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<h2 id="c2">CHAPTER II. THE WAY OF THE ROBIN.</h2> Nick’s passage to the Zetler Bank to see the real Mr. Alpheus Cary was in the nature of a procession. He had been impressed with the idea that the caller who had announced himself as Mr. Alpheus Cary, had, by some means, come to know that the real Mr. Cary was in the neighborhood, and had fled because of that. His fleeing seemed to Nick to suggest that in some way this person was either the Brown Robin or some one connected with that person. The audacity of the effort to impersonate Cary in an interview with Nick further suggested that the person had much confidence in his own skill, and was rather conceited about it. He thought it probable that he would be put under observation in his next attempt to leave the house. So he directed Chick to go out and post himself so that he could shadow Nick and see whether he was followed. And, having respect for the skill of this Brown Robin, he sent Patsy out charged with the duty of following Chick, and Ida later to follow Patsy. Thus it was that when, an hour later, he went out into the street, his passage to the Zetler Bank was in the nature of a procession. Nick’s passage, however, was not direct, for he received 15 a signal from Chick that the latter thought a person was on the track of his chief. Consequently he took a devious route, turning into many strange places, doubling on his track and doing a number of strange things. All this time he paid not the slightest attention as to whether or not another person was doing these strange things, for he was relying upon Chick to determine whether any one was on his track. “Gee!” said Patsy, when, in these doubling turns, he came upon Ida, “what is this game we’re getting this morning?” However, Chick had seen a young man about twenty-five or six, who had made his appearance only as Nick had shown on the street, and whose route was the same as that of the chief. When Nick had taken to his devious ways on hearing a peculiar huckster’s cry behind him, which he knew to be from Chick, this young man had taken to the same devious ways. When Nick started straight for the bank, this young man had followed, and Chick saw him walk to the very door of the Zetler Bank to watch Nick enter. Summoning Patsy by signal, he sent him on the trail of this young man, while he awaited the appearance of Nick from the bank. The wait was a long one. When Nick presented his name, Mr. Cary came forward 16 in such excitement that Nick thought he would betray himself to every one within hearing. “I am glad to see you, Mr. Carter,” he said. “My business is most important, yet I have been warned——” “I know,” said Nick, calmly, “the Brown Robin. You have been told not to dare to talk to me.” “Why,” exclaimed Mr. Cary, “how do you know that?” “I guessed it,” said Nick, with a smile. “But take me somewhere where we can talk aloud and unheard.” Mr. Cary led the way into an inner room, closing the door after him. “Now,” said Nick, “there are certain things I know of this case, but I want you to tell me everything, concealing nothing, not even when it tells against yourself. I shall regard it as a confidential communication. Make neither excuses, nor apologies, but tell the plain truth.” “But I have been warned not to talk to you at all.” “By whom?” asked Nick. “By some one who signs the letter ‘The Brown Robin.’” “Let me see that letter,” demanded Nick. “Well, I don’t know that I ought.” “Now, Mr. Cary,” said Nick, sternly, “you were blackmailed last night; indeed, it was more nearly like robbery, for the money was taken from your hands while you were hesitating whether you would pay it over or not.” “You know that? How?” asked Mr. Cary. “Never mind how I know,” replied Nick, sternly. “It 17 is my business to know a great many things. But I want to say this: I mean to investigate this matter to the bottom. If you help me by giving me all the information in your possession, so much the better, but whether you do or not I shall find all out. Now choose which you will do.” “Well, I had intended to retain you, but this letter——” “Let me see it,” demanded Nick, in a decided tone. Mr. Cary yielded, and, taking the letter from his breast pocket, handed it to Nick. At a glance the famous detective saw that it was the same handwriting, on the same kind of paper, as the two letters he had received in the morning. It read: <blockquote> “Dear Papa Cary: I want to warn you against a very bad man. His name is Nick Carter. You will only get yourself into trouble if you don’t take my warning. You are in a good deal of trouble now, for you stand in danger of exposure. Fie! Such a naughty Papa Cary! But you must not talk to Nick Carter. You must not talk to him of our pleasant experiences last night. And, Papa Cary, you must come again, and bring some more of the stuff that makes the mare go. I shall tell you when and where. And you must, or there will be pretty photographs sent to Mamma Cary and the little Carys, and to the bank officials, and so there will if you talk to Nick Carter. “The Brown Robin.” </blockquote> Nick folded up the letter and placed it in his pocket, saying: “This letter will be safer with you than with me. Now tell me how you met the woman.” <div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div> “How do you know——” “I would rather you would answer my question,” interrupted Nick, sternly, “and please waste no time with questions. You met a woman last night. Where? How? When?” “Well, it was in the Rideau restaurant—that is a——” “I know—in Fourth Avenue. How came you to be there?” “Some business took me on the East Side yesterday afternoon, on which I was delayed beyond my own dinner hour. I had heard of this place and thought I would like to visit it. So I went there to dine. It was crowded, few seats being vacant. “As I passed down the rows of tables I came to one at which was seated a young woman of attractive appearance, dressed like a lady, in brown, on whose hat was a robin. “The seat opposite her was vacant, and, bowing, I asked if I could occupy it. She consented by saying that she could not prevent me, as it was free to any one to take. “Seating myself, it was not long before I was in conversation with her.” “I see,” said Nick. “Did she know who you were?” “Why, no.” “Then how did she come to know?” “That is where I was a fool. I told her.” “On her inquiry?” <div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div> “No, confound it. A bottle of wine and a pretty woman let loose my tongue, and I babbled like an infant.” Nick had difficulty in keeping a straight face over this frank confession and the disgusted face that accompanied it. “Of course you didn’t know her?” asked Nick. “No; she told me she was but recently from Chicago; that she was married; that her husband had been detained at the last moment, but would soon follow her.” “Well, what then?” “It ended in my paying for her supper, and we arose from the table together, leaving the restaurant together. “In the street I asked her direction, and proposed to accompany her as far as her door.” “It would seem as if, then, you took the lead in this thing.” “That is true in a way, yet she encouraged every step.” “Of course. Go on.” “She took me into Seventeenth street, and toward the east, to a respectable-looking house, which she said was one in which she was staying, and asked, indeed coaxed, me to enter. “Well, like a fool, I consented. She took me into the front parlor, and, asking me to be seated, went off, saying that she would return in a moment.” “She did, having changed her street dress for a flowing wrapper. Seating herself, she began a series of questions about myself that I, fool that I was, answered. <div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div> “Suddenly, and without intimation of her purpose, she arose, and, coming to me, threw her arms about my neck, seating herself on my lap. “I was so astonished at this for a moment I was helpless, and in that moment there was a flash of light that blinded me. “The woman laughed gayly, and, jumping up, ran into the other room. A moment later she returned, saying: “‘Come, Papa Cary. I don’t give my pleasant company for nothing. You’ve enjoyed my society for two or three hours. You must pay for it. Come! Shell out!’ “‘What is this?’ I cried, ‘blackmail?’ “‘Some unpleasant people call it that, I believe,’ she said. ‘But whatever it is, you must submit.’ “‘Not by any means,’ I said. ‘You have attacked the wrong person.’ “Again she laughed, and, springing up, ran into the next room, to return in a moment, bringing with her a photograph plate. “‘You may look at that,’ she said, holding it up before me. Over the rim she pointed a small revolver. “I looked to see that a photograph of myself, with her on my lap, her arms about my neck, had been taken. “I fairly staggered back in alarm, and with a merry, mocking laugh, she hurried with the plate into the other room. When she came back, she said: “‘I’m a business woman, Papa Cary. A short horse is soon curried. Out with your money, or, as soon as these 21 photos are printed they will be sent to decorate your home and your office.’ “In my first fright over this threat I took some money from my pocket, but the thought came that payment wouldn’t end it, and that I ought to bargain with her in a way that would secure me. “While I hesitated, thinking what to do, by a quick movement she snatched the money from my hand, crying, with a laugh: ‘Thank you.’ “I protested—demanded its return. But she said: “‘Oh, no! You have given me this, and it will not be the last that you will give me, either. This is only the beginning. And I will pay you for it by always keeping those photographs.’ “All this time she was laughing, but I could see in her right hand her revolver. I suddenly jumped forward to seize her revolver arm, when she sprang back and in an instant everything was dark. The lights went out. “Then I was pushed forward and out of the room by more than one, through a hall and into the street. “In my anger I threatened that I would put you, Mr. Carter, on her track, and when I was in the street I rushed about, trying to find a policeman. “By and by, however, my common sense came uppermost, and I saw that by appealing to a policeman I should only make public what I should, in my own interests, keep quiet. “So, determining to see you as soon as I could, I went home. <div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div> “This morning, on reaching the bank, I found the letter which you now have in your possession.” “How much money did she take?” “A little less than a hundred dollars—I cannot tell exactly; between ninety and a hundred.” “Did you see any one else then?” “No.” “You could go again to that house?” “No doubt of it.” “Have you told me everything that occurred?” “Everything, reserved nothing. Now, I want those photographs, Mr. Carter. I want you to get them. I’ll pay for them; but I won’t be blackmailed.” Nick was silent a moment or two, thinking. Then he said: “On your recital it seems to be merely a vulgar panel game. But I think there is more back of it than that. However, I will take the case. I will think it over. Do nothing, however, until you see me again. I shall probably be back again in an hour or two, possibly with my plan of action worked out.” Nick left the banking house, and, going into the street met Chick and Ida. “Was I followed?” “Yes,” replied Chick. “Followed to these doors by a young fellow of twenty-five, stylishly dressed. He was like a woman more than a man; that is, his face was so fine and handsome.” “What became of him?” <div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div> “He went off after seeing you, with a curious smile on his face. Patsy is on his trail.” “Then that is all right,” said Nick. “Come with me. I think we have got a case well worth looking on. We will go somewhere where we can talk it over.” The three then went to a neighboring hotel. <div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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