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<h2 id="c13">CHAPTER XIII. POSSIBILITIES.</h2> Nick had summoned his faithful aids, Chick, Ida, and Patsy, to meet him at his apartments on his arrival. He found them awaiting him when he got home, and, without waste of time, sat down to tell them the incidents of the new case they were engaged on. “Of course,” he said, in conclusion, “you will see that in the occurrence of this murder, the poisoning of the dogs slips away into minor importance. “Yet, if Mrs. Constant’s suspicions are correct, the same person is responsible for both. “In that way, or that view of it, it becomes important to trace out that poisoning.” “The thing stands this way, then,” said Chick. “If Mrs. Constant is right about the murder of her sister, she is right about the dogs; if she is wrong about the dogs, she is wrong about the murder.” “As usual, Chick,” said Nick, “you state the whole thing in a nutshell. So, as the dog business is more easily followed than anything else, we will get into that investigation first.” “Don’t treat Mrs. Constant’s suspicions too lightly,” said Ida. “I think you will find that she has kept back her strongest reasons for suspecting Masson. She has 124 wanted you to guess them. Edith, as her friend, could get them from her.” Nick looked up at Ida, sharply, and said: “That is very shrewd, Ida.” Turning to Patsy, he went on: “I want you to take up the dog end of this case, Patsy.” “I am aching for that,” replied Patsy. “I’d rather run down a man who would kill a dog like that than anything else. But I say, chief, put me next to that swell banker. He’s one of my kind.” Chick and Ida laughed at this, and Nick said: “You shall have a note to him. As for you, Ida, you must go to Philadelphia. “There is this possibility, that the murder of Ethel Romney came out of her life in that city, before she came to New York—some trouble that she had there. “You must look into that, and we must know all about the life, habits, and even the romances, if any there are, of Ethel Romney. Here is a list of people who would be likely to know about her.” He handed her a slip of paper he had prepared for her, and went on: “There are other possibilities that we must look into. There is that of suicide. “It is possible, but not probable. “Unless the girl had something back in her life, Ethel was more likely to look to the future with pleasure than otherwise. <div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div> “She had come to live in plenty and elegance with a sister to whom she was much attached. “Then, there is the possibility that the murder was the outcome of an attempt by some fellow, bolder than usual, who managed to get into the carriage, supposing that the woman in it had money or jewelry with her. “All these possibilities must be examined and run down before I am willing to take up the suspicions of Mrs. Constant as to Masson. But that does not mean that we shall not keep Masson in view. “These things will be undertaken by Chick and I.” Nick now went to the desk, and, writing a letter, handed it to Patsy, saying: “You want to get to work at once, Patsy, while the trail is warm.” Patsy hurried away, and Ida, saying that, unless the chief had further instructions, she would go, too, followed the lad out of the apartment. “Now, Chick,” said Nick. “To send Edith to Mrs. Constant, and then you and I will take up the most difficult part of the work.” In a few moments these two shrewd detectives were on their way to the neighborhood of the Constant residence. As they were riding uptown in the car, Nick said: “Mrs. Constant’s theory is that Ethel was killed by a person who had intended to kill her, but was misled by the strong resemblance between Ethel and herself. “That resemblance is great,” admitted Nick. “I was misled by it myself twice—once shortly after I had been 126 introduced to Mrs. Constant, and again when Ethel brought that package to me from Blanche Constant.” “But, chief,” said Chick, “you did not know at that time that Mrs. Constant had a twin sister; the mistake was a natural one. But if Masson was as well acquainted with Mrs. Constant as he seems to be it would be strange if he did not know of that twin sister.” “And would not have been easily misled,” said Nick. “You have struck a point that must be investigated.” “And there is a point on the other side,” said Chick. “The hard thing in adopting the theory of Mrs. Constant is that a man of the kind Masson is should commit murder, especially in cold blood. “Now, suppose that Masson did not know of the twin sister, suppose he climbed into that coach under the notion that Mrs. Constant was in it. Since it was Ethel Romney, she, of course, denied that she was Blanche or that she knew Masson, perhaps, to his anger, leading to the murder and the reason for it.” “That is,” said Nick, “supposing it to have been Masson, and that he lost his temper, he lost control of himself, in that denial.” “Yes, that is what I mean,” said Chick. “Well,” said Nick, “it all means that we have plenty of work to do and a lot of vexatious little inquiries. Whoever it was that got into that coach, whether it was Masson or some one else, in my opinion crept into the coach while it was standing in front of that dressmaker’s establishment to which Ethel Romney went.” <div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div> This conversation had occupied the greater portion of their trip uptown. As they stepped off the car, Nick saw the man Rawson, who was the driver for Mrs. Constant. He appeared to be looking for some one. Rawson brightened up as Nick approached, and said: “I have been looking for you, Mr. Carter, because I have got something to say. I have been thinking over that ride last night, and especially since you asked me to-day about its being likely that any one got into that carriage.” “Yes, have you thought of anything more?” said Nick. “Well, yes,” said Rawson. “It isn’t much, but, then, I ought to tell you. You see, I didn’t think much when you asked me that question, but since I have. “The lady was in a great hurry to get back home, and as soon as she got into the carriage from that dressmaker’s I touched up the horses and started off at a good gait. “I didn’t think much then of it, but I am thinking now that as the lady got into the coach I heard a sort of cry or scream from her, but the door slammed shut right after it, and I was off at once.” Nick looked at Chick, and the latter said: “It looks, chief, as if you were right as to when the person got into the coach.” “Yes,” said Nick; “that would look as if the man was already in the coach, and the noise that Ethel made was a cry of surprise at finding some one there.” <div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div> Turning to Rawson, he said: “It looks like a very important point, Rawson, and I wish you would keep up thinking about it. Any little thing about the whole matter tell me of.” What answer Rawson might have made to this was prevented by a man who was evidently a stableman, coming up and addressing Rawson, not knowing who the two were the coachman was talking to. He said: “I say, Rawson, it’s true, isn’t it, that you drove the woman that was killed in the coach yesterday?” “Yes, it’s true; worse luck,” said Rawson. “Well, say,” said the man, “the papers say there wasn’t any man with the woman in that coach. I say there was. What do you say?” “I say there wasn’t,” said Rawson. “Well, you’re wrong there.” Rawson was about to deny this somewhat strongly, but Nick stopped him, and said to the man: “What do you know about it?” “I know there was a man ridin’ with her.” “How do you know it?” asked Nick. “Why,” said the man, “I was standin’ in Sixth Avenue talkin’ with a friend when I saw my friend here, Rawson, pulled up in front of a swell dressmaker’s. “Then I see his lady, the one he drives for, get out and go into the dressmaker’s. “Well, ’twan’t any of my biz, and I wasn’t lookin’ sharp. By and by I happened to look at the coach, and there was a swell in it.” <div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div> “Are you sure of that?” asked Chick. “Sure. But, anyhow, my friend breaks away and I gets on the trolley to go to the stable. When I gets up to Fifty-eighth Street I goes into a saloon. “When I had put away a couple of beers, I comes out and I stands in front lookin’ at a block a big truck loaded with iron had made, when I see Rawson pulled up. “Then I see my swell guy in the coach open the door on the other side, get out, shut the door after him, and slip over to the other side.” “What’s your name?” sharply asked Nick. “What’s that to you?” replied the other. “Johnny,” said Rawson, “this is Mr. Carter, the celebrated detective.” The man started, a little frightened, and immediately became far more respectful. “My name is Johnny Moran,” he said. “What is your business, Moran?” asked Nick. “I am a stableman, sometimes drivin’ for a livery stable right near where Rawson works.” “He’s all right,” said Rawson. “We worked together in the same stables before, and he is a good man.” “I have no doubt of that. He looks like it,” said Nick. “Now, Moran, what did this man you saw in the coach look like?” “Well, he was a swell.” “Describe him as near as you can.” The man seemed to be embarrassed, and hung his head, as if trying to think hard. <div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div> “I didn’t just see his face,” he said, at length. “He had on a shiny hat, and whiskers all around his face, that were dark, and the clothes he had on were swell.” “Would you know him again if you were to see him?” The man shook his head doubtfully, and finally said: “I don’t know about that. You see, I didn’t think anything was wrong then, and I wasn’t stagging him off for anything. If he was dressed just the same maybe I would, but I wouldn’t want to swear to it.” He thought a little while, and then said: “He was about as tall as him,” he pointed to Chick. Then he went on: “Seems to me, as he went across the street with his back to me, he had a trick of hitching up his right shoulder.” “How hitching it up?” asked Chick. “It was more than that—it was a kind of a jerk.” “Is that all you can tell us?” asked Nick. “It is all that I can think of now.” “If we should want you to go with us some time, where could we find you?” asked Nick. “You can find me at the stable most any time, and I’ll go with you whenever you want me to.” “What you have already told us, Moran,” said Nick, “is very important. It has settled one question that we were in great doubt about.” The two detectives turned away, and, as they walked off in the direction of the Constant house, Nick said: “Chick, luck’s with us.” <div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div> “Nick Carter’s luck,” Chick said, with a laugh. “It’s luck, whosever it is,” said Nick, “for we might have hunted a long time before we got such direct evidence of the correctness of our theory, that the man entered that coach when it stood in front of the dressmaker’s.” “I suppose that we must assume that he did enter there,” said Chick, “but we are weak on that evidence.” “We have direct evidence as to how he left the coach after the murder,” said Nick. “I think we can safely assume that there is where he did enter the coach. However, there is something for you to do, and that is to go down into that neighborhood and see if you can establish the fact for a certainty that he did enter there.” “Then I had better do it without loss of time,” said Chick. “I will go right away.” Thus it was that the detectives separated at that point. <div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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