“Gentlemen,” said he, “I want the signature of your firm, in the handwriting of each of you. Kindly let me have this.”
“What’s that for?” demanded Venner, abruptly.
“I wish to make a comparison with the forged order which my assistant will presently bring from Mr. Hafferman,” Nick coolly explained. “I would suggest that you do not delay me.”
Venner made no reply, but took a pen and signed the firm’s name upon the blank paper.
“Now yours, Mr. Garside.”
“Mine also, Detective Carter?” queried Garside, with a look of surprise.
“If you please.”
“Surely,” cried Venner, with some resentment, “you do not suspect that Mr. Garside or myself—”
“Pardon me!” Nick bluntly interrupted. “I am not in the habit of discussing my suspicions. That I should suspect either of you, however, is utterly absurd.”
“I should say so!”
“Therefore do not argue with me over an absurdity. If I am to continue this investigation, gentlemen, I must do it in my own way. Either that, or I shall drop the case at once. Your signature, Mr. Garside.”
Garside hastened to take the pen, and dashed off the firm’s signature below that of his partner. Nick tore the page from the block, then handed the latter to Venner.
“Now, Mr. Venner,” said he, “have each of your employees, from first to last, write his name with pen and ink upon this paper. Don’t overlook one of them, not one, from your bookkeeper down to your office boy. If Spaulding is still out, get his signature later, and send it to me by mail. I will wait here while you are thus engaged.”
Venner now vaguely perceived Nick’s suspicions and design, and he could not consistently offer any remonstrance. Yet he plainly resented the idea that any of his clerks could have been guilty of co-operation with the criminals who had committed the robbery that morning, and his dark features wore a grim and sullen expression when he took the block of paper and repaired to his main office.
Nick Carter sat and waited, silently sizing up the case as he then saw it.
Just as Venner returned with the numerous signatures, Chick also put in an appearance again, bringing with him the forged order which had been left at Hafferman’s store. Nick merely glanced at it, then thrust it into his pocket.
“Did you see Boyden?” he inquired of Chick.
“Yes, and spoke with him,” nodded Chick.
“What about him?”
“He looks all right.”
“Did you get the signatures of Hafferman and his clerks?”
“They are on this paper.”
“Good enough. Let me have those of your employees, Mr. Venner. Are they all here?”
“Yes, all of them.”
“Very good,” said Nick, putting the several papers into his pocket. “Now, Chick, what of the man who visited Hafferman’s store with the forged order?”
“He merely left the order and asked that the diamonds should be sent here at once.”
“What sort of a man?”
“Dark, about fifty, with a heavy mustache and wavy hair,” said Chick, glibly. “Quite a big fellow, Hafferman states.”
“H’m!” ejaculated Nick, with a significant nod. “Now, Mr. Garside, describe the man to whom you delivered the diamonds.”
“Raymond?”
“If that is the name he gave you.”
“He is a well-built, smoothly shaven fellow, of about thirty years, with a sallow complexion, slightly pock-marked—”
“Ah, I thought so!” Nick curtly interrupted. “That’s quite sufficient, Mr. Garside.”
“What do you mean, Carter?” quickly demanded Venner. “Do you already recognize these criminals?”
“I recognize their work.”
“And the men?”
“I’ve them in mind from the outset.”
“Impossible!”
“Not so, Mr. Venner,” Nick now declared, with emphasis. “Without a shadow of doubt, sir, you have been victimized by the notorious Kilgore diamond gang, a trio of the shrewdest and most daring scoundrels that ever stood in leather.”
“You amaze me.”
“Do I?” inquired Nick, smiling softly. “Well, sir, if I were to tell you the history of these rascals, you would be more than amazed—you would be astounded. No crime is too desperate, no knavery too hazardous, no villainy too despicable, for them to attempt, and too often successfully execute. They have perpetrated their crimes over two continents, and are known to the police the world over.”
“That is not very complimentary to the police,” said Venner, dryly. “I marvel that such distinguished scoundrels are still at large.”
“A fact which stamps them no ordinary criminals,” replied Nick, pointedly. “Nor are they, sir.”
“What do you know of them, Detective Carter?”
“David Kilgore, the chief of the gang, is one of the shrewdest and most daring of knaves, a man of splendid education, polished manners and broad experience. He possesses nerves of steel, the cunning of a fox, and would not shrink even from murder, if his designs required it. Yet he invariably covers his tracks so cleverly, or so quickly vanishes when hard pressed, that thus far he has successfully eluded the police. That’s David Kilgore, sir.”
“And what of his associates?” inquired Venner. “I think you spoke of a trio.”
“His confederates are scamps of the same sort, and nearly his equal in craft and daring,” replied Nick. “Perry Dalton is one—the smooth, pock-marked rascal whom you, Mr. Garside, had the pleasure of meeting this morning. He is nicknamed Spotty Dalton, because of his slight disfigurement.”
“And the other?”
“Is a man named Matthew Stall, more commonly called Matt Stall. He is a Western man, a graduate of a California university, and is an expert electrician. Oh, I know all about them,” laughed Nick, “although this is the first time I have been up against them personally. I am rather glad to discover that they are here in New York.”
“Why so, Detective Carter?” Venner carelessly inquired, with a subtle gleam in the depths of his dark eyes.
“Because I have long wanted to match my talents against those of Dave Kilgore and his rascally push,” declared Nick, with grim austerity. “The last I knew of them they were in Amsterdam, Holland, where some of the finest work in diamond cutting is done, as you doubtless know.”
“Indeed, yes.”
“They probably had to jump that country for obvious reasons, and very likely the European continent,” added Nick. “They have long avoided New York, and the fact that they are now here is significant of—well, well, we shall see! That’s all, gentlemen!”
“But what do you intend doing about this case?” demanded Venner, as Nick abruptly rose to go.
“All that can be done, sir,” the famous detective bluntly rejoined. “I accept the case, Mr. Venner, and will do my best with it. When I have anything to report, you shall hear from me.”
“But—”