years. The poor boy went to that prison, and the
treatment that he received was so harsh that he died in less than three years. It broke my mother's
heart, and it wasn't long before she followed. You can understand now why I want to be the one
to end the life of that cursed detective Nick Carter. The man started toward the trellis.
I'm off, he said, clambering up the trellis work and taking hold of the wines. And you'll get
as warm a reception as you ever had in your life, muttered Nick. He intended to let the
would-be assassin enter his room and then trash him within an inch of his life. Nick went to his
closet and picked up a heavy oaken walking stick. The man was coming up the trellis-work slowly. Suddenly
there was a crushing sound, a yell and a volley of oats. The trellis-work and wines had given way
underneath the man's weight, and he went crashing down into the yard. An old gentleman who lived
next door had seen the men in the yard, and when the man fell, he thrust an old musket out of his
window and fired point-blank at the man. The gun had evidently not been fired since a civil war.
It knocked the old gentleman senseless by the force of its recoil and alarmed the whole
neighborhood. The men at once scaled the fence and got away. The old gentleman suffered from a lame
shoulder for weeks. The end of Chapter 53. Chapter 54 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain. Read by
Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain
Chapter 54
The Third Degree
At 9 o'clock next morning
Nick Carter was at Centre Street Police Headquarters.
After the men had been routed the night before
Nick had returned to his bed
and had several hours of good sleep.
He took a cold plunge and a brisk rubbed down
with a Turkish towel.
When he appeared at the office of the inspector,
that official was more than astonished to see him.
He had hardly supposed that Nick would be up
and ready for work so early
after the hard work he had done the day before.
Have you read the papers this morning?
The inspector asked a moment later.
No, I've not responded to the detective.
What's in them?
It's an account which makes you a great hero.
Oh, I guess it's a young fellow story of a little scrimatur
I had near my house last night.
I hope he said nothing about the case I have been working on.
No, he has not printed a word about it.
Well, then, when I clear their story of mystery,
I shall take good care that he has the story first.
By the way, asked the inspector,
Do you know that a man named Hall was brought here this morning?
No, I did not, but I am very glad to hear it.
He was one of the men who tried to kill me last night.
I must see both Hall and Malloy, continued Nick.
Do you think that Malloy will talk?
The chances are that he will, now that Billy Young is dead.
He feared him more than he did a dozen policemen.
I think then that I will go down to the cells and see these men.
Very well.
I'll go around with you, said the inspector.
A couple of minutes later, and they were in Malloy's cell.
The prisoner had had a good breakfast and was inclined to be funny.
They cut him short and came down to business.
Malloy, said Nick.
You appear to be in a much better frame of mind than you were last night.
I am, the man replied.
I've had a good night's sleep and an excellent breakfast,
and what more does a man want?
Liberty, laconically replied Nick.
Yes, liberty is a good thing.
But if a fellow hasn't got money and grub, liberty don't amount too much.
You can have both liberty and money if you answer certain questions truthfully.
What questions are they?
The same as you asked me last night?
Yes.
Suppose I refuse to answer them?
Then you'll be deprived of your liberty and brought upon the old indictment.
And get 20 years, eh?
More likely you'll get 30 or 35.
Nick answered coldly.
What's your additional time for?
he asked in a surprise tone.
We have some of the counts to try you on.
Well, I think you are a pretty square cop,
and if you give me your word, I feel sure that you will keep it.
Now, what do you want me to do?
I want you to tell the truth.
Well, where am I to begin?
Where are you left off last night?
Let me tell you first that Billy Young is dead, added the detective.
Well, what of it?
That's no news to me.
I've heard it before.
Is that, sir?
"'From whom did you hear it?'
"'One of the doorman told me,
"'as he thought that it was a brilliant piece of news.
"'I didn't take much talk in it
"'until I heard him tell another man,
"'and then I felt sure that it was not a plant on your part
"'to get me to talk.
"'I'll show that I'm in earnest
"'when I tell you that he is dead.
"'I'll do what will convince you, I think.
"'I'll send for Hall, the leader of your gang,
"'and have him tell you about how he was killed.
"'An officer was sent to fetch Hall from his cell.
"'He was handcuffed and looked rather
fall on as he stood in front of Melloy's cell.
How did you get in here? asked the latter.
I suppose that it was in the same way that you got in.
Is it true that Young is dead?
Yes. He was shot by a newspaper man, who was a friend of Nick Carter's,
and he clubbed me with a stick until I'm black and blue all over.
Well, I'm glad that he was killed, as he was not a man in the gang that did not fear him.
Hall, do you know that you and I are in a bad hole?
I'm good for 30 years at least
And I think that they'll send you up for a good long term
I'm going to talk to the inspector and Mr. Carter
And tell him what I know
Then you're going to squeal?
Yes
Because they will let upon me
And besides, we didn't distort care for any of us
All he wants to do is to pose as a man of respectability
One minute
And the next he wants to go around looking like somebody else
I tell you that I am tired of the whole business
I have not had anything to do with the Astoria Horror
but I'm going to tell them all I know about the crimes.
I'll talk to you about the terms before you begin,
so that there will be no misunderstanding about the matter, said the inspector.
Well, Inspector, said Hall,
what we want is to walk out of this place free men.
You don't ask much to you, said the inspector, amazed with the cheek of the fellow.
But I shall keep my word.
Now, tell us about the murders.
The members of the gang were entirely ignorant of the way that they were committed.
That is, with one exception,
that was spilly.
Young. He knew everything that was either going on or that was to come off.
What you say may be true, said the inspector. But Young is dead, and so all power of corroborating
what you say is gone. Yes, and if it were not for the fact that he is dead, you would not
be listening to what you are being told now. There isn't a man and the gang, and there are some
very brave fellows among them. That would have the nerve to tell you anything about the
workings of the gang of Billy Young was alive. You're not afraid of Jack Whedon then?
Now, I would meet him anywhere or any place.
Will what you are going to tell me implicate Jack Whedon?
It will.
He is really the mysterious assassin.
Who is a blind beggar who hangs around the road near where the murders were committed?
That is Jack Whedon, the man that keeps the automobile repair shop.
The two people are one and the same.
I was right, said Nick.
Now, let me ask you another question.
Who is this man right?
the man that keeps a crockery store.
The two criminals looked at Nick for a moment and then laughed.
I guess that you know who is Mr. Carter?
You tried to arrest him that day the rights were going on in the street.
He laughed about his narrow escape that day.
Well, what was his reason that day to try and have one of his own gang lynched?
He was sore on the fellow,
as he thought that he was trying to spy on his business,
and he saw a good chance to finish the fellow without its being traced to him.
So he concluded that he would get him out of the way in that manner.
He first sent a note to the woman, asking her to meet him,
and addressed the letter to her in endearing terms.
And then, before she had time to receive it,
he sent word to the husband that his wife was receiving letters from different men.
The husband, of course, found the letter,
and accused his wife of being untrue to him,
and he, in his jealous rage shorter,
which was exactly what we didn't want him to do.
I tell you, of all the devilish men on earth, he is a very worst.
The end of chapter 54.
Chapter 55 of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter.
This Liberty Walk's recording is in the public domain.
Read by Yoganand.
The Stolen Brain. Chapter 55.
The mystery's solved.
How did you come to discover that the man Veehani was Benny the bum?
I followed the tramp one night and saw him steal into the shop.
He went into the rear part of the shop and took off the false beer that he wore,
also the wig of matted hair that hung over his shoulders.
He kept saying to himself,
I am the king of murderous.
I am the king.
I love to see their ghastly faces as they look up at me.
Then he went into the corner and set down the long stire
for a walking stick that he carried
and unscrewed the feral and outdropped a small tube of compressed air.
He went to a closet and took out another one
and inserted it into the end of his staff.
Later in the day, Nick and several of the men from head-combed,
quarters went out to the place where Jack Whedon and his gang held forth.
They sat down to the shop and Nick opened the door to enter.
When swish, something whisked past his side and embedded itself in the woodwork of the door.
Whipping orders revolved where he dashed into the center of the room.
There stood Jack Whedon, Elias Wright, the crockery man, and on the floor lay the clothes of
Benny the bum.
Here was a secret of the triple identity.
The case that had so long been known to the police as mystery for
was at last salt.
With his eyes starting from their sockets,
the man now looked more like a wild beast than a human being,
turned to Nick and said,
I've tried my best to beat you.
I find that I've lost,
but you will never take me alive,
as I have poisoned myself with the ring that I have on my finger.
I'll tell you in the minute that I have to live
all about the different murders that I've committed.
I do this because I like a brave man,
and you've beaten a whole gang,
and I respect you for it.
Thank you, said Nick quietly.
Go on.
I've always hated the human race.
And when I was a young boy, I killed a man in defense of a dog that I owned.
The blood from the man's wound got on my hands,
and I experienced a feeling of joy that would only return
when I saw a corpse at my feet.
Had lots of money.
So I surrounded myself with as trusty a lot of villains
as you might find in a month's journey
and proceeded to kill people for the satisfaction that it gave me.
sometimes I would let the men rob the bodies
after I had struck them down with the air gun which I concealed in the staff
so that it would look as if the motive of the murder was robbery
how did you send the men to death with the air gun
was it with the small steel projectiles that were found in the bodies of the men that you killed
yes said Whedon who was now almost ready to gasp his last
yes it was a small needles that I shot into them
the same kind that I shot at you a minute ago
They were all tipped with the poison that I got while I was in India a few years ago.
I...
A gasp, a stiffening of the body.
And the man who had the triple identity was dead.
The mystery of the Astoria Horus was no longer a secret.
Nick Carter had solved the hardest case that had ever come to the attention of the police.
Mystery 47.
The end of Chapter 55.
The End of the Stolen Brain by Nicholas Carter
