Hello again, and welcome to another episode of forward into the past. I'm J.C. Rede. your host and narrator. And today we're kicking off another exciting adventure in the Nick Carter mysteries of yesteryear. This one called the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. And speaking of assistance, if you've been listening to the last two, Nick Carter stories or read any of the other Nick Carter mysteries on project Gutenberg, or even seeing the original story papers in a digital library, like the one hosted at Villanova university. Then you know that our master detective is assisted by two very clever assistance. Patsy Garvin and chick Carter, but who exactly are these two fellows? Well, if you lived in the United States around the turn of the 20th century, Especially somewhere that had a huge influx of immigrants from Europe. You would recognize the name Patsy as a sort of nickname for an Irish immigrant, with the given name of Patrick. The character of Patsy Garvin was originally a boot black, a shoeshine boy or a newsboy, depending on the storyline. And Nick would use the clever lad to assist him in his mysteries. As young Patsy grew older. He eventually became a great assistant detective to Nick and appeared in several stories. Strangely though. When Nick Carter mysteries began being broadcast on the radio. The character of Patsy became Nick Carter's female secretary, but she still assisted the master detective in well over 700 stories that were broadcast on the mutual radio network in the 1940s. Now. Chick is a little more unusual of a name and believe it or not, it's a short version of the name. Chickering. Uh, according to several websites that I've scoped out for information on Nick Carter stories and story papers and dime novels in general. Nick found the young man by the name of Chickering Valentine while solving a case in Nevada. The young ranch hand look very much like a young Nick Carter. So the master detective took young chick under his wing. Sorry, I just couldn't help myself with that pun. The boy shortened his name to chick and took on his adopted father's last name, Carter. Nick taught the young man, all he knew about. Well just about everything. And eventually chick became an accomplished detective of his own. Street and Smith, the publishers for the Nick Carter mysteries gave chick Carter his own series. And when Nick Carter stories transitioned to radio well, so did Chick. He had his own radio series for two years alongside the Nick Carter radio program. Now going back to those original printed stories in the New York weekly. A great, many of those stories are often seen with the byline of edited by Chickering Carter. And they were all written by Nicholas Carter, which was of course the house pseudonym for the dozens of writers, crafting out these fascinating stories. Well, speaking of fascinating stories, let's get on with our next entry in the Nick Carter mysteries. This one entitled the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. The call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant edited by Chickering Carter. Chapter one. A curious letter. There's no question in my mind and specter as to who did the job said, Nick Carter. You feel sure of it then? As sure as water runs downhill. I'd refer, of course, to the mechanical part of the work. I looked it over on the morning, following the burglary. Every part of the looted vault. And I am as sure of the crack man's identity as if I had seen him getting in his work. Only one yegg in the business has the mechanical genius to crack a vault as that was cracked. James Nordeck. Surely. I have seen Nordics work before, and I knew it when I see it. It is invariably stamped with his mechanical ingenuity. Jim Nortek is in a class of his own at that business. Here's his mug front and profile chief. Also his record. Have a look at them. The last came from chick Carter, the celebrated detective's senior assistant, and the remarks of both were addressed to inspector Mallory, then head of the detective force identified with the New York police department. They were discussing the recent burglary of a savings bank up in Westchester county. A crime committed about a week before. Which the remarkably skillful drilling of the vault for the use of explosives, as well as other details of the felonious work, plainly showed it to have been that of professional cracksmen. As may be inferred by the remarks that he had just made. It revealed something more to Nick Carter. The identity of one of the criminals, at least with certain characteristics of whose skillful work along such infamous lines, the detective was already familiar. Though discovered before having completed their work. The burglars had succeeded in getting away with nearly$200,000 in cash bonds and negotiable securities, but not until one of their number had been seriously wounded with the revolver of a citizen who had heard and pursued them as was evidenced by a trail of blood, to the motor car in which they escaped with their plunder. None of it had since been recovered. Negotiations with the crooks had been undertaken by the bank officials through the newspapers with a view to recovering part of the stolen funds and a liberal reward had also been offered for information leading to the discovery and arrest of the thieves. All of these endeavors, however, had proved entirely futile. The trail of the crooks had in fact been hopelessly lost. Nor was there any clue to their identity aside from the opinion expressed by Nick Carter on the day, following the crime, when he had been called upon to inspect the work of the burglars, despite the fact that he had declined to take the case in conjunction with the police and detectives already employed on it. Nick's views had been mentioned to inspector Malory, and this had occasioned his visit that morning and the discussion then in progress in the business office of the detectives Madison avenue residence, then occupied only by the three persons mentioned. Inspector Mallory took the card tendered by chick Carter with the remarks above noted. It had been taken by chick from a large cabinet of drawers containing the Bertillon signaletic cards of thousands of other crooks and it contained two photographs and the criminal record of the man then under discussion. The face that met the inspectors gaze was not a prepossessing one. It was that of a man of 50, a hard and sinister face with a low brow and narrow eyes, a hooked nose, like the beak of a bird of prey. A square jaw and thin lips drawn downward at the corners. A more evil and cruel face than one often viewed. He looks like a bad egg, indeed. Chick. Said inspector Mallory, grimly inspecting the two photographs. His looks flatter him. Chick replied. He's the worst in the business. His record corroborates you, said the inspector while he read the criminal career noted on the card. He appears to have been extraordinarily lucky, however, in alluding arrest and doing time. Lucky is right. Nick, put in. He's been peculiarly fortunate in that respect Mallory, but very unlucky in others. How so Nick? I happen to know something about the inside history of that rascal. Nick explained. I got it from one of his old pals, Darby Moore who died in Matawan less than a year ago. I knew him. Inspector Mallory said. Aside from his legitimate trade as a machinist at which Nordic is an expert. He has absolutely no head on his shoulders. Nick proceeded. He could not frame up and pull off a job of any size to say nothing of this savings bank break if his life depended on it. He can work to advantage only when guided by a capable leader. Take it from me, Mallory, this Westchester job was directed by such a man. Not by Jim Nordic. There was a much bigger man than he behind the gun. Do you know him, Nick? Questioned Mallory with sharper scrutiny. Hmm, I do not. Or do you suspect is identity? No. What do you mean by Nordics? Having been peculiarly unfortunate. Well in that he has been repeatedly cheated by his Confederates out of most of the share of the plunder. Nick explained. He's been an easy mark in that respect ever since his wife died, something like a dozen years ago. She was a shrewd English woman, but thoroughly unscrupulous who looked after his interests and handled his money. Since her death. However, though he has been known to have had a hand in numerous profitable jobs, Nordeck has been hard up most of the time. Through having been victimized by his Confederates. Exactly. He now fights shy of trusting them even. You got all this from Darby Moore. Yes. I had an interview with him on the day that he died. I know he told me the truth. Mm. Well, this card states, a Nordic has a daughter. Who's also a crook. That is correct. Do you know, her? Anything about her? I have seen her. Nick replied. I saw her less than a month ago, in fact, which is another reason why I feel sure that Nordic had a hand in this burglary. She sticks to him, eh? That's what they've never been separated. I knew the moment I saw her that Jim Nordic was in these parts and that something was likely to come off. Why didn't you track the girl to cover? It was impossible Mallory under the circumstances. Why? So. Well, she was in an elevated train going north and I was in another going south, smiled Nick. Both trains had stopped at a station and I saw her through one of the windows. I could not wish myself from one train to another. True, inspector Mallory admitted, laughing. Have you seen the girl since then? No. Um, how old is she? Well, not much over 20 said, Nick. Her name is Nancy Nordic, though. I guess she uses an alias most of the time. Mm. Yes, no doubt. Mallory dryly allowed. She looked very seedy as well as I could judge through the car window. Nick added. This savings bank break may replenish her purse, however, and put Jim Nordic in funds. If his pals don't bunko him, he ought to be well healed for some little time. Uh, unless some of your men succeed in rounding up this gang. I infer that there is no immediate prospect of it. No, I, I am sorry to say. Inspector Mallory admitted. I see that the bank directors have offered a reward of$10,000 for the recovery of the plunder. Yes. They can well afford to pay for it. And then some put in chick pointedly. I doubt that any of the gang who did that job will squeal. However, for it's smacks of crooks who keep their traps closed under any and all circumstances. If they. Stop a moment. Nick interposed. What is wanted, Joseph. The office door had been opened by Nick's man, servant, who then pause respectfully on the threshold. Detective. Vallon is here, sir. he replied. He wants to see Inspector Mallory. Vallon here. Exclaimed Mallory, surprisedly. Let him come in, Nick. I'll see what he wants. Show him in Joseph, Nick directed. He entered a moment later, a plain clothes man from police headquarters, with whom both Nick and chick shook hands cordially while he was briefly stating his mission. I've got a special delivery for you inspector. Said He. It's marked private and rush, and I reckon it might be very important. The Lieutenant said, I'd be likely to find you here. So here I am. And here's the letter. Inspector Mallory took it and glanced at the superscription. It was addressed with a lead pencil and in a somewhat course, irregular hand, which with the misspelling of several words, plainly evinced the writer's lack of education. Prominent in the lower corners of the envelope, were two words, rush and private. Huh. Mallory grunted with a puzzled expression. Mailed this morning in Harlem. I don't know the hand. I never saw one quite so scrawly. It may be important nevertheless Vallon. And as you say. Chief Mallory broke the seal while speaking then drew out the enclosed sheet of paper. A folded bank note, slipped from it and fell to the floor. By Jove chief. That's a good beginning. Said Chick laughing. I believe your story. Mallory replied, bending to pick up the bank note. Hello, 50 bucks too, and a brand new bill. I could stand a gift of this kind every day in the year. It was indeed a crisp brand new bank note for$50. Nick Carter eyed the inspector more narrowly when he opened and read the letter, noting his gradual change of expression. By thunder! Here's a curious case. Mallory exclaimed looking up. It cannot be a hoax, not with 50 semolians backing up the story. Have a look, Nick. Read it aloud. Nick took the letter and read it aloud as directed. A penciled illiterate scrawl as follows. Mr inspector Mallory, there'd be a dead man up in number 82 P street, Harlem. I want him planted. Right. But I ain't got no time to tend to it. I know you are dead square when it comes to a showdown. So I send you the coin to foot the bills with, and I asked you to tend to him. Get him a good box with a black cloth on the outside of it. And silver grips. I would ask you to get a silver plate to only, I can't tell you his moniker. I thank you beforehand, knowing you will tend to him. Please have a prayer said for him. Nick Carter read this rude scrawl indifferently at first. Then glanced at it again, more carefully. Mallory watching him, detected a sharper gleam deep down in his more serious eyes. He straightened up and inquired abruptly. What'd you think of it? It's on the level said, Nick. The woman means what she says. Woman. Questioned Mallory quickly. How do you know a woman wrote it? It isn't signed. True. And the writing looks like a man's? True again. Why do you think then that a woman wrote it? Sentiment. Said Nick tersely. It appears between the lines illiterate though they are. We very seldom find it in men of the class, in which the writer of this evidently falls. A fallen class, evidently remarked, detective Vallon. Possibly. Nick allowed. She has a high opinion of you Mallory, all the same. Very properly too. Huh. Thanks. Blurted the chief a bit gruffly. You'd better go up there and look into the case.$50 will more than foot the bills. It's quite remarkable by the way, where the writer raised that amount at. Let me see that bank note, Mallory. It looks all right. said the inspector complying. True. Said, Nick, it's not a counterfeit, but evidently it's fresh from. Yes by Jove, you had better go up there, he abruptly digressed. If you think well of it, Mallory, I'll go with you. I shall be more than pleased declared Mallory with a look of surprise. I'll have my chauffeur bring around the touring car, added Nick touching an electric button on his desk. There will be room for you chick and for Valen also, if he cares to go. I'm hooked. Vallon quickly nodded. Count me in. As the four detectives were descending the steps of Nick's residence, five minutes later, however, at which his touring car was then standing, a rapidly driven limousine approached and swerved to the curbing nearby. Nick paused instinctively then approached to meet a handsome fashionably clad young woman who had hurriedly alighted and drawn nearer. You were going away, Mr. Carter, and I am just in time. She said quietly yet in some excitement. You must postpone it. I must see you alone immediately. No, no, don't refuse. I'll not take no for an answer. I really must see you. It's a case of life or death. What is the trouble miss Farley? Nick gravely inquired, noting her paleness. I cannot tell you here, not here. She whispered. Do please give me your time. Money is no object, Mr. Carter, and. Hush. Nick turned to the men in the touring car. I must cut out the visit to Harlem, Inspector. He said significantly. Chick will go with you. however. Oh, well, you understand. Certainly Nick certainly. Inspector Mallory assured him. There is nothing involved in it. Chick will inform you later of all the facts. Uh, no apology is necessary. Let her go, Danny. Chick directed when Nick turned to rejoined the waiting woman. Number 82 P street, Harlem. Eat it up lively. Who was that mysterious woman. And why did Nick stay back? Who is the dead man that the others detectives are investigating? And what does any of it have to do with the bank robbery in Westchester? We'll find out next time when we continue the story of the call of death or Nick Carter's clever assistant. well, that's it for now. Folks, make sure to visit the podcast website where you can subscribe to the mailing list. Follow the link to our Facebook or Instagram page, or become a monthly supporter of the show. Visit www.forwardintothepastpodcast.com. Well, until next time, thanks for listening. Keep sharing the stories and be a good human Bye for now.