Library 
A FRIEND IN NEED.
Nick Carter’s intuition in regard to the telephone girl was verified much sooner than he really expected. He entered his Madison Avenue residence about an hour later and found in the library his two chief assistants, Chickering Carter and Patsy Garvan. He heard the following remarks from Patsy as he was approaching the open door.
“She certainly is a peach, Chick, and I felt dead sorry for her. She’s in wrong, all right, but I don’t half credit the charges, at that.”
“What charges, Patsy?” Nick inquired, entering. “Of whom were you speaking?”
“Of a girl I saw at police headquarters about twenty minutes ago,” said Patsy, turning from his desk. “I went down there on that Waldron case.”
“Was the girl under arrest?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“For helping a crook elude the police,” Patsy explained. “She denied it, chief, sobbing as if her heart would break; but they’re putting her through the third degree now, hoping to break her down and force a confession from her. My money goes on the girl, chief, all the same.
{6}
”
“Who is the girl?” Nick questioned. “Did you learn any of the circumstances?”
“Sure!” nodded Patsy. “Her name is Helen Bailey.”
“H’m, is that so?”
“She’s a telephone girl, and a sister of Barton Bailey, wanted for robbery in Mantell & Goulard’s big department store, where he was employed at the time. He got away with a diamond sunburst, you remember, and nearly cracked the skull of Gus Flint, one of the store detectives, who had seen him lift the bauble and tried to prevent his escape. That was six months ago.”
“Yes, I recall the case,” said Nick, with a more serious expression. “But what are the circumstances bearing on the girl’s arrest?”
“It seems that Bart Bailey was seen going into a house in East Forty-third Street about ten o’clock this morning,” Patsy continued. “He was in disguise, but was recognized by some one who declined to give his name to the headquarters chief, to whom he hastened to telephone.”
“He stated, I suppose, that he had seen Bailey going into the house.”
“That’s what,” said Patsy. “The chief then called up the precinct station and told the sergeant to go to the house with a couple of men and get Bailey.”
“I see.”
“Before he could finish giving his instructions, including the number of the house, the telephone connection was suddenly broken. Nearly ten minutes passed before the chief could get it renewed, and that brief delay cost the guns their man. When they arrived at the house, Bailey had been gone about three minutes.”
“Did the chief know his sister is employed in the telephone exchange?”
“Bet you!” exclaimed Patsy sententiously. “Let him alone to have learned that. He has had men out after Bailey for nearly six months. He learned, too, that Helen Bailey was the operator who connected him with the precinct station, and he noticed while talking with the sergeant that the connection was broken once and quickly renewed.”
“Precisely,” thought Nick, recalling his own observations. “He was not alone.”
“Half a minute later,” Patsy added, “it was broken completely, and the chief lost his man. It made him sore, for fair. He knows the girl must have overheard his orders to the sergeant, and he suspects that she purposely cut him off and afterward telephoned her brother to bolt.”
“Not an unreasonable inference,” Nick allowed, a bit grimly. “Nevertheless, Patsy, the girl did nothing of the kind.”
“Gee whiz!” Patsy returned, gazing. “Are you wise to something bearing on the case? Do you mean——”
“Never mind what I mean,” Nick interposed, glancing at his watch. “I’ll inform you later. I’ll knock those suspicions out of the chief’s head in about two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Helen Bailey is a heroine—much more heroic than most girls would have been under the same temptation.”
Nick did not wait to explain to Chick and Patsy. Disregarding their looks of surprise, he replaced his hat and started immediately for the police headquarters. He was so well known there, where his services were very frequently required, that no one would have thought of
{7}
opposing him. He learned that the chief still was talking with Helen Bailey in his private office, into which Nick walked without the ceremony of knocking.
The chief regarded him with a look of surprise. It became more marked, even, when Helen Bailey, pale and with eyes red from weeping, uttered a low cry and exclaimed:
“Oh, sir, here is the man who assisted me. This is the man I have told you about. He knows that my faint was not feigned. He will tell you——”
“I will tell the chief all that is necessary, Miss Bailey,” Nick interposed, smiling and shaking hands with her. “I am very glad to be able to befriend you.”
“Goodness!” said the chief, with his austerity suddenly vanished. “What do you know about this matter, Nick?”
“I know all about it, chief,” Nick replied, taking a chair. “Garvan was here when this young lady was brought in. He has told me why she was arrested and what you suspect. But you’re in wrong, chief, and I’ve come here to say a word for the girl.”
“A word from you, Carter, is usually enough,” replied the chief, while Helen Bailey, hearing the name of the famous detective, gazed at him with amazement and inexpressible relief.
“I can explain in a nutshell,” said Nick. “I was in the telephone office, chief, and saw all that occurred.”
“What did you make of it, Carter?” asked the chief.
Nick then told him all he had seen and what he had done.
“This girl did not cut you off, chief, but quite the contrary,” he added. “She knew, nevertheless, precisely what your communication signified. I saw her withdraw the plug once, then willfully reinsert it. I saw how terribly she felt, how terribly she was tempted—and I now know, too, with what heroism she resisted the temptation and stuck to her duty, though it involved the sacrifice of her own brother.”
The chief gazed for a moment at the detective, who had spoken quite feelingly.
“The girl has told me that, Nick, but I could not credit it,” he said, more gravely.
“It is true, chief. You can bank on it.”
“I’m mighty glad you have showed up, then.”
“I knew you would be.”
The chief turned to Helen Bailey and laid his hand on hers.
“Pardon me, my girl,” he said gently. “We have hard duties to perform at times, and duty leaves us no alternative. You are a good girl and a brave girl, and I’m sorry to have given you so much pain and trouble. I now believe all you have told me, and I’m very proud of you.”
Helen was sobbing again, but with mingled gratitude and relief. She turned and grasped Nick’s hand, saying brokenly:
“Oh, Mr. Carter, how can I thank you—how can I thank you?”
“By not trying to do so,” Nick replied kindly. “These little services are the bright spots in our lives. Go and wait for me in the outer office. I wish to talk with the chief a few moments and I then will join you.”
Helen dried her tear-filled eyes and obeyed him.
Nick had remained only to question the chief concerning Bart Bailey, and to find out what had been learned about him in the house he had been seen to enter.
“Nothing was known about him there, Nick,” the chief
{8}
replied. “It is a lodging house and is run by an honest, elderly woman. Bailey was there about ten days ago, remaining only two nights, and requesting the privilege of leaving a suit case until he could call for it.”
“That is why he went there this morning?”
“Yes. He remained only ten minutes.”
“He is a stranger to the landlady, I infer.”
“Yes, a total stranger. She knows nothing about him. I happen to know, however, that he’s a very bad egg, and I wanted to get him.”
Nick remained only a few moments longer, then went to the outer office and rejoined the waiting girl.
“Come with me,” he said pleasantly. “There is no occasion for you to remain here. I don’t think you will ever be wanted again, Miss Bailey.”
“I cannot express my gratitude, Mr. Carter,” she replied, while she accompanied him to the street.
“Don’t try,” smiled Nick. “Tell me something about yourself and your brother. He used to work for Mantell & Goulard, I understand.”
“Yes, sir. Young Mr. Mantell gave him a position there for—for my sake,” said Helen, blushing in a way that Nick rightly interpreted. “But Bart can’t go straight. He is bad, awfully bad. He is only my half brother, sir.”
Nick saw that the topic was a painful one for her, and he decided not to press his inquiries. He learned that the rascal had frequently threatened her, however, because of her refusals to join in his knavish projects, and that the girl stood somewhat in fear of him.
Nick took her Lexington Avenue address, therefore, and promised to aid her again if occasion required it. Smiling in response to her repeated thanks, he then placed her in a taxicab which he hailed and saw her driven rapidly away, well satisfied with the kindly deed he had done, but not supposing for a moment that it would have any further significance.
Comments (0)