Has Nick Carter finally met his match? A new master-criminal is on the New York scene—and armed with medical knowledge, a talent for impersonation, and a brazen set of schemes that even use Nick to his advantage, he's pulled off a series of thefts that no one seems able to stop.
IT had rained in torrents all the way down from Schenectady, so when Jack Duane glimpsed the lights of what looked to be a big house through the trees, he braked his battered, convertible sedan to a stop at the side of the road. Mud lay along the fenders and running boards; mud and water had spumed up and freckled Duane’s face and hat. He pulled off the latter—it was soggy—and slapped it on the seat beside him, leaning out and squinting through the darkness and falling water. He was on the last lap of a two weeks’ journey from San Francisco, his objective being New York City. There he hoped to wangle a job as foreign correspondent from an old crony, J. J. Molloy, now editor of the New York Globe. Adventurer, journalist, globetrotter, Duane was of the type that is always on the move. “It’s a place, anyway, Moses,” he said to the large black man beside him, his servitor and bodyguard, who had accompanied him everywhere for the past three years. “Somebody lives there; they ought to have some gas.” “Yasah,” said Moses, staring past Duane’s shoulder, “it’s a funny-looking place, suh.” Duane agreed. Considering that they were seventy miles from New York, in the foothills of the Catskills, with woods all around them and the rain pouring down, the thing they saw through the trees, some three hundred yards from the country road, was indeed peculiar. It looked more like a couple of Pullman cars coupled together and lighted, than like a farmer’s dwelling. “Fenced in, too,” said Duane, pointing to the high steel fence that bordered the road, separating them from the object of their vision. “And look there—” A fitful flash of lightning in the east, illuminating the distant treetops, showed up the towering steel and network of a high-voltage electric line’s tower. The roving journalist muttered something to express his puzzlement, and got out of the car. Moses followed him. “Well,” said Duane presently, when they had stared a moment longer, “whatever it is, I’m barging in. We’ve got to have some gas or we’ll never make New York tonight.” MOSES agreed. The two men started across the road—the big Negro hatless and wearing a slicker—the reporter in a belted trench coat, his brown felt hat pulled out of shape on his head. “It’s a big thing,” Duane said as he and Moses halted at the fence and peered through. Distantly, he could see now that the mysterious structure in the woods was at least a hundred yards long, flat-topped and black as coal except from narrow shafts of light that came from its windows. “And look at the light coming out of the roof.” That was, indeed, the most peculiar feature of this place they had discovered. From a section of the roof near the center, as though through a skylight, a great white light came out, illuminating the slanting rain and the bending trees.
Mr. Garside shook his head. He was a tall, slender man of forty, and was the junior partner of the firm of Rufus Venner & Co., a large retail jewelry house in New York City, with a handsome store on Fifth Avenue, not far from Madison Square.
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Rick and Janet saw the For Sale by Owner sign purely by chance. They had no idea that by showing interest in the property they would be involved in murder, fraud, attempted murder and strange happenings that could not be explained.The home was just what they were looking for, an ocean view, the right number of bedrooms and bathrooms and so on. When they pulled up to the front of the house, they encounter a man they presume is the owner, he appears to occupy the house with his daughter, or so he says.The house sale proceedings become stranger by the minute especially when the State Police and the Coast Guard show up at the attorney's office during the paperwork signing. They inform the group that the homeowner and his daughter are feared dead and that they have ended their search.Strange things begin to manifest themselves that pull Rick, Janet and their neighbor Adam into the search for the missing father and daughter. The home owners' brother pushes for the sale to move quickly to a conclusion causing the group to wonder why?The sound of the horn coming from the small sailboat stopped the two coast guard seamen as they loaded their gear on the inflatable. Both men stared at the small boat laying on its side on the stony harbor, their minds told them it was not possible. And yet, they both heard it...
Sammy is a squirrel an adventurous squirrel his friends would say, often mischievous and daring and always curious. Sammy was easily bored and today was no exception, but this day was about to become exciting and a little scary too. Sammy had recently found a piece of wood in the swamp, a flat piece of wood with a nail sticking out at one end. Ever since his discovery he had dreamed up all sorts of ideas for the piece of wood. His favorite idea was to push it out into the swamp and sail around on it playing a pirate or an intrepid adventurer seeking out new worlds.Sammy's best friend was Scrappytail or Scrappy for short. Scrappy was enjoying a sleep in on a nice sunny morning when Sammy came bounding along a branch and jumped up on the side of his nest. After some convincing Sammy persuades Scrappy to go with him to the swamp to find the piece of wood. Once they successfully launch the wood, the adventure begins. Their sailing ship gets out of control and carries them off towards some scary rapids, and even more scary areas beyond the swamp.Follow Sammy and Scrappy as they go sailing in this first story about Sammy the squirrel and his big adventures.
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