Nick Carter Detective Library, No. 1 | Page 2

for a time found many supporters, was that Delia
Dent had been in league with the murderer; had admitted him to the
house, and had allowed him quietly to depart after the deed was done.
But that theory was also abandoned, as being even more absurd than
the others that had been advanced. Delia was conscious to the last,
during her sickness, at the hospital, and just before her death she
devised all her savings-a sum amounting to nearly ten thousand
dollars-to her lawyer, in trust for the person who should succeed in

bringing the murderer of Eugenie La Verde to justice. The house in
Forty-seventh street, where Eugenie had been killed, was, at the time,
occupied solely by herself and the maid Delia, and the basement was
never used by them at all. Once a month the man who examined the
gas-meter came to attend to his duty, and upon such occasions he
passed through the basement hall on his way to the cellar. But when his
work was done, Delia always locked and chained the door which
communicated between the basement and the parlor floor, and it was
never again disturbed until the same necessity arose during the
following month.
Eugenie never dined at home, and her maid never left her. Her
breakfast, which consisted only of coffee and a roll, was always
prepared by the maid over an alcoholic lamp in the room where
Eugenie slept.
After the discovery of the crime, a careful examination was made of
every window and door in the house which communicated by any
possibility with the outside world.
All were found securely locked, and every door was provided with the
additional security afforded by a chain.
Even the scuttle had an intricate padlock:
Nothing had been molested.
Window-fastenings, door-locks, chain-bolts, scuttle and sky-light were
alike undisturbed.
From the circumstances of the case as they were discovered after the
commission of the crime, it was absolutely impossible for the murderer
to have gained access to the house without leaving some evidence of
the fact. Again, supposing the assassin to have been already concealed
therein, it was equally impossible that he could have gotten out without
furnishing some clew.
Delia Dent, as has been said, had fainted when she discovered the dead

body of her young mistress. Upon reviving, she had staggered to a
messenger call in the hallway, having barely strength to ring for the
police. Then, still half-fainting, she had managed to reach the foot of
the stairs, but had not yet unchained the front door when her call was
answered. She believed that she fainted twice, or that site was in a state
of semi-consciousness during the interval that elapsed between the
discovery of the crime and the arrival of the police.
The more thorough the investigation, the deeper grew the mystery.
Old and tried detectives were put upon the case. At first they looked
wise and assured everybody of the speedy apprehension of the fiend
who had committed the deed. Then they became puzzled, and finally
utterly confounded. The bravest of them at last confessed that they
were no nearer the truth than at the beginning, and one of them, the
shrewdest of all, boldly stated that the only way in which the assassin
would ever be discovered would be by his voluntary confession, which
was not likely to ensue.
Thus matters drifted on until the public mind found other things to
think of. The papers at first devoted pages to the event; then a few
columns. In a week, one column sufficed. Finally the reports dwindled
down to a single comment, and then to nothing, and the mysterious
murder was practically relegated to history and forgotten.
There was one, however, who had not forgotten it, and that one was the
Inspector in Chief, at Police Headquarters.
Every resource at his command had been exhausted. His best men had
taken the case in hand and failed. He had personally given all the time
he could spare from his other duties to the murder of Eugenie La Verde,
and was yet as greatly mystified as ever. There was no palpable or
reasonable solution to the problem.
Her jewels, of great value, were found untouched upon the
dressing-case. A roll of bills amounting to several hundred dollars was
in the top drawer, where it had evidently been carelessly thrown by the
murdered girl that very night.

The murderer had doubtless approached stealthily, giving her no
warning. He had seized her in his vise-like grip, choked her to death,
and left her as stealthily as he had come. Her body was undefiled by
bruises, contusions, or other marks, showing that he had given his
attention solely to the work of killing. It was even evident that he had
not sought to put a stop to