The Crime of the French Café 
and Other
by Nicholas Carter 
 
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Other 
Stories, by Nicholas Carter This eBook is for the use of anyone 
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Title: The Crime of the French Café and Other Stories 
Author: Nicholas Carter 
Release Date: April 11, 2004 [EBook #11989] [Date last updated: 
January 22, 2005] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE 
FRENCH CAFE *** 
 
Produced by Steven desJardins and Distributed Proofreaders
The Crime of the French Café 
Nick Carter's Ghost Story 
The Mystery of St. Agnes' Hospital 
THREE COMPLETE STORIES OF THE EXPLOITS OF NICHOLAS 
CARTER, AMERICA'S GREATEST DETECTIVE 
 
THE CRIME OF THE FRENCH CAFÉ. 
CHAPTER I. 
PRIVATE DINING-ROOM "B." 
There is a well-known French restaurant in the "Tenderloin" district 
which provides its patrons with small but elegantly appointed private 
dining-rooms. 
The restaurant occupies a corner house; and, though its reputation is not 
strictly first-class in some respects, its cook is an artist, and its wine 
cellar as good as the best. 
It has two entrances, and the one on the side street is not well lighted at 
night. 
At half-past seven o'clock one evening Nick Carter was standing about 
fifty yards from this side door. 
The detective had shadowed a man to a house on the side street, and 
was waiting for him to come out. 
The case was a robbery of no great importance, but Nick had taken it to 
oblige a personal friend, who wished to have the business managed 
quietly. This affair would not be worth mentioning, except that it led 
Nick to one of the most peculiar and interesting criminal puzzles that 
he had ever come across in all his varied experience.
While Nick waited for his man he saw a closed carriage stop before the 
side door of the restaurant. 
Almost immediately a waiter, bare-headed and wearing his white apron, 
came hurriedly out of the side door and got into the carriage, which 
instantly moved away at a rapid rate. 
This incident struck Nick as being very peculiar. The waiter had acted 
like a man who was running away. 
As he crossed the sidewalk he glanced hastily from side to side, as if 
afraid of being seen, and perhaps stopped. 
It looked as if the waiter might have robbed one of the restaurant's 
patrons, or possibly its proprietor. If Nick had had no business on his 
hands he would have followed that carriage. 
As it happened, however, the man for whom the detective was 
watching appeared at that moment. 
Nick was obliged to follow him, but he knew that he would not have to 
go far, for Chick was waiting on Sixth avenue, and it was in that 
direction that the thief turned. 
So it happened that within ten minutes Nick was able to turn this case 
over to his famous assistant, and return to clear up the mystery of the 
queer incident which he had chanced to observe. 
Nick would not have been surprised to find the restaurant in an uproar, 
but it was as quiet as usual. He entered by the side door, ascended a 
flight of stairs, and came to a sort of office with a desk and a register. 
It was the custom of the place that guests should put down their names 
as in a hotel before being assigned to a private dining-room. 
There was nobody in sight. 
The hall led toward the front of the building, and there were three 
rooms on the side of it toward the street.
All the doors were open and the rooms were empty. Nick glanced into 
these rooms, and then turned toward the desk. As he did so he saw a 
waiter coming down the stairs from the floor above. 
This man was known by the name of Gaspard. He was the head waiter, 
and was on duty in the lower hall. 
"Ah, Gaspard," said Nick, "who's your waiter on this floor to-night?" 
Gaspard looked at Nick anxiously. He did not, of course, know who the 
detective really was, but he remembered him as one who had assisted 
the police in a case in which that house had been concerned about two 
years before. 
"Jean Corbut," replied Gaspard. "I hope nothing is wrong." 
"That remains to be seen," said Nick. "What sort of a man is this 
Corbut?" 
"A little man," answered Gaspard, "and very thin. He has long, black 
hair, and mustaches pointed like two needles." 
"Have you sent him out for anything?" 
"Oh, no; he is here." 
"Where?" 
"In one    
    
		
	
	
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