<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</SPAN></span></p>
<h2>CHAPTER XVIII. <br/> <small>GORDON TACKLES NICK’S SAFE.</small></h2>
<p>Green-eye Gordon stood looking at the safe that was
built into the wall of Nick’s study, and, as he stared
at it, his eyes were very greedy in expression.</p>
<p>For one thing, he felt certain that the famous detective
kept money there—very likely a large sum—for,
in Nick’s profession, it is often essential to lay one’s
hands on plenty of cash at very short notice. Expensive
journeys have to be undertaken on little warning,
often at hours when the banks are closed, for
instance, and there are many other ways in which
ready money comes in handy. It remained to be
seen, of course, whether the detective’s absence had
made any difference in this respect.</p>
<p>This, however, was but a very small item in Gordon’s
expectations.</p>
<p>As we have seen, he was after very much bigger
game, in the shape of the secret records of Nick’s
most important cases, records which he hoped would
be the means of netting him a very much larger sum
than that represented by the missing relief fund.</p>
<p>The rascal’s mouth fairly watered now as he thought
of the possibilities. The possession of the papers he
desired would mean a chance of blackmail, such as the
world had never known. Until now, these papers had<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</SPAN></span>
been perfectly safe in Nick Carter’s possession, but
should they tail into Gordon’s hands, they would suddenly
acquire a destructive power far more terrible
than that of dynamite.</p>
<p>What a prospect! Aside from the enormous advantage
which he expected to reap from it, Green
Eye could conceive of no more effective retaliation for
Nick’s part in sending him to prison.</p>
<p>“A fool would only think of killing Carter, or at
most, of giving him a taste of physical torture,”
thought the criminal. “But I can understand his point
of view, and I know that the loss of such papers—and
the use I shall make of them—will be infinitely worse
than death itself in his eyes.”</p>
<p>Gordon started as he heard the front door open,
and moved across the room. He felt sure that it was
Mrs. Peters returning from her afternoon constitutional,
and he wished to give her an order, but he
paused, as he remembered the police dog. It would
be better to have Prince out of the way before he sent
for the housekeeper.</p>
<p>He waited ten minutes, therefore, before ringing the
bell, and presently Mrs. Peters arrived, somewhat out
of breath.</p>
<p>“If any one calls, say that I’m away,” the masquerader
said sharply. “On no account am I to be
disturbed by any one—by any one, mind you. If
Joseph is about, tell him so, too.”</p>
<p>“Very well, sir,” Mrs. Peters answered. “Is that
all?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Despite Green Eye’s eagerness to get at the safe,
he remembered Prince’s alarming behavior, and narrowly
watched the housekeeper’s face. He felt sure
she could not deceive him. If she had the slightest suspicion
that all was not as it should be, her face and
manner would be sure to reveal the fact.</p>
<p>“No, she hasn’t tumbled to me,” he assured himself,
as Mrs. Peters left the room. “It was not to be
supposed that she would, but she must have thought
the beast’s actions very peculiar. Thank Heaven, all
of Carter’s assistants are away. I’ll have to keep
the butler at a distance, too, as much as possible. I
don’t believe he’s capable of seeing through the deception,
but he’s a man, and he’s been with Carter for a
good while. His eyes may be sharper than I think.”</p>
<p>He turned the key in the lock hurriedly, took off his
coat, and began to roll up his sleeves.</p>
<p>“Now, where, does he keep the outfit?” he muttered,
his pale, keen eyes darting about the room.</p>
<p>With quick steps he crossed to the cabinet and tried
that, but, obviously, he did not find there what he
sought, for he turned away from it with a snarl of
impatience.</p>
<p>The desk was the next thing he examined, but it was
not until he had picked the lock of one of the hitherto
unopened drawers that he found what he sought—a
small black bag.</p>
<p>When he had opened the latter, his lips curled into
an ugly grin.</p>
<p>“What a burglar he would have made,” he muttered,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</SPAN></span>
as he emptied the contents of the bag carefully
on the floor in front of the safe.</p>
<p>There were bits of various sizes, ordinary drills and
wheel drills, jimmies, glass cutters, skeleton keys, acids—in
fact, everything that goes to make up the outfit
of the most up-to-date burglar.</p>
<p>Green-eye Gordon turned them over caressingly, but
it was not for long that he was idle. He knelt before
the safe, his eyes roving over it at close range. Soon
he smiled with satisfaction.</p>
<p>It was scarcely as modern a safe as he would have
expected Nick Carter to possess, but that was probably
because the last thing in the world the famous detective
expected was a burglary in his own house.</p>
<p>Among other accomplishments, most of which had
brought him into conflict with the law, Ernest Gordon
numbered safe-cracking, and, as he knelt before the
massive steel door, with its shining nickel fittings, he
had no doubt that he would be able to master this one
in a comparatively short time.</p>
<p>After a brief examination of the lock, to make sure
that he could not open the combination by ear, the
masquerader picked up the powerful wheel drill, fitted
a bit to it, and, pressing the other end against his stomach,
set to work.</p>
<p>At first the bit seemed to make little impression upon
the specially hardened metal, but presently a little hole
appeared, and grew deeper and deeper as Gordon kept
the wheel in motion.</p>
<p>For the time being, the criminal forgot the relief
fund that he hoped to appropriate, forgot even the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</SPAN></span>
great, unique haul he counted on obtaining from that
very safe, and was lost in the joy of being at his old
trade again, and handling the old, familiar tools with
undiminished skill.</p>
<p>Gh-r-rh!</p>
<p>Gordon paused to squirt oil into the deepening hole,
as the note of the revolving bit changed and grew
harsher. It was working smoothly again after a moment,
and the particles of metal were rapidly accumulating.</p>
<p>Thus the work went on. One hole was sunk to the
required depth, then another, and finally, after various
deft operations, the inner secrets of the lock were disclosed,
and the thick door swung back on noiseless
hinges.</p>
<p>A little chuckle of satisfaction sounded as the door
began to move, but, by the time it was wide open, a
snarl of surprise and rage burst from the criminal’s
lips.</p>
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