The Adventures of Ethel King, the Female Nick Carter

by Jean Petithuguenin

  Arling thanked Gettys warmly for his kindness in taking charge of his interests and left.

  When he left, the constable began to pace up and down nervously.

  “So that imbecile Bill Sandy missed his shot,” he murmured. “He almost got himself arrested and me with him. But this time I’ll succeed and I’ll kill two birds with one stone. I’ll have Minnie Willow’s fortune and the good graces of Wanda Baranowsky.”

  The Sign of the Devil

  Before going to Swanborough, Ethel King had gone to see Inspector Golding, with whom she was on excellent terms. She told him she had taken on the Ralf Arling case.

  The inspector looked at her with astonishment.

  “But that case is virtually closed!” he said. “Arling’s guilt is proven. We have nothing more to do but proceed to the arrest of the guilty man.”

  Ethel had received sufficient explanations from Mrs. Willow not to blindly share the opinion of the Chief of Police.

  “That doesn’t matter,” she said. “I want to go to Swanborough to see Doctor Arling’s fiancée. I have an idea I’ll learn something new.”

  “As you like, Miss King. But it seems to me the case isn’t important enough to justify the intervention of an Ethel King.”

  “I don’t share your opinion,” the detective answered. “What’s more important for a detective than to snatch an innocent person from dishonor?”

  With Charley Lux, who had waited for her in the hall, she went to take the first train to Swanborough. The afternoon was already far advanced when they arrived at the little borough. They reached the somewhat isolated country house of Mrs. Willow.

  “Ah! Miss King! Here you are!” exclaimed the widow. “You can’t believe with what impatience I was waiting for you. Sit down, please. Let me describe the character of my fiancé and tell you about his present life.”

  Ethel and her cousin sat down facing Minnie and the latter cited haphazardly from her memories numerous facts from which it became apparent that the young scientist was a loyal, noble, and generous man, incapable of a bad act. Then she came to the terrible accusation the police had lodged against Dr. Arling. She repeated almost word for word the conversation she had had with John Gettys, the constable. The young woman frankly set forth to the detective the charges leveled against her fiancé. She finally let her indignation burst forth when she repeated Gettys insinuations that she would change her opinion when Arling was in jail.

  “I swear to you, Miss King, my fiancé is innocent. I have hidden nothing from you. I could cite you a thousand traits of loyalty and generosity in Ralf.”

  “I’ve heard enough now, Mrs. Willow. I believe you and I entirely share your conviction. I can’t believe in the guilt of a man like Dr. Arling. It’s absurd to think that a young scientist can in this way, from one day to the next, become a common burglar.”

  The young woman took Miss King’s hand in gratitude.

  “How happy I am to hear you say that!” she exclaimed. “It’s a great relief for me to finally find a sympathetic person who shares my conviction.”

  “Yes, I repeat, I share it entirely. But I now ask you, Mrs. Willow, to answer some questions. According to what you’ve told me, Constable Gettys maintains that he came to tell you about the situation, following the orders of his superiors?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he lied. Neither the Chief of Police nor his subordinates have thought about giving him such a mission. But let’s go on. Were you acquainted with Gettys before his visit to you today?”

  “Yes, I invited him sometimes to my evening parties and he came to see me from time to time.”

  “Was he among the number of men who wanted to marry you?”

  “He asked me twice to marry him.”

  “Did he seem to be very passionate?”

  Minnie smiled tiredly.

  “Oh! They all were! It’s probably because of my fortune, Miss King, that I have so many marriage proposals.”

  “Your engagement to Dr. Arling must have caused many disappointments.”

  “You may say so!”

  “Did any of your suitors who were turned down show resentment?”

  “Yes, there were even some who reproached me bitterly.”

  “And John Gettys?”

  “Some days after my engagement, he came to my house with the Doctor. He congratulated me, but it was easy to see that his compliments were not sincere.”

  “And today, did he speak to you about his love?”

  “No, he just told me he would always be my devoted friend.”

  “The conduct of this constable seems very strange to me. In my opinion, it wasn’t compassion that compelled him to come and tell you about the events; I have, instead, the impression that he experienced a feeling of triumph in telling you about them.”

  “There are so many incomprehensible things in this affair!” Minnie noted. “I can’t explain how that locket was found in the offices of Timbora & Son, nor how they found the empty strong box in my fiancé’s house.”

  At these words, the young widow placed Dr. Arling’s locket in a dish.

  “Ah! You have the medallion?” Ethel King questioned, surprised.

  “Yes, Mr. Gettys forgot it. He had handed it to me. I kept it in my hand during our conversation and he didn’t remember to take it back.”

  “Show it to me, please.”

  Ethel took the piece of jewelry and examined it carefully. She made a movement of surprise.

  “Dr. Arling didn’t lose this locket; it was stolen from him,” she stated. “The link which held it to the chain has been cut with pliers. Look at it!”

  “Then the factory burglar would be the pickpocket who robbed my fiancé!” Minnie exclaimed.

  “Maybe. In any case, the discovery that I’ve just made conspicuously reduces the charges made against Dr. Arling. I’m going back to Philadelphia with my assistant to investigate at your fiancé’s house. I also intend to pay a little visit to Mr. Gettys.”

  The detective consulted a timetable and found that the first train for Philadelphia didn’t leave for another three hours. It was approaching nightfall. Ethel King certainly couldn’t get back to Philadelphia before 8 p.m. After thinking about it, she decided to leave Charley with Mrs. Willow.

  “I can’t help thinking that there is, at the bottom of all this, a plot to prevent your marriage with Dr. Arling. Charley may perhaps find some interesting clue here.”

  Mrs. Willow naturally made no objection. She called the maid and told her to prepare two place settings for Ethel King and Charley Lux, who would dine with the widow.

  At 7:15 p.m., as night fell, the car ordered from Philadelphia arrived. The driver rang the bell at the wrought iron gate to the garden. He knew he had come to pick up Ethel King. When the maid opened the door to him, he asked to speak to the detective immediately.

  He was taken quickly to speak to Ethel King, who saw that he was very excited.

  “What has happened to you?” she asked.

  “Oh! It’s terrible, Miss,” the driver answered. “You’re familiar with the road that runs between Swanborough and the area before it, on the Philadelphia side, a deserted place. There’s nothing on the right or left but harvest fields or moors. From time to time there are also small woods. On leaving Philadelphia, I turned on the acetylene headlights of my auto and I started on the way at full speed. They had told me I was to pick you up, Miss King, and I thought you were certainly in a hurry. I had just gone past a wood, about a mile from here, and I was watching the open plain in front of me, when a man suddenly surged into my headlights. He was carrying a shapeless packet on his shoulders. I saw him at the last moment when he was no more than 30 feet in front of the car. I hit my brakes and blew my horn.

  “The man was frightened and jumped to one side; he stumbled and almost lost his balance. In order not to fall, he dropped his burden, which rolled onto the ground, sliding out of the canvas in which it was wrapped. I couldn’t hold back a cry of terror in
seeing clearly by my headlights the object the stranger had just dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the cadaver of a decapitated, half-nude man. I could clearly see the trunk bleeding from the shoulders. I almost fainted. I instinctively stopped. But at the same moment a voice yelled at me: ‘Go on your way!’ Shots from a revolver burst out behind me and some bullets whistled past my ears. I thought it prudent to flee. I drove my car as fast as it would go. I took only a few minutes to get here.”

  Ethel King had stood up.

  “Come, Charley. It’s certainly a matter of a terrible crime. Driver, take us as quickly as possible to the spot where that situation happened to you.”

  Ethel and Charley took leave of Mrs. Willow. That story by the driver had put her into an indescribable state of nerves. Five minutes later the automobile arrived with the speed of an express train at a turn in the road, very near a little wood.

  “Look!...Look over there!” Ethel King suddenly shouted.

  She pointed in the direction of an isolated barn, the outline of which could be vaguely distinguished some distance away. On the black mass of the construction an immense question mark lit up the night. That luminous sign produced a fantastic effect. The car stopped in front of the barn.

  “Wait with the car,” Ethel King ordered the driver.

  She jumped onto the road with Charley and crossed the field which separated the road from the barn. At that moment, a country man, running, appeared in the headlights.

  “In the name of heaven, come with me,” he cried out. “Look at that brilliant sign. It was surely the devil who drew it there and the unfortunate victim he struck down is there.”

  Ethel King went forward with Charley and the countryman and arrived in front of the barn door where the question mark gave off a phosphorescent light. A decapitated cadaver was stretched out in front of the entry to the barn. It was naked to the waist. He had been left only with his shoes and his trousers. He had no ring on his finger; his pockets were empty; and the few clothes he was still wearing bore no mark whatsoever, nor anything in particular that could serve to establish the victim’s identity. Ethel King turned her pocket electric flashlight on the decapitated man; she leaned over to examine him. The countryman was watching that scene, terribly afraid. He was constantly looking around him, as if he feared to see the devil appear.

  “It’s the devil who did that,” he repeated. “He’s the only one who could have done it. A man wouldn’t know how to write with fire.”

  “This crime is the work of a man, and not of the devil,” Ethel King said gravely. “Charley, we’re not going to leave this county before we lay hands on the scoundrels who committed such an atrocity.”

  The young detective nodded silently. Ethel told the countryman not to touch the body before the coroner and the police had come to make their investigation.

  “In the name of heaven! What are you thinking about?” the man answered. “I’ll certainly be careful not to touch this dead man, because it was Satan that cut off his head, and if I touch him, the same thing will certainly happen to me.”

  Ethel King herself gave up trying to find a clue on the victim.

  “The criminal wanted to cover his crime with a veil of mystery,” she said. “In that way he was probably counting on arousing superstitious terror in the inhabitants of the countryside which would keep them from alerting the police.”

  With Charley she went back in the direction of the automobile, which was waiting at the edge of the road.

  “Could you make out the murderer’s features?” the detective asked the driver.

  “No, I was going too fast and when I stopped my car I didn’t have time to turn around. The bullets were already flying past my ears and I sped off. I didn’t want to leave my skin here!”

  Ethel King and her cousin began to search for tracks in the fields, using their electric pocket flashlights. They had come very near the barn, some 100 feet from the road, when they suddenly heard the roar of the automobile motor. The automobile had been put into gear and was driving away in the direction of Philadelphia.

  Ethel King made a megaphone of her hands and yelled out:

  “Where are you going? Wait!”

  The driver didn’t answer, but there was a cry, then an explosion. Some seconds later, the automobile picked up speed and moved away with insane speed.

  For a moment, Ethel King remained struck with astonishment, then she exclaimed:

  “It’s the murderer! He attacked the driver and made off with the auto. Run after him, Charley!”

  The young detective sprinted off. Certainly he couldn’t dream of catching the car, but he wanted at least to make an effort not to lose sight of him.

  Ethel watched him for a moment as he went down the road. She hardly expected that he would succeed in seeing the direction the murderer had taken. An idea came to her. She wanted to return to Mrs. Willow’s house and telephone Philadelphia to ask the police to stop the car when it arrived in the city.

  A Capture

  Ethel King’s conjectures were right. The driver was waiting on his seat for the return of the detectives, who were proceeding with their investigation. He saw the mysterious light shining on the barn and could not, any more than the countryman, keep from giving way to superstitious terror.

  He felt the car suddenly shake on its shock absorbers, as if someone had just jumped on the running board. He didn’t have time to turn around. A hand seized him by the throat and the cold barrel of a revolver was pressed against his temple.

  “Start driving, if you value your life,” a hoarse voice whispered in his ear.

  The unfortunate man, more terrified than ever, engaged the clutch, and started the car forward. He had hardly gone a few hundred feet when he heard Ethel King’s call. Then the poor devil cried out for help. That was his downfall; the murderer blew out his brains.

  The driver fell over and the murderer took his place at the wheel. The man scarcely knew how to drive an automobile; nevertheless, he kept up the speed and, for the first minute drove without encumbrance along the road that ran straight for half a mile or so; but following that he came to a sharp turn. And that’s where the inevitable catastrophe happened. The murderer wanted to turn, but he turned too suddenly and threw the vehicle into the ditch. A dull splintering sound rang out; the car turned over. The driver remained pinned under the car, while the criminal was thrown ten yards from there into a field and remained stretched out, unconscious.

  Charley Lux, who hadn’t given up the chase, had viewed the accident from a distance. He was pleased with the idea that the criminal would no longer escape him. Several minutes later he discovered the unconscious scoundrel. He was a poorly clothed, stocky man, with a brutish face.

  In his fall he had been struck on the head and was bleeding profusely, but his heart was still beating. The detective tied his hands and then dressed his wound. He had scarcely finished when the scoundrel opened his eyes. The first thing he did was to utter a vicious oath.

  “Swear if you like,” Charley told him, while helping him to get up. “You’ve been caught and you’ll get the punishment you deserve for your crimes.”

  He shoved him onto the road in the direction of Swanborough.

  “Go on, walk. And don’t try to get away unless you want to get a bullet in your shoulder.”

  The criminal hesitated a moment; on seeing the detective’s weapon aimed at him, he thought it wiser to obey. He started down the road, followed by Charley Lux. The two men took the road to Swanborough together, and after walking a half hour they saw the lights of the village before them. During the walk, the prisoner had turned around several times, but he had watched in vain for an opportunity to escape; he always saw Charley Lux’s lantern and revolver covering him. Attempting to flee seemed really too risky. In addition, he had a shoulder broken in several places. It hung down limp and was causing the scoundrel severe pain.

  Charley and his prisoner were reaching the first houses of the village when they saw
a vehicle drawn by two horses coming to meet them, with Ethel King and some police officers in it.

  She had at first telephoned Philadelphia as she had intended to; then she had gotten in touch with the Swanborough police, and, as there was no automobile in the little village, she had rented a carriage. While the coroner and the two policemen went to examine the cadaver of the driver and that of the decapitated man, they took the murderer to the police station.

  “What is your name,” Ethel asked him.

  The criminal didn’t answer.

  “You won’t gain anything by refusing to talk. On the contrary, you have every advantage in making a complete confession. Who is that decapitated man you murdered?”

  “I wasn’t the one who killed him,” the scoundrel protested.

  “Who was it then?”

  The prisoner remained stubbornly silent. Ethel pointed out:

  “If you say nothing, everyone will believe that you’re the murderer, and you won’t escape the death sentence. On the contrary, if you’re frank, the judges will be lenient toward you.”

  The scoundrel let himself be convinced. The pain he was experiencing, the consequence of his fall, contributed to wearing down his resistance.

  “It was John Gettys, the constable, who forced me,” he stammered. “I was at his mercy. Some time ago he caught me in the process of burglarizing a house. But instead of sending me to prison, he offered me my liberty on condition that I render him some services. I promised to do what he wanted.”

  “What is your name?” Ethel King asked for the second time.

  “Bill Sandy.”

  “What were you supposed to do?”

  “Dr. Arling, that you may know, came to Swanborough often. The constable commanded me to spy on him and to kill him when he crossed the moor on the way to the train station. Thursday evening I was hidden at the edge of a wood. I saw Dr. Arling pass by and I fired at him, but I missed. When John Gettys learned that, he went into a blue rage and he told me he would take charge of getting rid of Arling himself. He had thought of another plan.