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<h2 id="c9">CHAPTER IX. THE TRAP.</h2> Patsy arrived early the next morning to report to Nick that on the night previous the Brown Robin, still in male attire, had followed Mr. Mountain to his home, after that gentleman had left the theatre with his family. She had been around the front of the house for some little time, and then, as if satisfied that Mr. Mountain was housed for the night, had left, going directly to the corner of Thirty-fourth Street and Sixth Avenue, where she met two men, evidently awaiting her coming. Only a word or two was exchanged between them, and they then set off at a quick pace, going straight to the Thirtieth Street house, where the Brown Robin had unlocked the doors and let the two men in. She did not enter the house herself, but now hurried to Lexington Avenue, where she took the car, getting off at Twenty-third Street, and going to the Seventeenth Street house, which she entered some time after midnight. She was there but a short time, when she came out clad in woman’s clothes, and went straight to the Lexington Avenue house, evidently her day’s work done. “Well,” said Nick, “it was a hard day’s work, and she filled in all her time. “She was arranging her programme for to-morrow. 82 We have arranged our programme, too. Those two men that she let into the Thirtieth Street house are there to help her in the strike on Mr. Mountain. “I doubt if there will be any others on hand. You need not watch it this morning. My plans have been slightly changed since my talk with Mr. Mountain last night. “But I want you to put yourself in a place outside where you can follow me this morning when I go out: I suppose the Brown Robin will try to spring her trap on me this morning.” Patsy had been gone but a few moments when a messenger boy arrived with a letter for Nick. It was signed by Mrs. Ansel, and said that the place appointed for her in which to meet the Brown Robin was in Seventeenth Street at eleven o’clock, and it asked if Mr. Carter would meet the writer at a well-known department store in Sixth Avenue at 10 A. M., naming the entrance at which Mrs. Ansel would be waiting. Nick carefully examined the letter and noted several things. The stationery was not the same as that which had been used for the former letters; the handwriting was not the same, and the letter was framed so skillfully that it was made to look like the letter of a woman asking an assignation with a man. Nick called Edith and asked her to read the letter. As Edith was doing so he took some papers from his pocket, and from these selected a blank sheet and an envelope. “Compare this blank paper and the paper on which this note is written,” said Nick. <div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div> “It is the same,” said Edith. “Even the most cunning make their slips,” said Nick. “I found this blank paper on a table in the parlor of the Brown Robin in Lexington Avenue, as I did also a sheet of the other paper. Keep them, and the letter as well. “I am off to meet this very cunning person and see what her little game is. I confess I can’t quite see through it.” He went away, and promptly at ten appeared at the entrance of the department store named. The Brown Robin was waiting, and, as he approached, Nick did not fail to observe a flash of triumph in the eyes of that person. She arose to meet him, and welcomed him cordially. “I was very much afraid that you would fail me,” she said. “Oh, no,” he said, carelessly. “I am quite anxious to see this Brown Robin.” “Why, indeed!” “She must be an attractive person. An old gentleman who ought to know better was caught by her, and rushed off to me to get him out of his trouble. But before I could get to work, he backed out of the matter, and, I think, because she has entangled him in her charms.” The one beside him looked up quickly at Nick, but she could not read his face. “They say,” said she, “that there is no fool like an old fool. I suppose you could not be caught that way.” “A man is very foolish to boast of his ability to resist 84 the charms of a pretty woman,” said Nick, gravely. “I have seen too many strong men caught to be boastful myself.” “Perhaps it is the story of her charms that makes you so willing to go with me?” “Perhaps,” replied Nick, “but I think it is more out of curiosity to see the woman who has baffled the police forces of so many large cities. It might be useful, you know, to me some time. There’s no knowing how soon a case in which she is operating may be given me.” To this the pretended Mrs. Ansel made no reply. After a moment Nick said: “Ought we not to go?” “As it draws near to the time, I am a little frightened,” she said. Nevertheless she made preparations to start. They went out of the store, walking down Sixth Avenue to Eighteenth Street, and then through that street to Fifth Avenue. On the corner of that street the pretended Mrs. Ansel suddenly gave a little scream, clung tightly to Nick for a moment, and then leaped into a doorway, hiding herself. Nick did not follow her, but stood still, watching her. The woman peered out cautiously; finally she came with a greatly frightened air to him, gasping out: “My husband! He just crossed the street.” “What then?” asked Nick. “Oh, if he had seen you with me there would have been such a row. He is so jealous—so suspicious!” <div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div> “Come along and point him out to me.” He fairly pulled her to the corner, but, reaching it, the pretended Mrs. Ansel could not see her husband. “That frightens me,” she said. “He may have seen me. He may be hiding to watch me. Oh, come away!” She hurried across the street, Nick following her. From that time on she kept up her nervous, frightened manner, until the door of the Seventeenth Street house was reached. “What an admirable actress she is!” thought Nick. “She is wasting great talents in a dangerous game when she might win fame on the stage.” At this house, looking up at the number, she said: “This is the place. Shall we go in?” “That is what we came for, isn’t it?” asked Nick. Without another word, the pretended Mrs. Ansel mounted the steps and rang the bell. Nick followed her up leisurely. The door was opened promptly by a large, stalwart woman dressed as a servant. To this person the pretended Mrs. Ansel said: “Mrs. Ansel and Mr. Nicholas Carter, to see the person named on this.” She handed a small slip of paper to the servant. The servant closed the door and ushered them into the parlor, going out into another part of the house. She was back again in a few moments to say that the lady of the house was engaged for the present, but would see them shortly. <div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div> Nick said to himself: “All this is well done, but what is the game?” In the meantime the pretended Mrs. Ansel showed every evidence of the natural nervousness that a woman placed in the position she pretended to be in might show. Nick had seated himself at a little distance from her, but shortly she beckoned him to a seat beside her on the sofa. “I don’t think I can stand this suspense,” she said. “It is all I can do to keep from fainting.” And no sooner had she said this than she reeled over, falling completely into Nick’s arms. At that very moment, a man whose face was blazing with anger, rushed into the room, crying: “So, I have tracked you at last. I have you with your paramour, in fact. You wretch!” To all appearances the woman had fainted dead away and did not hear the angry words. Nick lifted her up and laid her on the sofa where she lay as he put her, and stood up. “Who are you?” asked Nick. “Who am I?” repeated the other. “The deceived husband.” “Is your name Ansel?” “Yes. I am the husband of that wretched woman.” “Well, is the fact that a woman faints evidence against her?” <div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div> “Don’t trifle with me, sir. I have followed you here. I knew she had an appointment with some one this morning. I watched and have found her in her guilt.” “In the house of the blackmailer known as the Brown Robin?” sneered Nick. At this moment the pretended Mrs. Ansel opened her eyes, started up, and cried out: “My husband! I am ruined!” Again she toppled off into a faint. “I suppose this is a well-worked game?” said Nick. “Well, play it to the end. How much do you want? Make it as easy as you can. I can’t afford much, but I can’t afford a scandal about my name.” As he said this, Nick carefully watched the Brown Robin, and was certain he saw first a look of surprise and then of triumph on what was supposed to be an unconscious face. “Money,” cried the man, “I want no money. Would money restore my wretched home, my happiness, the mother of my children?” Nick could hardly restrain a smile, for the man was clearly over-acting. But Nick kept up the pretense, for he wanted to see where the game was to lead to. “No; but you shall sign a confession. You shall give me the proof. You shall give me the means of tearing asunder these bonds that have now become hateful to me. “Here, sign this!” He drew a paper from his pocket, and, spreading it on 88 a table, gestured in the most melodramatic manner to Nick to sign it. Nick crossed the room and took up the paper. As he lifted it to read he saw that the pretended Mrs. Ansel had recovered consciousness, and was sitting upright on the sofa. As soon as she saw Nick had observed her, she began to play her part. “Oh, my husband!” she cried; “be merciful. I know appearances are against me, but you are mistaken. I have done no wrong. Listen to reason. This is not a lover. It is Mr. Carter, the great detective.” “I care not who he is,” cried the other, in a great pretense of fury. “You met him by appointment. I watched you send the letter. I saw him meet you. I tracked you here. I saw you in his arms. I have witnesses. Sign you, sir!” It was very cheap acting, but through it all Nick had read the paper, and saw that it was an effort to make him compromise himself by signing it. “I shall sign nothing of this kind!” he said, quietly. “You won’t. You won’t give me justice!” cried the man, in a very tempest of fury. “I won’t sign this ridiculous document,” said Nick, “for it is not true.” “Then I will take action at once. You must stay here. What, ho, my friends!” Three men, thorough ruffians, looking like dissipated prize-fighters, appeared. <div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div> “You will watch this man until I return. I go for my lawyer and a magistrate. Hold this man until I return. Come with me, you faithless woman!” He sprang at the pretended Mrs. Ansel, and, seizing her by the arm, whirled her out of the room. <div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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