With Links of Steel; Or, The Peril of the Unknown. Carter Nicholas
owe you an apology. Our Mr. Boyden left some diamonds with you a short time ago, which should have been delivered to Tiffany & Co. Mr. Hafferman read the order without his spectacles, and it's rather a good joke on him, for he thought it was signed Venner & Co. The blunder was partly owing to the fact, no doubt, that Mr. Venner called to see him yesterday about some diamonds."
"There!" exclaimed Garside, as if quite pleased to discover that he had been so nearly right. "I knew well enough that Venner had not sent out any order without mentioning it to me. Yes, your Mr. Boyden left the stones here. For Tiffany & Co., eh?"
"Yes, sir, and they should have been delivered long ago," was the reply, with a conventional laugh. "If you please, I'll leave them there on my way back. Deucedly stupid blunder on Hafferman's part, I'm sure; and I hope—"
"Oh, there's no harm done, I guess, and but little time lost," interrupted Garside, joining in the other's laugh. "You will deliver them, you say?"
"If you please."
"Here, Joseph, hand me that package of diamonds left here by Boyden. They were sent to us by mistake. I knew it well enough at the time. Here you are, Mr. ——"
"Raymond, sir. I am cashier at Hafferman's. Many thanks. Sorry to have troubled you—very sorry."
"No trouble at all," laughed Garside, accompanying Mr. Raymond toward the street door. "The trouble has been all yours, sir."
"That's quite true," smiled Raymond, as he bowed himself out with the package of diamonds in his hand. "But now the pleasure is all mine!" he added to himself, upon reaching the sidewalk.
Then he strode rapidly away, quickly losing himself in the midday stream of people thronging the famous New York thoroughfare.
Less than five minutes later, before any misgivings had crept into the mind of Mr. Garside, the senior member of the firm came hurrying into the store.
"Oh, I say, Venner!" exclaimed his partner, stopping him near the office door. "What diamonds are you thinking of buying of Hafferman?"
"Of Hafferman?" echoed Venner, with a look of surprise.
"Weren't you looking at some stones there yesterday?"
"Yes, certainly. Some very choice diamonds. I want ten of the first water, a little larger and more perfectly matched than any we have in stock at present. But how did you learn that I had called there?"
Mr. Garside quickly informed him of the several incidents of the past half hour, when, to his consternation and dismay a look of sudden apprehension swept over Venner's face.
"Raymond—the name of Hafferman's cashier!" he cried. "Nothing of the sort, Philip. Their cashier is named Briggs. I know him well."
"Briggs! Briggs!"
"Briggs—yes, Briggs!" reiterated Mr. Venner, excitedly. "By Heaven, there must be something wrong here!"
"Dear me! If this Raymond was an impostor, we are done out of—"
"Wait—wait!"
Checking his partner with an impulsive gesture, Venner rushed into his private office and seized his desk telephone, quickly calling up the firm by which the diamonds had been sent.
Garside followed him into the room, only to hear the questions hurriedly asked over the wire by his excited partner, who presently dropped the telephone and leaped to his feet, crying loudly, so loudly that his voice filled the entire store, and brought all hands hurrying in his direction:
"There's no doubt of it, Garside, none whatever. You have been duped—swindled—robbed of four thousand dollars' worth of gems! Raymond was an impostor—a crook—"
"Venner—hush! You are losing your head," protested Garside, white with dismay. "It's enough that we have lost the stones, so at least keep your head. Waste not a moment. Notify the police. Telephone at once for men from the central office."
"Blast the police! The central office be hanged!" cried Venner, choking down an oath of wrathful contempt. "I'll have none of your police—none of your central office men! I want a detective—not an effigy of one!"
"Rufus—"
"Silence, Garside, and leave this affair to me," Venner harshly interrupted. "You've had fingers enough in it already."
With which rebuke Mr. Rufus Venner strode passionately out of the office and into the store proper, shouting loudly to the clerk previously mentioned:
"Maynard—here you, Maynard! Call a cab at once and go for Nick Carter! Lose not a moment! Don't wait to ask questions, you blockhead! Away with you, at once! Bring Nick Carter here with the least possible delay!"
Maynard had already seized his coat and hat, and was hurrying out of the store.
And thus began one of the most stirring and extraordinary criminal cases that ever fell within the broad experience of the famous New York detective mentioned.
CHAPTER II.
CONCERNING SEÑORA CERVERA.
Joseph Maynard arrived at Nick Carter's residence just as the famous New York detective was about preparing for lunch, and quickly stated his mission, disclosing the superficial features of the crime.
Nick Carter habitually looked below the surface of things, however, and in trifles he invariably discovered more than the ordinary man. Before Maynard had fairly outlined the case Nick keenly discerned that the robbery could not have been committed by any common criminals, and he at once decided not only that he would take the case, but also that it gave promise of something far more startling than then appeared aboveboard.
Yet even Nick's keen discernment utterly failed, at this early stage of the affair, to anticipate its actual magnitude and tragic possibilities.
Having consented to accompany Maynard to the scene of the crime, Nick turned to Chick Carter, his reliable chief assistant, who also had been an attentive listener to Maynard's disclosures.
"You had better come with me, Chick," said he. "This affair has rather a bad look, and in case quick work is imperative, I may need your assistance."
"Go with you it is, Nick," Chick heartily cried, hastening to put on his coat and hat.
"From the circumstances disclosed by Maynard, however," added Nick, "I am inclined to think that these rats have very carefully covered their tracks, and that a still hunt for their trail may prove to be our stunt. Yet you had better go along with me."
"I'm ready when you are, Nick."
"Very good. Come on, Mr. Maynard. I see you have a carriage at the door. We will not delay even for lunch, but will snatch a bite later."
Together the three men left the house, and it was precisely one o'clock when Nick was ushered into the private office of Venner & Co., where the two members of the firm then were seated, apparently still engaged in discussing the audacious robbery.
Mr. Rufus Venner, it may be here stated, was a man of about forty years of age, and was a very well-known man about town. Darkly handsome, with an erect and imposing figure, an habitué of the best clubs, a man still unmarried, yet of whom hints were frequently dropped that he was very popular with the fair sex, whom he was known to lavishly entertain at times—this was the senior member of the firm of Venner & Co., and the man who, quickly arose to greet Nick Carter and Chick when the two detectives entered.
"Your clerk has already given me the main facts of the case, Mr. Venner, so we will dispense with any rehearsal of them, and get right