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This book is Nick Carter's autobiography and self-help hybrid in which he chronicles his struggles with a dysfunctional family and the unimaginable rigors of becoming an internationally successful pop-star at the age of 12. From his battle with addiction to serious health complications and the pain of his younger sister's tragic death, Nick leaves nothing to the imagination and offers true and heartfelt advice to help readers overcome obstacles in...
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Excerpt: ""The thing seems impossible!" "Yet it's true." "You mean to tell me that--" "I mean to tell you that Mrs. de Puyster van Dietrich, who retired to her room in this hotel last night at eleven o'clock, was not there this morning when her maid went to call her, and that her doors were all bolted and locked, with the keys inside." "What about the windows?" "Mrs. van Dietrich's rooms are on the fourth floor." "Well?" "She did not jump out, Mallory,...
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Excerpt: "The solitary ray of light that found its way into the dismal room seemed to shrink from entering. Silence reigned supreme within. Outside, even the stillness of the night was hardly broken. It was a ray of moonlight, as feeble through the misty air as "the glowworm's ineffectual fire." It found its way in, nevertheless, under one broken slat of a closed blind, and then it seemed to hesitate, losing life and shrinking from going farther....
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Excerpt: "Nick Carter paused only a moment before replying. He took that one moment to consider the other strange matter that had brought him to Washington, and whether compliance with the request just made by the chief of police would seriously interfere with it. He decided that it would not, and he then said quite gravely: "Why, yes, I will go with Detective Fallon, since you both press me so earnestly. It is barely possible, chief, as you say,...
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Excerpt: "A spear shot into the midst of the camp, and stuck, quivering, in the ground! Patsy Garvan and Chick jumped to their feet, rifle in hand, and looked inquiringly at Nick Carter. The detective had not moved. He was sitting with his back against a rock, a cigar in his mouth, and silently contemplating the small fire that he had consented to have made. When the spear came sailing over the bluff, at the foot of which was the little camp, he merely...
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Nick Carter read the sign over the jeweler's store on Eighth Avenue and stopped to glance critically at the place. He noticed that the "regulator" indicated midnight. His thoughts flew back to another midnight earlier in the week, when Lusker's store had been cleaned out by burglars. The robbery had been charged to a mysterious crook known as Doc Helstone, who was supposed to be the leader of a clever gang of lawbreakers. Nick had been asked to break...
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Excerpt: ""No, Carter! I shall not go back until I have got my hands on that wretched crook, William Pike, and I don't care if it leads me into the very heart of this strange country where they say a white man never has come from alive." The speaker was Jefferson Arnold, the multimillionaire shipowner and importer of Oriental goods, whose establishment was one of the best known of its kind in New York City. His firm jaw came together with a snap,...
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Excerpt: ""There goes another, chief. That makes five so far. There surely is something going on to-night," the young man at the window declared excitedly. It was Patsy Garvan, Nick Carter's second assistant, and he who was addressed was the great New York detective himself. The closest friends would have known neither of them, however, unless they had been in the secret, for both were cleverly disguised. Moreover, the room in which they seemed to...
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Excerpt: "In Thirty-fifth Street, east of Fifth Avenue, there is a house conspicuous among its neighbors in that it differs in construction by being of the variety known as the English basement style. Entrance to the house is secured through a door reached by one or two steps from the pavement. The dining-room of the house is nearly on a level with the street, while the parlors are on the second floor, reached from the lower hall by a flight of stairs....
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Excerpt: "It was a fateful moment-one to be remembered. A fateful moment in the lives and fortunes of some to whom there then came no premonition of evil, no dread of the terrible sword that hung by a hair above their heads, upon whom was cast no shadow through the glare and glitter around them, amid the gay festivities in which each played a part. It was a fateful moment, one brought only by chance to the notice of Nick Carter. It was remembered...
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Excerpt: ""Well, Chick, it's good to strike little old New York again." Nick Carter jumped down from the railroad car and shook himself like a huge dog as his feet touched the stone flagging of the Grand Central Station. "You're not more glad to see New York than New York is to see you," piped a shrill voice, and Patsy, Nick's younger assistant, darted forward to greet his chief and Chick, who were elbowing their way through the crowd on the arrival...
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Excerpt: ""Message for Mr. Carter!" The wireless operator of the steamship Marathon, in the linen clothes and pith helmet ordinarily worn by white people in the tropics, came along the steamer deck with a slip of paper in his hand and stopped in front of a row of steamer chairs under an awning. "Where's it from?" asked the occupant of one of the chairs, springing to his feet. "From shore, sir-Calcutta." Nick Carter, who was holding out his hand even...
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Excerpt: ""I feared you would not come." The speaker, a beautiful woman of two or three and thirty, half reclined on a sofa, in an elegant apartment. A gentleman, rather old, had entered the room. He was what he looked to be-one of New York's money kings. "It is for the last time, Louise," he said, toying with his watch guard. "And why for the last time?" For a second the woman appeared downcast, and then, rising to her feet, she said, pleadingly:...
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Excerpt: "Nick Carter listened without interrupting. The man addressing the famous detective was not one to be wisely interrupted. His strong face, his broad, thin-lipped mouth and square jaw, the glint of his steel-blue eyes, his portly and imposing figure-all denoted that he was the type of man that insists upon having his way, his inning at the bat, as it were, but who then would graciously accord the same privilege to another. "The danger, Mr....
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Excerpt: ""You say this burglar has got into your bedroom three times?" "Yes, Carter. Three times that I know of. He may have got in oftener for aught I know." "Hardly likely, Mr. Bentham. If you woke up three times and saw him, it indicates that there is something in his presence which affects you even in your sleep. It is a psychological influence, evidently." Professor Matthew Bentham, one of the most learned scientists in Brooklyn, shook his head....
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Excerpt: "Nick Carter waited, listening intently, listening vainly, with his desk telephone in his hand and the receiver at his ear. Chick Carter, the celebrated detective's chief assistant, sat watching him, noting each changing expression on his strong, clean-cut face, and wondering what occasioned it. It was about nine o'clock one evening in October, and both detectives were seated in the library of Nick Carter's spacious residence in Madison Avenue....
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Excerpt: "A man and a woman together; then a man alone." Nick Carter thought this remark rather than uttered it in words, as he came to an abrupt pause in his walk and looked down upon the tracks in the snow. There were no other tracks than those anywhere visible, save only his own, which he had made in his approach to the spot, and he was careful not to approach too near while he made the examination which only his curiosity suggested-for there could...
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Excerpt: ""Move on, old man, and go home!" It was the stern voice of one of New York's finest policemen that uttered these words. "Home! I wonder where it is?" muttered the old man to whom the policeman had spoken, and a shudder ran through his frame, as he slowly moved down the street. As he reached the corner near old St. John's Church, on Varick Street, he paused, rubbed his eyes and gazed dreamily around him. For some time before the policeman...
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Excerpt: ""There's no question in my mind, inspector, as to who did the job," said Nick Carter. "You feel sure of it, then?" "As sure as water runs downhill. I 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 cracksman's identity as if I had seen him getting in his work. Only one yegg in the business has the mechanical genius to crack...
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Excerpt: ""Man overboard!" Nick Carter-known to the captain and crew of the tramp steamer Cherokee as Sykes, the bos'n-heard this shout, taken up by man after man, as he lay stretched out on the foc's'le head, in the early morning, just as the ship nosed her way into San Juan harbor, on the northern coast of Porto Rico. The thrilling warning that somebody has fallen into the sea, which always sends a shock through both crew and passengers whenever...
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