“He’ll die for it if he has swiped them,” almost shouted Lannigan, wild
in his anger.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Elwell. “You may think yourself a bad man, Lannigan;
but you had better keep out of the way of Nick Carter. If he has tracked
that case here and got possession of the things within it, the next
thing will be that he’ll have the handcuffs on you. He fears no mortal
man and he has captured single-handed half a dozen men, each one worse
than you. But I don’t think Nick Carter has got those papers.”

“Why?”

“Let me ask you first, whether when you last saw these, they were all in
this case and the case locked?”

“Yes; every blessed paper and the models as well.”

“Well, then, if Nick Carter had entered the room in search of that case
and had found it, he would not have stopped to take the things out and
substitute papers in their place, but would have taken out of the house
the case and all.”

“That’s sense,” said Seaman.

“Let me ask you another question,” said Elwell. “Did any one besides
Seaman and myself know that you had this case and its contents?”

“No--stop--yes--hold on! It’s not quite that way. There are two men who
thought we had it. They thought we had cracked that crib in Thirty-fifth
Street and, that being so, they knew that we had the case. But we never
let on to them that we did the job. They only thought so.”

“Who are those men?” asked Elwell.

“Never you mind who they are,” said Lannigan, ferociously. “Before the
lights go out to-night, I’ll know whether they’ve got that case, or what
was in it, or I’ll have their lives.”

Again there was silence of speech, but there was a movement as if the
party had risen to their feet.

Nick slipped to the open door leading into the hall and, beckoning to
Chick, said to him when they met:

“Did you hear?”

“Plainly.”

“The drawings have disappeared.”

“Yes. There’s no use of making a raid now.”

“You’re right; get out of the house by the front way as quick as you can
and get on the watch. I’ll go down by the way I came.”

Chick slipped down the stairs and out of the front door, while Nick,
crossing the bedroom, picked the lock of the outer door again, closed
the door leading into the bedroom behind him, closed the outer door and
locked it, and slipped down the outer stairs and so into the street,
where he went into concealment to watch for the men to come out.

He did not wait long before Elwell and Seaman came down the stairs,
passed out of the door in the fence and went up the street to Third
Avenue and disappeared at the corner.

“No use to follow them,” muttered Nick, “for I can find them when I want
them.”

It was a longer wait, however, for the other two, and Nick was made
aware of their coming by a string of oaths from inside the fence which
he knew to be from Lannigan.

Straining his ears he found that Lannigan was swearing over the door at
the foot of the stairs.

He was attributing the broken door to the thieves who had robbed him,
assuming that that was the way in which they had gotten in.

To have heard him swear and talk one would have supposed that he was an
honest man and there had never been such an outrage before, or so
dishonest a thing, as that of robbing him of what he had robbed Mr.
Herron.

Nick, laughing at this, nevertheless by a long whistle gave Chick the
signal to be on the alert, as their birds were coming.

The next instant Lannigan and the unknown stepped out into the street
and hurried in the direction of Third Avenue.

Nick hung back, fearing that he was known by one or both of the two, and
signaled to Chick to take up the shadow.

Chick promptly appeared at the corner and, seeing the two men now pretty
nearly at the other end of the block, hurried along past Nick and heard
Nick say that he would follow behind him.

Thus the four went to Third Avenue, where the two men, Lannigan and the
unknown, boarded a street car.

A coach and pair stood at the corner, and Nick, calling to Chick, sprang
in after telling the driver he should have double fare if he kept the
passing car in sight.

It was a somewhat difficult matter, but when Thirty-fourth Street was
reached they were near enough for Nick to see Lannigan and the unknown
descend from the car and go down Thirty-fourth Street.

“They are going to the place Patsy told about,” said Chick.

“Then,” said Nick, “they are looking after the two Patsy calls his
assistants.”

“Spike Thomas and Bally Morris?”

“Yes. And----”

“They are the two Lannigan suspects of robbing him,” quickly put in
Chick.

“That is the only conclusion.”

All this time Nick and Chick had been rapidly following the two down
Thirty-fourth Street.

Reaching the last block they drew aside to watch the two, and saw them
searching every one of the numerous saloons on that block without
finding, apparently, what they sought for.

Having found nothing, they retraced their steps and again hurried in the
direction of Third Avenue.

As they stepped out, Nick said to Chick:

“They have not found their men here and are going to try somewhere
else.”

Then they set out to follow.

CHAPTER X.

IN CLOSE PURSUIT.

It was some time before Patsy’s patience in waiting in the saloon he
knew to be the hang-out of Spike Thomas was rewarded.

But at length Spike and Bally Morris made their appearance, and on
seeing Patsy went over to him, and said:

“I say, cull,” was Spike’s greeting, “get out of here with us to another
joint, where we can patter a bit.”

Without knowing why they wanted to go to another place, nevertheless he
got up willingly and followed them out into the street.

Spike led them to a place in Bond Street, not far from the Bowery, and
evidently one which he knew only from the outside.

“Yer see, cull,” he said, “I don’t know much about dis place, but it’s
quiet, and there’ll be no mix-up wid de rounders and de culls.”

“What are you wanting to hide for, Spike?” asked Patsy.

“Oh, there’s nothin’ doin’,” said Spike. “Only I want to talk to you
about de things you was puttin’ up to me dis morning.”

“Well, what of it?” said Patsy.

“Didn’t you say,” said Spike, “dat there was some dollars for me if I
could get something for you?”

“Yes,” replied Patsy, “that’s what I said.”

“You said it was a leather case, with somethin’ into it what you wanted;
ain’t dat right?”

“See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “what are you getting to?”

“I want to git dem dollars you was talkin’ about,” said Spike. “Dere’s
been nothin’ doin’ for me dis long time, and I’m broke. So if you give
me de right steer, I’m goin’ for dem dollars.”

“Well,” said Patsy, “all there is of it is that a leather case, with
some things in it, was taken out of that house in Thirty-fifth Street
last night. The man from whom it was taken will put up good money to
have it back.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Herron, and he lives in that house.”

“What does he do downtown?”

“Oh, he’s a broker or something in Broad Street.”

“Say, I want ter git de rights of dis,” said Spike, in a businesslike
way.

“I’m givin’ it ter you as much as I know.”

“Well, what was in de case? Money, checks? What?”

“Why,” said Patsy, “as I understand it, it was some drawings and a model
of a new invention, which is valuable.”

“Well, wasn’t his nibs tryin’ to rob the inventor of it?” asked Spike,
shrewdly.

“The inventor is dead,” said Patsy, wondering where Spike got all his
knowledge from.

“Den it was his widder?” said Spike.

“See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “what is this you’re givin’ me? What I
know is that Mr. Herron paid the widder his good money for those things,
and that they were stolen from him. Now, Spike, it was you who put it
into my head from the first that a swell cracksman from Philadelphia,
Lannigan, cracked the crib and took that case.”

“Dat’s right,” repeated Spike.

“Then you give it me that when you ran against Lannigan he wouldn’t
cough up and let you in.”

“Dat’s right,” repeated Spike.

“Now I’m goin’ to speak a little piece,” said Patsy. “Spike, you have
seen Lannigan since I saw you last, and you’ve got into the job.”

“You’re away off, Patsy,” said Spike.

“I don’t think I am,” said Patsy. “Lannigan has let you into the job,
and you’re tryin’ to pump me as to who will give up the best for that
case.”

“Oh, yer away off, Patsy,” repeated Spike; “ain’t he, Bally?”

The crook turned to the other one for confirmation of his words, which
was readily given.

“Mebbe I am,” replied Patsy, “but if it isn’t that, what is your little
game?”

“I am just tryin’ to loin a little somet’in’ to see if I can’t work dat
bloke, Lannigan, for a show at dem dollars.”

All this seemed to be very plausible on the part of Spike, and was said
with a very frank manner.

But Patsy was not deceived. He knew something had occurred since he had
last seen Spike, but just what it was he was not able to tell.

“Well, Spike,” he said, after a few moments’ thought, “it all comes back
to what I told you in the beginning. There’s one man who’ll give up more
for those papers than any one else, and to get them back I don’t think
he’ll ask any questions.”

“Dat’s de point,” said Spike. “I was wantin’ to know what kind of a hole
I was gettin’ meself into if I did get me hooks on those papers and go
talkin’ to his nibs about ’em.”

Patsy thought rapidly. He began to believe that the crook already had
the papers in his possession, or that he was in a position to obtain
them whenever he could drive a proper bargain with those who would pay
for their return.

Recalling that Ida had been told by Nick that she must try to get on
terms of good standing with Mrs. Pemberton, the widow of the inventor, a
bright idea struck him.

It was ten o’clock in the morning when Ida had received her orders from
Nick, and it was now nearly six o’clock in the evening. Such was Patsy’s
faith in Ida that he actually believed by this time Ida was installed as
a member of Mrs. Pemberton’s family.

Seeing that Spike was reluctant to go to Mr. Herron, it occurred to
Patsy that, having possession of the papers, as he believed, or knowing
how he could get possession of them, something Spike would not admit to
Patsy, Spike could be more easily persuaded to go to the widow with
them. Then if he, Patsy, were to notify Ida of the intended call, they
would be in a pretty fair position to recover the papers.

Acting on this thought, Patsy said:

“Of course, Spike, my boss is working for Herron. I am working for my
boss, so I’m workin’ for Herron, too. Now, if you can get your hooks on
that case, or what’s in it, and you don’t want to tackle Herron, why not
tackle my boss.”

“What?” cried Spike, in horror. “Tackle Nick Carter? Nit, nit, Pauline.”

“Well, then, if that don’t suit you,” said Patsy, “I’ll give you another
steer. The widder will put up for them papers, and put up big.”

“Now, you’re shouting,” said Spike. “Dat’s de lay. Now, where is she?”

“Her name is Pemberton, but you can’t get to her before ten o’clock
to-morrow morning,” said Patsy, anxious to get enough time to notify Ida
and to let her arrange for the part she was to play in the matter.

He was thoughtful a moment or two, and then he said:

“If you can work the Lannigan end, Spike,” he said, “you come to me
to-morrow morning at nine o’clock and I’ll give you the place where Mrs.
Pemberton lives; and, say, Spike, if you pull it off, you ought to do
something square with me for putting you on and giving you the straight
steer.”

“Sure,” said Spike. “Dere ain’t nothin’ in de hull shootin’ match dat I
didn’t get from youse. I’ll give yer a whack if I pulls anything off.”

Patsy now believed that he had gotten from Spike all that was possible,
and that he had laid a train in which Spike could be used which would
lead to good results, and he was anxious to get away and hunt up Nick to
report to him what he had done.

Seeking the best excuse he could, he left the two and went over to the
Bowery.

In doing so, his purpose was to take one of the uptown lines of cars and
then cross to the west side, but on reaching the corner of Bond Street,
and the Bowery, he saw some one on the opposite side of the street that
looked to him very much like the one he had seen on the corner of
Thirty-fourth Street and who the Chicago detective had told him was
Lannigan.

The distance across the Bowery at that point was long, and he hurried
across it in order to be certain that he was right.

He had so crossed the Bowery as to come up behind Lannigan, and as he
stepped up on the sidewalk a hand was laid on his shoulder.

He turned and saw Chick.

“What is it, youngster?” asked Chick.

“Are you following that man?” asked Patsy.

“Lannigan? Yes.”

“Then, it is Lannigan?” asked Patsy.

“Yes,” replied Chick. “But where are your men?”

“Over here in a saloon nearby.”

“Lannigan is looking for them,” said Chick.

“The deuce! What for?”

“To put holes in them,” laughed Chick.

“What does he want to do that for?” asked Patsy.

“He thinks they stole that case of the drawings from him,” said Chick.

“Say!” exclaimed Patsy, “where’s the chief?”

“He’s right here,” said Chick.

“Here!” said Patsy. “Show me where he is--quick!”

Seeing that Patsy was unusually earnest, Chick gave the signal, which
brought Nick into sight in an instant. As he came up Chick said:

“Patsy’s got something on his mind and wants to talk.”

“Chick, you keep your eye on Lannigan, and I’ll see what Patsy has to
say,” returned Nick.

He then turned to Patsy, asking what had excited him.

“Well,” said Patsy, “I hardly know where to begin, but I’ve been
following Spike Thomas and Bally Morris all day. I’ve been thinking that
Spike had put up a job with Lannigan to get the most money he could for
those drawings, but Chick tells me that Lannigan has been robbed of them
that he thinks Spike did it.”

“Well, Patsy,” said Nick, “tell me the whole story and we’ll see how it
fits in with what we know.”

Patsy then recited to Nick all that had occurred between himself, Spike
and Bally Morris, from the time they had met in Thirty-fourth Street up
to the time they had been traced by him to Avenue A, their brief
disappearance, the row he had had in the house in Avenue A, the
surprising appearance of the two from a direction he least expected
them, his tracing them to Spike’s home, with the subsequent interview
which he had just had with Spike in the saloon in Bond Street.

Patsy told this rapidly, but clearly, and Nick was an attentive
listener.

On his part, Nick related to Patsy all that had occurred from the time
they had parted on the corner of Forty-second Street and Third Avenue,
including, of course, the astonishing theft from Lannigan of the
contents of the leather case, concluding with the statement that Chick
and he had followed Lannigan in the belief that the cracksman was
hunting for Spike Thomas and Bally Morris.

It did not take long for these two bright-minded people to fit in the
two stories into a complete whole.

“It’s all straight as a whistle, chief,” said Patsy. “Lannigan threw
Spike down. Spike, from what he had learned from me, made up his mind
that he would rob Lannigan of that case. To get on a track of him and
know what he was doing and when he was out of his room, was what he was
laying on the corner of Forty-second Street and Third Avenue for. Just
as soon as he saw Lannigan with your men, the two of them scampered off
to Avenue A.”

Here Nick stopped Patsy to make sure by inquiry that there was no
mistake as to the locality that both had tracked their people to on
Avenue A. That being settled to the satisfaction of both as being the
same, Patsy went on:

“Between the time I saw them go into the house where I had that row, and
when I saw them coming down in such a hurry, they had got into
Lannigan’s apartments and swiped those papers. I’ll bet my stockings,
chief, that all those things are in Spike’s rooms now, down here in
Rivington Street.”

“I think that is about the size of it,” said Nick. “But that is a good
job that you have put up to send Spike with the things to Mrs.
Pemberton. Mrs. Pemberton has recently got some sense, and believes
that Elwell is trying to do her. Ida is in a position to get close to
her, and I think, after all, that is the best way to handle it.”

“Yet we might get them quicker by making a raid on Spike’s rooms,” said
Patsy.

“And we might lose them all, too. The first thing we’ve got to do,
Patsy, is to take care of Spike, for if Lannigan meets him there will be
trouble to pay, if there is not a dead Spike.”

“Then,” said Patsy, “I’d better hunt up Spike and warn him to keep out
of Lannigan’s way, although I think that’s what he’s doing now.”

He turned to cross the Bowery, but, in doing so, saw both Spike and
Bally Morris crossing diagonally toward the drinking saloon which was
Spike’s hang-out.

Without saying a word to Nick, he darted off to intercept Spike, while
Nick hurried along toward the corner.

As Nick approached the corner he saw Lannigan rush across the sidewalk
in the direction from which Spike Thomas and Bally Morris were
approaching.

Chick was in close pursuit, and Lannigan seemed to be pulling at his
pocket as if trying to draw a revolver.

Nick also sprang in pursuit, and so it was that as Spike and Bally
approached, all unconscious of the danger they were in, three from
different points were approaching to their rescue.

It was no part of Nick’s plans to have Spike put out of the way at a
time when he could be most useful to him.

As Lannigan left the sidewalk, reaching the roadway, he brought his
revolver out, being then not more than twenty feet from Spike.

But, as he lifted his revolver to fire, Chick sprang on his back, and at
the same instant Nick was beside Lannigan, seizing his revolver arm.

In the meantime, Patsy had reached the two young crooks and in the most
energetic manner had ordered them to drop.

However, the danger was over, for Lannigan was in the hands of two men,
and was a child in strength compared with either one of them.

By the time Nick had taken the revolver from Lannigan and forced him
back to the sidewalk, Spike and Bally had taken to their heels, closely
followed by Patsy.

Nick had now no doubt, as a result of the investigations of the day,
that Lannigan and the one they had came to call the Unknown were the
ones who had robbed Mr. Herron’s house, but it was not in his plans yet
to make an arrest--not, at all events, until after the papers and
drawings Nick had been retained to recover were in their hands. Nor was
it in his plans to let Lannigan know that he had been interfered with by
Nick Carter, if he did not then know it. So he said:

“You must be a fool, to try and shoot a man in daylight like this. You
want to thank your stars that there was somebody here to stop you. Now,
get away quick, before a policeman comes, or you’ll be nipped as it is.”

Lannigan looked at him with a malignant glance, but, making no reply,
turned and walked up the Bowery.

Nick signaled Chick not to lose sight of him, and he himself went off to
find Ida and post her as to the part she was to play when Spike opened
up his negotiations with the widow for the return of the precious
drawings.

CHAPTER XI.

A CHIMNEY CLEW.

Patsy followed Spike Thomas and Bally Morris in their mad run from the
vengeance of Lannigan.

His purpose was not so much to protect them as it was to get an
explanation of a matter which puzzled him.

He was now convinced that Spike Thomas and his companion had entered the
apartments of Lannigan and had stolen the drawings and models.

But what puzzled him was when it was done.

The two had been under his eyes almost continuously all day, and it
vexed him to think that it should have been done without his even
suspecting it.

He soon caught up with the flying crooks and followed them into a small
saloon in the neighborhood of Chatham Square.

Both Spike and Morris had been badly frightened by the attack made on
them by Lannigan, but when they realized that they were safe from
pursuit, and that Lannigan’s murderous assault had been prevented by
Nick Carter and his aids, their courage returned.

Their cunning, as well as their desire to profit by their theft, led
them to conceal or deny the theft.

In view of the fact that Lannigan had made a vicious attack upon them,
they could no longer maintain the story they had given Patsy that they
had entered into an arrangement with Lannigan by which they could
negotiate the return of the papers for him.

This troubled Spike somewhat in his talk with Patsy, but, by some
skillful lying, he got up a story that somebody had been fooling
Lannigan with the tale that he and Morris were going to sell him out.

His cunning and, perhaps, fear of Lannigan, led him to deny the theft
from Lannigan’s rooms.

“See here, Spike,” said Patsy, “you may lie as much as you want to, but
I know that you got into Lannigan’s rooms and took those papers and
models. I know when you did it, and I saw you coming away from there.”

Both the young crooks looked at Patsy curiously, but without replying.

They did not know how much Patsy really knew, and they had convinced
themselves that they had made the entry into Lannigan’s rooms unknown to
any one but themselves.

“Now,” continued Patsy, “you can keep up your lying if it will do you
any good. You ain’t level with me when you don’t give me the game, after
me putting you on. I’m going to know all about it, and you can’t stop
me. The only thing is now, are you goin’ to throw me on the deal or
not.”

“Goin’ to throw nothin’,” said Spike. “Say, how much do you t’ink I
ought to strike de old dame for, if I can make de deal?”

Patsy could hardly restrain a smile, for in this question Spike was
admitting what he had been denying, and that was the possession of the
drawings and models. He did not appear to notice it, however, and
replied:

“Strike her for twelve thousand dollars.”

“Gee whiz!” exclaimed both Spike and Bally in a breath.

When they had recovered a little from their astonishment, Spike asked:

“Will de old dame stand a strike of such big figures?”

“Sure,” replied Patsy.

In view of the fact that Lannigan had struck Seaman for fifty-five
thousand dollars, as Nick had told Patsy, the surprise of the two young
crooks over the sum named by Patsy showed clearly to the lad that there
was no relation at all existing between Spike and Lannigan, if he had
needed such a showing.

However, he got up, saying:

“You’re going to work the racket on the dame to-morrow?”

“Sure,” replied Spike.

“Then you’ll come to me for the number and street of her house at nine
to-morrow morning?”

“Sure.”

Patsy did not like the tone and the manner of the crook, and he stood
still a moment, looking sternly into the eyes of Spike, and said:

“Spike, if you round on me, I’ll spoil your game. I’ll do more; I’ll put
you in the jug. You have got no right to throw me down, for I put you
next in this game, and I saved your life this afternoon. If you throw me
down it’ll be the worst day’s work you ever did for yourself.”

He turned from the table at which the two crooks were sitting, and
walked out of the saloon without another word or turning to see the
effects of his words.

Patsy was intent on filling up the gap in the story of the day, which
was complete and connected except as to the taking of the drawings and
the models from Lannigan’s rooms.

That this had been done by Spike Thomas and Bally Morris there was no
doubt in the minds of any one having knowledge of the affair. But, after
all, it was, at best, suspicion.

Leaving the saloon in which the two young crooks had hidden themselves
from Lannigan, Patsy took the elevated railroad train to Forty-second
Street.

Leaving the train here, he went immediately to Avenue A, and to the
block where he had had his “row,” as he called it.

His intention was, if possible, to find or to account for the
disappearance of the two crooks from the house into which he had
followed them.

It was his good fortune that, as he passed the door of that house, that
he should see in the doorway the girl whose alarm had been the cause of
the row in the house.

She recognized him as quickly, and stepped forward to greet him.

“Say,” she said, “was them two fellows that you trotted after this
afternoon, when you was chinnin’ with me, the two you followed into our
house?”

“Yes,” said Patsy. “It gave me the jumps when I saw ’em coming down from
the corner when I thought they were in the house yet.”

“Are dey crooks?” asked the girl.

“That’s what they are,” replied Patsy.

“Well, say,” said the girl, “I can give you a steer. Dem fellers was
upstairs on de floor above us when we had dat scrap in de hall. But dey
climbed de ladder to de roof when de scrap was goin’ on and got away.”

“How do you know that?” asked Patsy, eagerly.

“Me little sister, who was up dere on dat floor, seen ’em do it. She
tole me just after you run away so sudden.”

The whole thing then burst upon Patsy. Everything was explained to him.
The two crooks, taking advantage of the row going on on the floor below,
had climbed to the roof, and, making their way over the other houses to
the corner, had descended into the apartments of Lannigan through the
scuttle of the corner house.

What had been mysterious to him was now as plain as day.

He looked along of the houses on the street, to see that there was no
break in them to the corner, and said:

“Do you know the store on the corner?”

“The saloon? Sure.”

“You ever go in there?”

“Sometimes,” said the girl.

“If you’ll go there with me now, I’ll blow you off.”

The girl without a word turned, and the two walked up to the corner and
entered the place by the rear door.

“Say,” said Patsy, “that brother of yours will be wanting to put up
another fight if he finds me here with you again.”

The girl laughed merrily, and replied:

“Oh, he’s a great chewer, but there’s more in his bark than there is in
his bite. He ain’t around now, for he’s trotting after his own rag.
Anyhow, after the way you put him on de floor dis afternoon, he won’t
want to chew wid you any more.”

It was clear that Patsy’s compliments of the afternoon had won the
girl’s favor, and the manner in which he had defended himself when
attacked, her admiration.

This Patsy saw, and he determined to take advantage of it.

“Say,” he said, “do you know the people here?”

“Yep; he’s a nice man what keeps dis place.”

“Is he straight?”

“Straight as a die.”

“Then this isn’t a hang-out for crooks?” asked Patsy.

“Naw. He won’t have dem around. Dere’s lots of dem on dese corners, but
he won’t have dem here.”

Patsy was silent a moment as he thought over a plan which had entered
his head. Then he said:

“Call him here and tell him who I am. I want to ask him something.”

The girl did so, and the proprietor, a rather rough-looking but honest
man, came to him.

“Mike,” said the girl, “this is me frien’, Patsy Murphy.”

“Not Nick Carter’s man?” said the one called Mike, extending his hand.

“De same,” said the girl, proudly.

The man looked doubtfully between the two and asked:

“How’d you get in wid him, den?”

“Oh, we got acquainted dis afternoon,” replied the girl, tossing her
head.

“I heard something about it,” said the saloon-keeper; “will yer have a
drink?”

“No,” said Patsy, “but I wish you would answer me some questions. Do you
know that there was a robbery in this house this afternoon?”

“I heard something about it,” said the saloon-keeper, “but I don’t know
anything about it.”

“There was,” said Patsy, “and from the floor above.”

“I heard a little about it,” said the man, “but I’ve nothing to do with
the people upstairs.”

“Then you don’t have the whole house?” asked Patsy.

“No, I only rent this store.”

“Do you know anything about the man who lives upstairs--the one who was
robbed?”

“No; he never comes in here, and he rented the two floors above from the
same man I rent this store. He’s only been here about six weeks or two
months.”

“Well,” said Patsy, “I think I know pretty well who did the job. I think
I know how they got into the house.”

“Oh, that’s clear enough,” said the saloon man. “They broke in that
stairway door in the rear and picked the lock of the upper door.”

“I don’t think so,” replied Patsy; “in fact, I know they didn’t break
the door in, for I know how that was done. But, I would like to get up
to the top part of this house to see if I can find traces of the way I
think they did get in.”

“How was that?”

“Through that scuttle,” said Patsy.

“There’s nothin’ to stop your goin’ up there,” said the man. “There
ain’t nobody up there now, for the two men livin’ there are out. If you
should go out of that door opening into the hall, nobody would shoot you
for doing it.”

Patsy got up and said:

“I’ll try it.”

“And I’ll go with you,” said the man.

“And so will I,” said the girl.

Thus followed, Patsy mounted the stairs to the top floor and, reaching
the hall on the top of the house, soon found the scuttle-hole in the
roof.

But there were no steps or ladder leading to it.

Looking about, he saw a broken wooden chair in the corner and, bringing
it into the light, saw that the fracture of the top of the back was a
fresh one. The scuttle-hole was close to the wall and, looking at the
wall directly under it, he saw marks on it which indicated that the
chair had been placed against the wall and used as a means of reaching
the scuttle.

He put the chair at that place and saw that the chair and the marks
fitted.

Mounting the chair, he found that the scuttle cover was loose, and had
not been precisely fitted when it was put on.

A mere pressure of the hand slid the scuttle aside and, making a spring,
he caught the upper edges of the scuttle-hole with his hands and drew
himself so that his head was above the roof.

Immediately his attention was attracted to a piece of paper clinging to
the chimney nearby.

He clambered through the hole and, going to the chimney, found that it
was a small piece of that kind of paper known as tracing paper, used by
draftsmen.

On it was a drawing of what was apparently machinery.

He jumped to the conclusion that it was a part of the missing drawings
that had been searched for all day.

Thrusting it in his pocket, he returned to the scuttle-hole and let
himself drop down to the floor as he had supposed Spike and Bally had
done.

Remounting the chair he placed the scuttle cover in position again and
put the chair back where he had found it.

Turning to the two who had been silently waiting, he said:

“I’m satisfied. That’s the way those fellows got into the house. They
went into the house in which this girl lived, got out on to the roof
from the scuttle of that house, crossed over and came down this way.
They did not go down that way, but went out to the street down the
stairs and through the front door.”

“You’re right,” cried the saloon man. “That accounts for the bolts being
off the front door.”

Patsy smiled, but made no reply, yet he thought that the bolts were off
because Chick had taken them off when he went out of the house.

The little party returned to the barroom and, after Patsy had spent a
little time in making himself agreeable to the girl, whose friendliness
had given him the clew to the manner in which the two young crooks had
gotten into the house, he went away.

CHAPTER XII.

ON THE SEARCH.

While Patsy was on this search, Chick had been following Lannigan, whose
movements about the city seemed to be marked by neither purpose nor
intention.

Nevertheless, Chick kept close at his heels.

Nick had found Ida, and from her had learned that she had had another
talk with Mrs. Pemberton, and had convinced her that Elwell, the lawyer,
whom she had trusted so much, was playing her false.

The principal thing to bring her into that frame of mind was the belief
that he had taken the $10,000 check which Mr. Herron had given her from
the drawings and models of her husband, with the intention of cheating
her out of it.

She was now quite certain that she had done wrong, and was willing to
carry out the intentions of her husband and deal with Mr. Herron, as the
unsigned articles of agreement provided.

Nick had sought Ida with a view of preparing her for the visit of Spike
the next morning.

He had intended to let Ida arrange with Mrs. Pemberton for this, and
meant that Ida should, as Mrs. Pemberton, receive Spike.

This was in accordance with the job that Patsy had put up. And finding
that Mrs. Pemberton had changed her position entirely in regard to Mr.
Herron, he proposed to Ida that he should go with her to Mrs. Pemberton
at once, and tell her all that had occurred during the day, and thus
show to her the kind of people into whose hands she had fallen.

This was done, and Mrs. Pemberton, under the showing of Nick, saw
clearly that her only hope of receiving any profit from her late
husband’s work was first in the recovery of the papers of Mr. Herron,
and secondly through Mr. Herron.

Becoming convinced of this, she was not only willing but eager to assist
in carrying out the plans which Patsy had formed and which had been
approved and adopted by Nick.

So it was arranged that when Spike called, Ida, made up for, and
pretending to be, Mrs. Pemberton, should receive and dicker with Spike.

That there should be no hitch in this programme, Ida remained in Mrs.
Pemberton’s house over night.

It was Nick’s purpose to be in the house also in the morning so that if,
as a consequence of those negotiations, Spike brought the drawings, he
could seize them.

The matter being thus arranged, Nick returned to his home.

The next morning, before Patsy was fairly dressed, Spike Thomas,
followed by Bally Morris, burst into his room in a state of wild
excitement and rage.

A glance of Patsy’s was sufficient to assure him that both Spike and
Bally were more than half drunk.

They were so excited that for a moment neither could speak, but stood
gasping in an effort. Finally Spike blurted out:

“We’ve been robbed.”

Patsy turned sharply on him and said:

“Not of the drawings and models?”

“Yes, de same!”

Patsy’s disappointment was great, but, checking himself, he said, with
forced calmness:

“Tell me all about it.”

It was not so easy for the two crooks, and they began such a mixture of
oaths, assertions and contradictions of each other that Patsy was forced
to stop them; and, telling Morris to be quiet and not say a word,
instructed Spike to tell the tale.

Under his statement, it appeared that, being afraid of Lannigan, they
had kept away all night, not alone from their usual haunts, but from
their homes. They had spent the night in obscure, and, to them, strange
places, drinking.

When daylight had come, and they thought it safe to venture into the
part of the city where they lived, they had gone to Spike’s rooms to get
the drawings and models here hidden away, with the intention of carrying
them to a place where they could easily get them if the bargaining with
Mrs. Pemberton turned out as Patsy had assured them it would.

But, on reaching that room, the drawings and models were not in the
place where they had been deposited.

They had made a most exhaustive search of the room without a discovery
or a trace of them, and, having roused up everybody in the house, had
pushed their inquiries without receiving any information as to the
disappearance of the drawings.

But they had learned that one of the tenants in the house, at a late
hour in the previous night, had seen two men enter Spike Thomas’ rooms,
supposing one of them to be Spike Thomas.

As neither Spike Thomas nor Bally Morris had been near the rooms during
the night, the conclusion was that somebody had entered for the purpose
of stealing those drawings and models, and had obtained them.

That was the whole story, although it was garnished with oaths and
guesses and charges.

Patsy at once formed an idea as to who those thieves were, but he made
no remark to Bally Morris or Spike.

Sending them away, with instructions to hold themselves in readiness to
obey any call that he might make on them, he hurriedly finished his
dressing and went to the room of Chick, who had quarters in the same
house.

Rapping on Chick’s door, he received, however, no response.

The door was locked, and, as Chick was a light sleeper, Patsy felt that
Chick was not within his room. In his own room there was a key to
Chick’s, as there was in Chick’s a key to his, that each might enter the
other’s room when necessity required.

Obtaining that key and entering the room, Patsy saw at a glance that
Chick had not occupied it during the night.

“Holy smoke!” he said aloud, to himself, “I don’t like the looks of
this. I must tell the chief.”

Dashing downstairs into the street, Patsy went to a drug store where
there was a telephone that he frequently used, and obtained
communication with Nick at his home.

Telling his chief what had occurred, the third theft of the papers, he
also said that Chick had not returned to his room during the night.

“Chief,” said Patsy, over the wire, “I’m going to try and pick up track
of Chick.”

“Where?” asked Nick.

“I shall strike Rivington and the Bowery first, then Thirty-fourth
Street, and then Forty-second Street.”

“Right,” replied Nick. “Stay about the Bowery and Rivington until I get
over there. I shall come over at once.”

Patsy hurried over to the Bowery, and sought the corner of Rivington
Street, where the first thing that attracted his attention was a red
chalk mark on the pavement.

Many feet had passed over the mark since it had been made, and it
required close observation to discover its meaning.

Finally, Patsy determined that it had been made the evening before, and
that it was a notice to himself and the chief that Chick was on the
shadow, and going up the Bowery.

He crossed to the upper side of the street, and there found another
mark, so dim, however, that he could not tell what its meaning was, but
the indication seemed to be still pointing up the Bowery.

He went to the next corner, and there found another mark. This was
plainer, and still indicated that Chick was going up the Bowery.

“These are last night’s marks,” said Patsy to himself. “If he has kept
it up all night, we must get to him in time.”

He pursued his inquiries up the Bowery as far as the old armory, and
there, seeing that the marks still tended to the north, returned to
Rivington Street to meet the chief.

Arriving on that corner, he found Nick awaiting him.

It did not take the two long to exchange the additional information that
had been gained by each since they had parted.

“You have been right from the beginning in this matter, Patsy,” said
Nick.

“The two men who stole those papers from Lannigan’s room were Spike
Thomas and Bally Morris. They carried them to Spike’s rooms and hid them
away there. Still, I yet think we followed the proper course.”

“But the question now is,” said Patsy, “who has got the papers now, and
who were the third thieves?”

“Who does Spike think were the thieves?” asked Nick.

“He thinks they are two young toughs who live in the same house, and
who saw them stowing away these things.”

“Do you believe that?” said Nick.

“Not hardly,” said Patsy, emphatically.

“Neither do I,” replied Nick, quietly. “But our business now is to find
Chick and learn what he has been doing all night.”

Patsy laughed as he looked up at Nick, saying:

“I think that’s the straight road to the papers.”

The two now hurried up the Bowery to its end to pick up the trail Chick
had left behind him.

Arriving at the last mark Patsy had observed, they soon discovered that
the next one led them up Third Avenue, and, following them, which grew
plainer as they proceeded, they were carried to Thirty-fourth Street,
where the marks indicated that Chick had passed to the east.

But as they turned to go down that street, Patsy dashed across the
street to look at something tied to the rail of the steps leading to the
elevated railroad station.

It was a string of yellow cotton cloth.

Carefully examining the pavement, he ran up and down a short distance,
like a dog getting the scent, and then, stepping to the curbstone,
vigorously beckoned to Nick to come to him.

“Chick has been down Thirty-fourth Street,” he said, “and back again to
go up Third Avenue. A sign on the elevated railroad station rail gives
us the tip.”

Nick nodded, and the two hurried up Third Avenue.

“This trail will lead us to Forty-second Street, chief,” said Patsy, as
they hurried along.

But he had hardly gotten the words out of his mouth when they struck a
mark on the sidewalk that sent them down the side street to the east.

It was a change of direction for which neither was prepared.

They did not expect to see any other mark until they reached the corner
below, but in the center of the block they came on another which
indicated a stop, and a little farther on another sign showing that the
chase had been continued.

Looking about, they found that they were directly in front of a livery
stable.

One of the stablemen threw open the great doors as they looked.
Instantly Nick sprang inside, closely followed by Patsy, and went to a
carriage standing on the floor, travel stained, the wheels covered with
dust and mud.

On the hind axle was loosely tied a bit of yellow cotton cloth, to which
he directed Patsy’s attention.

Turning to the man who had followed them, Nick said:

“That carriage has been out nearly all night?”

“Well, is it any business of yours?” replied the stableman, in a surly
tone.

“Answer my question,” sternly demanded Nick.

“Didn’t know that you asked the question,” replied the man.

“Has that carriage been out over night?” asked Nick, in a calm, icy
voice.

The man was overawed, and replied that it had been out all night, not
getting back until after daylight.

“Did you drive the coach?” asked Nick.

“No; the man who drove it has just gone to lie down.”

“Go call him.”

“What for?”

“Because I tell you. I’m Nick Carter.”

The man started on hearing this, and went to the rear of the floor,
where a man was lying on some carriage cushions which he had piled up in
the corner.

Nick and Patsy had followed, and Nick said to the man:

“Don’t get up, but answer a few questions of mine. You had a party out
last night. How many were there of that party?”

“Two.”

“What did they look like?”

The man laughed, and replied:

“Hard to tell. They changed their looks two or three times.”

“Where did they go?”

“One man came here first and hired the coach,” said the man, “and he was
a black-haired, black-eyed man. Then he drove up to Forty-second Street
and Avenue A, where he took in another man. Then they drove down to the
Bowery and into Fourth Street, where they left the coach and told me to
wait for them. They staked me to wait until they came back.

“It was near daylight when the second one came to me and, getting in the
coach, went down to the corner of Rivington Street.

“Waiting there ten minutes, the first one came up running, jumped into
his coach with something in his hands, and told me to drive like the
devil up Fourth Avenue.

“When we got as far as Twenty-third Street, they stopped me, gave me a
twenty-dollar bill, and went off down Twenty-third Street to Third
Avenue.

“I drove home.”

“Were you followed by anybody?”

“Yes,” replied the man, with a look of surprise. “There was a coach that
stuck close to us all night.”

“Did the men you were riding know it?”

“No,” replied the man. “A fellow came out of the other coach when I was
in Fourth Street and told me he’d break my head if I let the other
fellows know that he was following--and he meant it, too.”

Patsy laughed.

“It wasn’t anything to laugh about,” said the man. “If you’d seen him,
you wouldn’t have laughed.”

Nick was satisfied the man had nothing more to tell, and he turned away,
followed by Patsy, to whom he said, as he walked across the floor of the
carriage-room:

“Chick tied that cloth on the axle in a chance that we might run up
against it during the night.”

“No doubt of that,” said Patsy. “Where now?”

“To Twenty-third Street and Fourth Avenue,” replied Nick. “Chick has
been on the track of these people, whoever they are, and it’s dollars to
cents that when they left their coach at Twenty-third Street, he left
his, in pursuit.”

Nick and Patsy hurried to the point indicated, and, as Nick had
foreseen, they found on the corner one of the red chalk marks that gave
them the direction.

The signs were fresh, easily seen, showing that they had been made
within a recent time.

The signs led them over a crooked way, in which there were many stops,
nearly all being in front of liquor stores, but finally ended in Avenue
A, on the block below that on which Patsy had twice been in the
twenty-four hours previously.

Here the signs ended, nor were there any indications of anything but a
stop.

“Surely,” said Nick, “after giving us such a good trail for so many
hours, Chick can’t have thrown it up at a late hour.”

“Unless,” said Patsy, “something has happened to him.”

He suddenly darted forward, and bent down to look on the sidewalk near
the curb. He picked something up and looked at it, and then ran along a
few steps, looking in the curb or gutter.

Nick followed after him, and when he reached him, Patsy said:

“Here’s the trail. Little pieces of this yellow cloth. Chick was on the
sneak here, and not in the open.”

Hurriedly, they followed this new trail, and it led them to the middle
of the block on which was the house in which Patsy had his “row,” as he
called it.

Indeed, when they came to a stop, they were almost opposite the door of
that house.

Here, carefully placed against the bottom of a lamppost, was a ball of
yellow cloth, about the size of a baseball.

“The end of the trail,” said Patsy.

“And Chick is somewhere about,” added Nick.

“I’ll give a signal that Chick will know if he’s here,” said Patsy.
“Hide yourself.”

Nick went into a neighboring doorway, and Patsy, slipping into the
street, got between two covered wagons that stood there, backed up to
the curb, without horses in front of them.

Suddenly there sounded on the air the sharp, yelping bark of a
frightened dog, ending in a prolonged howl.

Patsy slipped back to the pavement and to the cover of some boxes that
were piled nearby.

The two waited but a moment, when Chick came down the street, looking in
every direction.

Nick gave a low signal, and Chick darted into the hallway where Nick
was, Patsy quickly joining him.

CHAPTER XIII.

A DESPERATE STRUGGLE.

“I have been following Lannigan and the unknown all night,” said Chick.

“What have they been doing?” asked Nick.

“Something that they have regarded as important, but what I am not
certain.”

He rapidly told his experiences of the night, the important feature of
which, to Nick, was Lannigan’s visit to Rivington Street, and his
entrance to a house there with the unknown, his long stay, and, finally,
the hurried departure of the unknown and his running up to Fourth Street
for the coach, which was brought down to Rivington Street.

It was there that Chick had sneaked up behind it and tied the yellow
cloth to the hind axle, on the chance that Patsy or Nick, or both, might
see it, and know that it was one followed by Chick.

He had hardly done this when Lannigan hurried up to the Bowery with
something in his arms and under his coat, jumped into the coach, and was
driven rapidly away.

After that it seemed to be merely an effort to get back to Lannigan’s
apartments in Avenue A in a way that could not be tracked.

Patsy, by questions, soon settled that the house which Lannigan had
entered was the tenement house in which Spike had his rooms, and said so
positively.

“Then,” said Nick, “it is settled. Lannigan entered that house to steal
from Spike Thomas what Spike Thomas in the afternoon stole from
Lannigan.”

The two then told to Chick that which had been learned from Spike Thomas
and Bally Morris, and together the two stories made a complete one.

“Are you satisfied,” asked Nick, “that Lannigan carried those drawings
and the model to his rooms?”

“Yes,” said Chick. “Now, with what you tell me, I know that they are in
Lannigan’s rooms at this moment. What has bothered me all night, and why
I clung to him so, giving you the trail, was that I knew he was up to
some game that was important, but I couldn’t tell what. You see, I never
knew that Lannigan suspected Spike Thomas of that theft, nor that you
did. You sent me off on the trail of Lannigan before I had learned that.
I was beginning to fear you would not pick up my trail, and when I heard
Patsy’s signal, was going to chance a rush into Lannigan’s rooms.”

“We’ll make the rush now,” said Nick.

“Where is the unknown?” asked Patsy.

Chick laughed.

“He’s lying under the stairs, at the rear of that house on the corner,
bound and gagged.”

“Why?” asked Patsy and Nick together.

“You see, it’s like this,” said Chick, laughing. “After I had tracked
them to that corner and saw them both go into the house, I sneaked into
that back yard, and was going to try the stairs, when I struck the
unknown coming down. It was him or me right on the jump. I was afraid he
would give the alarm, and I gave him the garrote so that he couldn’t
holler. I went through him to see if he had anything we wanted, and,
finding nothing, I tied him up and put a gag on him and threw him under
the stairs, where he couldn’t make any trouble for a while.”

“Come on, boys,” said Nick. “We’ve got no time to lose.”

The three detectives hurried to the corner, and entered the barroom,
stopping only long enough for Nick to say to the barkeeper:

“I am Nick Carter. These are my two aids, Chick and Patsy. We’re going
upstairs, and if you give so much as a whistle of alarm, it will be all
day with you. Do nothing, say nothing, and stay right here.”

The three then rapidly passed through the door into the hall, and so
upstairs to the second floor. Here Nick said:

“Go to that front door in the hall. When I whistle, break it in. Patsy,
follow me.”

Chick did as he was directed, and Nick, followed by Patsy, went to that
door which led from the hall into the bedroom.

Together both placed their shoulders to the door, and, exerting their
united strength, burst it open with a crash.

They sprang into the room, with a loud whistle from Nick, and had hardly
landed on their feet when they heard the crash of the door burst in by
Chick.

Lannigan was in bed, and he sprang up into a sitting position with an
oath.

He seemed to take in the situation instantly, for he reached under his
pillow with both hands, and drew forth two revolvers, both of which he
leveled at the two intruders, discharging them at once.

The balls went wide of the mark, doing no damage to either Nick or
Patsy.

Lannigan immediately sprang out of bed to his feet in another effort,
but as he raised his arms to level his revolvers again, Chick burst
through the door leading into the front room, and, springing forward,
struck Lannigan on the head with the butt end of his revolver.

He did not prevent Lannigan from discharging his revolvers again, but he
did prevent him from taking true aim, and thus, for a second time, the
balls went wide of the mark.

Chick attempted to take the revolvers from Lannigan, and succeeded in
wrenching one from him.

The other one, however, Lannigan was desperately endeavoring to use, and
this time on Chick.

The bed was between Chick and Lannigan on the one side and Nick and
Patsy on the other.

Patsy sprang on the bed to cross it to go to Chick’s assistance, while
Nick attempted to pass around the foot of the bed.

Grappled by one, with two approaching him from different directions,
Lannigan, for a brief instant, seemed to hesitate on which he should use
his revolver.

The hesitation was fatal to him, for, as a matter of fact, in his doubt
he aimed nowhere, discharging it between Nick and Patsy.

The next moment Patsy had seized his arm that held the revolver, and,
with a quick wrench, he took it from his hand.

Without weapons, Lannigan made even then a desperate effort at a fight.

He was a powerful man, with muscles like steel, wiry and active. But he
was not a match in strength or skill for even Chick, and when Patsy’s
strength was added, he was as a child between them.

The two threw him over on the bed, where they held him down.

“You’d better give up,” said Nick. “You’re done, and you can’t make any
fight. You’ve lost the game. It’s all up with you.”

“Who are you?” panted Lannigan. “What do you want?”

“Those drawings and the model that you stole from Mr. Herron’s house
night before last, which were stolen from you by Spike Thomas yesterday
afternoon, and which you stole from Spike Thomas this morning.”

Lannigan stared at Nick, leaning carelessly over the foot of the bed,
and breathed rather than said:

“You must be Nick Carter.”

“You’re quite right, Lannigan,” replied Nick, with a smile. “Where are
those papers?”

“They’re not here,” replied Lannigan, “and you’re vastly mistaken if you
think I will tell you where they are.”

“Roll him over, Chick,” said Patsy.

The two rolled Lannigan over to the other side of the bed, and Patsy,
thrusting his hand under the sheet, pulled out a flat bundle of papers
he had felt when they had thrown Lannigan on the bed.

He handed them over to Nick, who laughed as he said:

“Here they are.”

But Lannigan swore like a trooper.

Nick looked them over carefully, comparing them with the list Mr. Herron
had given him, and said:

“The drawings are all here except one.”

“And here is that one,” said Patsy, taking it from his pocket. “I found
it on the roof of this house yesterday afternoon.”

Nick took it, remarking that it made the set complete, and added:

“Now for the model.”

He began a search of the rooms, and finally, turning to the two, who
were holding Lannigan, said:

“Handcuff that man and tie his ankles, while we search for that model.”

This was done, and the three began an exhaustive search of the rooms,
which ended in finding the model, badly broken, in a pasteboard hatbox
in the bottom of a closet, covered with clothes.

“I think this can be patched up by a skillful man,” said Nick, after
examining the model. “At all events, we have got all that we started out
to get. Now, then, loose that man’s feet and we will take him around to
the station house and lodge a complaint against him.”

By this time Lannigan seemed to realize that the game was up, as far as
he was concerned, and he tamely submitted.

“Chick,” said Nick, when they were on the sidewalk, “you’d better get
your man that you laid away on the stairway.”

Chick, followed by Patsy, went to get the unknown, but on arriving there
found that he was no longer there.

Whether he had succeeded in getting loose from his bonds and gags, or
whether some one had found him there and had released him, could not be
told.

He was gone, and, so far as Nick Carter and his aids were concerned, he
was never seen in New York again.

The three detectives then went to Mr. Herron’s house and delivered to
him the drawing and the model.

That same day both Seaman and Elwell were arrested for complicity in the
burglary. They easily obtained bail, and when the trial came off escaped
punishment for the want of sufficient evidence to connect them directly
with the crime.

The jewelry and silver plate taken by Lannigan and the unknown, who
remains unknown to this day, were recovered from the fence in Hunter’s
Point, which was searched on Patsy’s suggestion. So that Mr. Herron’s
loss in the end was little or nothing.

Ida was not compelled to play the part set for her, but Mrs. Pemberton
allied herself to Mr. Herron’s interest on receiving another check for
$10,000, the payment of the one Elwell had stolen being stopped at the
bank.

Since that time, she has taken out the patents which secured to herself
and Mr. Herron the control of the important invention, and a company has
been organized, with Mr. Herron at the head, to put it into execution.

CHAPTER XIV.

A MYSTERIOUS WARNING.

As for Lannigan, the swell cracksman of Philadelphia, Nick had conceived
an idea that there was real worth in the man, despite his bad record.

He had a long talk with him, in which he pointed out that a trial could
not but result in imprisonment.

“I am absolutely sure,” Nick declared, “that if I brought you into
court, you would spend the next half a dozen years in jail. There is no
reason why I should let you go free, except that I believe you could be
a wonderfully brilliant man and a good citizen if you liked. I am going
to give you that chance. You are free to go--no, no, don’t make any
protestations. Get out of here as quick as you like and become an honest
man. Let me warn you, however, that if I ever catch you engaged in any
crooked work again, I will see that your due punishment is meted out.
Now go.”

The man slunk away with a hunted expression in his eyes.

Little did Nick guess that within a very little while he would be on the
track of Lannigan again.

He was sitting at breakfast one morning, when the first mail arrived,
bringing with it the following singular letter, unsigned:

     “‘You are a friend of Sanborn. I’ll give you a tip. His daughter is
     to be married. The presents will be many and of value, and, on the
     day of the wedding, the house will be raided. A word to you is
     sufficient.’”

Nick carefully read the letter, even studied it, and the paper on which
it was written. But he gained nothing from such examination.

A close inspection of the envelope showed that it had been deposited in
the general post office before six o’clock on the previous evening.

While the letter did not specify which Sanborn it was, and while a
hundred of that name, perhaps, were to be found in the directory, Nick
had no doubt that Harmon Sanborn was the one meant.

Harmon Sanborn was a very rich man, worth many millions, and in very
active business life. The relations between this multi-millionaire and
the famous detective were close, having been begun several years before
when Nick was retained to trace a peculiar defalcation occurring in one
of the many business enterprises of Sanborn.

Nick knew that Mr. Sanborn had more than one daughter unmarried, but he
had not heard that the wedding of one was about to take place, as his
anonymous letter indicated.

Chick was sitting nearby, wondering whether Lannigan would ever cross
his path again, and inwardly chafing because of his chief’s generosity
in not pressing charges against the fellow.

He was aroused from his reverie by Nick’s asking:

“Chick, you know Harmon Sanborn, of course. Have you heard that one of
his daughters is to be married?”

“Why, yes,” replied Chick. “There’s been a great deal in the newspapers
about it.”

“Which daughter is it?”

“The eldest.”

“Whom is she to marry?”

“A young Englishman who has been in this country for some years, and who
is said to be related to some of the noble families on the other side.”

“Has there been much said about presents?”

“Yes; half the millionaires of the country are giving diamonds and
emeralds and what not to the bride.”

Nick handed the anonymous note that had reached him in that morning’s
mail to Chick, asking:

“What’s your idea about that, Chick?”

Chick read the note carefully, and said:

“No name. It’s queer. I hardly know what to say about it. Yet, I think
I’d act on it.”

“As a matter of prudence?” asked Nick. “When does this wedding take
place?”

“At noon to-day.”

Nick looked at his watch.

“It is nine now,” he said. “There is plenty of time to take measures, if
such are necessary. I wonder where Sanborn is at this time?”

“At his house, probably, on such a day,” replied Chick.

“Probably.”

Nick went to the telephone, and, calling up Mr. Sanborn at his home
address, finally got into communication with him.

Asking Mr. Sanborn whether he would remain at his home for a short time,
he received the answer that the millionaire would remain at his house
until noon, when he would leave it only to go to the church to be
present at the marriage ceremony of his daughter.

Nick told him that he had a matter of some possible interest to Mr.
Sanborn, of which he could not speak over the wire, but that he would
call upon him at once.

Asking Chick to accompany him, the famous detective immediately set out
for the palatial residence of the rich man, which fronted on Central
Park.

Reaching the house, the two detectives were immediately taken to a room
on the first floor, which Mr. Sanborn used as his working room when at
home.

“I don’t know,” said Nick to the millionaire, “but that I am bringing a
mare’s nest to you. This came to me in the morning’s mail. I know no
more than that.”

He passed the letter he had received to Mr. Sanborn.

That gentleman, after reading it carefully, laid it down, saying:

“Well, it tells some truths. That I’m a friend of yours, Mr. Carter, is
one truth, and the other is, that the presents are many and, in the
main, pretty valuable. My little girl has been greatly favored by my
friends and associates in business. What is your opinion about it?”

“It seems to be a note of warning,” replied Nick, “and I suppose
prudence suggests that you should take measures, at all events, to
protect the presents.”

“Well,” said the millionaire, “these newspapers have been advertising
the number and kind of presents in the most annoying manner. Those who
would do such a thing as steal them have had all the knowledge they
could want of them reading those papers. And there is this thing, a very
great number of invitations for the reception, after the wedding in the
church, have been issued. I presume the house will be thronged this very
afternoon, even overcrowded.”

“Under such circumstances,” said Chick, “it would be easy for swell
crooks to push their way into the house. Many of the best, who do this
kind of work, are women who can make a front, so far as dress goes, with
the best ladies in the land.”

“What arrangements have you made, Mr. Sanborn?” asked Chick, “to guard
your house during this pressure?”

Mr. Sanborn looked up, a little surprised, and said:

“I must confess that I have made none. Indeed, I gave it no thought.”

He laughed a little as he continued:

“All this is new business to me, and I have done nothing but blunder in
it from the start. I can run a railroad, two or three of them, perhaps,
but a wedding seems to be a little too much for me.”

The two detectives laughed not a little over this confession, and Nick
said:

“It is not too late for you to make arrangements yet, Mr. Sanborn, and
you should do so without delay.”

“Yes,” put in Chick, “don’t make any mistake about thinking that the
gang don’t know of this wedding and the valuable presents. Nor to the
other thing, that you have made no provision to protect them.”

“Do you mean,” asked Mr. Sanborn, “that thieves would know that I have
not done so?”

“Sure,” said Chick.

Nick nodded his head emphatically in support of his assistant’s
statement.

Mr. Sanborn was visibly annoyed and perplexed. Finally, he turned
sharply to Nick and said:

“I say, why can’t you take charge of this thing and do what is proper.”

Nick smiled a little as he replied:

“We could do so, but it is hardly in our line. This work, as a rule, is
done by the officers of the Central Detective Office. What surprises me
is that they have waited there for you to ask them. Usually, on such
occasions, they come to ask what provisions you desire to have made.”

Mr. Sanborn frowned and looked rather grave. Then he replied:

“I could give you the reason why they have not done so, Mr. Carter, if I
thought it wise to do so. While it is not in your line, is it too much
to ask you to take charge for me to-day?”

“It is not too much for you to ask, Mr. Sanborn, in view of our
friendship and relations, though it might be for others. Under all the
circumstances, if you desire us to do so, we will take charge to-day
and carry the thing through.”

“Do so,” replied Mr. Sanborn, his face lighting up, “and you will lift a
heavy load off my shoulders.”

“Then,” said Nick, “we will begin without delay.”

He went to the telephone that was in Mr. Sanborn’s room, and, calling up
Patsy, told him to dress himself as if he were going to a fashionable
morning wedding, and to report as soon as he could to Mr. Sanborn’s
house, where he would find either Chick or himself, or both, to explain
matters to him.

He then sought Ida, and, getting her, told her the same thing as he had
told Patsy.

Turning from the telephone, Nick said to Chick:

“I think, Chick, you had better go and rig yourself for this thing. Put
yourself in your best shape, for you will have to mix with the guests as
one of them.”

Chick went away, replying that he would return within an hour.

He had not been away more than five minutes, when a card was brought to
Mr. Sanborn with the word that the caller had come from the Chief of the
Detective Bureau.

“A little late, perhaps,” said Mr. Sanborn, “but they are here with
their offer of protection.”

He was about to turn to the servant and tell him that all provision had
been made, and that the services of the Detective Bureau would not be
required, when Nick stopped him.

“Wait one moment, Mr. Sanborn,” said Nick. “Let that man come in here
and let’s have a look at him. The tricks of these fellows are many and
shrewd.”

Mr. Sanborn was again about to instruct the servant to that end, when
Nick stopped him a second time.

“Don’t be so hasty,” said Nick. “I don’t want you to offend the
Detective Bureau, if the call is a straight one. And, if it is not a
straight one, I don’t want the fellow calling to recognize me. Where can
I conceal myself and yet see him and what is going on?”

Mr. Sanborn went to a corner of the room, and, drawing out a large and
costly screen, placed it so that one window was concealed by it.

“I have this screen so that I can throw up the window and get the fresh
air without its blowing on me. You can sit behind that and be perfectly
concealed, hearing everything, and for seeing, why, you can cut a hole
through it.”

“Rather a valuable thing to cut a hole into,” said Nick, as he looked
behind it.

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Mr. Sanborn. “I fancy if I were to try hard
I could buy another.”

“Now, then,” said Nick, “listen to what this man has to say, and if you
hear three taps behind this screen, that I shall make by rapping my
penknife on the back of the chair, you say to the caller that you will
be very glad to have the Detective Bureau send three men in plain
clothes.”

Nick looked around the room, and seeing that he could step out through
the window into another room, said:

“But if you hear me whistle a bar or two of any tune, in the next room,
say positively that all provision has been made and the services of the
bureau will not be required.”

Nick now placed himself behind the screen, and a moment later the man
who had presented his card was brought into the room by the servant.

He told his story to the millionaire glibly, and had hardly finished it
when some one in the adjoining room whistled the tune of a popular air.

Whereupon Mr. Sanborn very sharply said that the bureau’s services were
not required, and he imagined that none of his guests were going to rob
him on such an occasion.

The man calling tried to persuade Mr. Sanborn that he was running a
great danger, but Mr. Sanborn would have nothing of it, and cut the
interview short rather arrogantly:

There was nothing for the man to do but to leave, and so he went out of
the house.

Nick returned to the room, saying:

“I supposed,” he said, “that I would recognize any one the Detective
Bureau might be likely to send to you. But what I did recognize at a
glance was that this man, who has just left us, is one of the most
dexterous crooks, who works in large cities. He is a Philadelphia man,
and I am sure he is the one who conducted those robberies at the great
receptions last winter in Washington.”

“Then,” said Mr. Sanborn, “you believe your note of this morning was a
good warning?”

“I must,” replied Nick, “under the circumstances, and I will be prepared
to meet any effort made to-day.”

Mr. Sanborn, after producing a box of cigars, said to Nick:

“I must go and prepare for this affair. I shall leave you here to do as
you see fit. If you desire to see me at any time, call a servant and
send for me.”

He went out of the room. Nick took up a book and sat himself down to
await the arrival of his assistants.

The first to arrive was Patsy, who, on appearing at the door, was at
once taken to the room where Nick was waiting.

As he entered, Nick looked up in genuine surprise. Patsy had made the
effort of his life, and would have been taken, in the care and
correctness of his dress, for one of the fashionable swells of the city.

“You do me proud,” said Nick. “I was going to do something of that
myself, but, after looking at you, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to get
to that perfection.”

“Oh,” replied Patsy, a little embarrassed under his chief’s teasing, “I
guess I know how to get myself up to do credit to my chief. I’m only
obeying orders, though.”

“As you always do, Patsy,” replied Nick. “You’ve obeyed orders to the
very letter.”

Nick now got up, and, taking his hat, said:

“I’m going away to try to rival your elegance. Now, Patsy, I leave you
in charge, and you must keep a good watch over the house. Already an
effort has been made by Lannigan----”

“What, is that man at work again?” cried Patsy. “I thought you had
frightened him off.”

“I thought so, too, but you know a leopard can’t change his spots.
Lannigan is supposed to have made an attempt to get into the house, but
failed, and escaped before he could be captured again. I fancy he is
again employed by somebody who knows his ability as a cracksman; so if
you spot Lannigan, keep close to him and see where the trail leads.”

He then told Patsy in detail what had already passed, and added a word
of warning that, if the Detective Bureau did send a straight person
there, Mr. Sanborn was not to be allowed to offend them by driving them
off.

As Nick was about to leave the house, Chick and Ida arrived in quick
succession, and he stopped long enough to instruct them and post them in
their proper places.

He went down the steps, walking toward the corner. There he saw Lannigan
at a distance talking with another, who, leaving Lannigan, jumped into a
cab and was driven away rapidly.

Lannigan turned in another direction and disappeared, despite Nick’s
efforts to keep him in sight.

“Where have I seen that man who was with Lannigan? His face is familiar,
but I can’t place him.”

Dismissing the matter for the time, however, he hurried home to prepare
himself to figure as one of Mr. Sanborn’s guests at the wedding.

CHAPTER XV.

A MISSING BRIDEGROOM.

When Nick returned to the house of Mr. Sanborn, it had already taken on
a festive air.

The decorators had completed their labor and the florists had, at last,
taken themselves off.

It was not long after Nick had returned that the bridal party set out
for the church.

Within a few minutes three men made their appearance and said that they
had come from the Central Detective Office, under the instructions of
the authorities, to take charge of the house in the absence of Mr.
Sanborn and his family.

Nick was called to the door by the servant. Listening to the story of
the man presenting himself, he said:

“You are not of the detective force. Get away from here, and, if you
make another attempt to enter, I will take you in.”

The men, evidently astonished, hurried away with such haste as to show
that their reception was unexpected.

After they had gone Nick said to Chick:

“That is the second attempt that has been made to enter the house, the
same means being used, the pretense that they are police detectives.”

“They will make another attempt,” said Chick.

“Yes,” replied Nick, “but it will be in a different way. They will
hardly try the same thing again.”

“They seem to be pretty determined,” replied Chick.

“The haul is a big one, if they can make it,” replied Nick. “We must
post Patsy at this door, and I will instruct the servants, on no
account, to allow any one to pass the doors until the return of the
wedding party, unless one of us is called.”

“There is a good deal of going in and out of the basement door in the
rear of the house,” said Chick. “I fancy that I had better post myself
down there for the present.”

“It is a good plan,” said Nick. “Where are the presents displayed?”

“On the second floor in a rear room,” replied Chick. “Finding that out,
while you were gone, I put Ida in that room to maintain a close watch.”

“It could not have been better,” replied Nick.

Thus they waited, but not for long, before there was another diversion.

A florist wagon drove up rapidly to the door with two men in it. Hardly
had they stopped and gotten down from it, than a third man rushed up in
great haste.

Throwing open the rear doors of the wagon, the three took out a variety
of flowers and ascended to the top of the steps, ringing the bell
hurriedly.

The doorman threw open the door, and one man, rushing through, with his
arms full of flowers, said:

“These are for the rear room on the second floor. Come along, men. Bring
those other flowers quick.”

Patsy stepped forward and said:

“What is this?”

“We are very late, we know,” replied the man, “but Mr. Sanborn did not
order these flowers until this morning.”

“Mr. Sanborn never ordered them,” cried Patsy.

“Do you know all that Mr. Sanborn does,” replied the man, rather
indignantly.

In the meantime, the other two men had pushed forward and the three now
tried to go by Patsy.

“Stand back,” said Patsy. “You can’t go by here. Now get out.”

“We’re goin’ to do what we were paid to do,” said the leader, “and you
mustn’t stop us.”

Nick, upstairs, hearing the altercation, hurried forward. He was about
halfway down the stairs when he saw Patsy catch the leader by the throat
with both hands, and pushing him against the others, shove all of them,
with their flowers, out through the door.

“Take ’em in,” cried Nick. “That’s the third attempt they’ve made.”

One of the men whom Patsy had shoved out, hearing the voice within,
turned and caught a glimpse of Nick, who had reached the door by this
time. He dropped the flowers on the stoop, running down hastily, at the
same time crying out:

“It’s Nick Carter!”

With this, the other two dropped their flowers, and, jumping for the
wagon, clambered into it, to be driven away in hot haste.

“That is the third attempt, Patsy,” said Nick. “I don’t think they will
attempt it again. If there is another attempt, it will not be until
after the house is filled up with guests.”

Nick was right, for no other efforts were made during the time the
bridal party was away.

It was after one o’clock before the bride and bridegroom, with the
guests bidden to the wedding breakfast, returned to the house. And it
was fully two hours later before the guests to the reception began to
arrive.

While keeping close watch on all those who entered, Nick Carter and his
aids, nevertheless, kept themselves out of sight as much as possible.

Nick had taken for his own post the hallway on the second floor leading
to the room where the presents were.

A room in the front of the house on that floor had been set apart for
the use of the groom, and, after the breakfast was over and the
reception was about to take place, the groom, whose name Nick had
learned was Mr. Norman Ellison, entered that room for a short time.
Coming from it, he met Nick, face to face, at the door.

There was something strangely familiar to Nick in the face of the groom.
For a moment it occurred to him that it was some other person than Mr.
Ellison. With the recognition, recollections of London were presented to
the mind of Nick.

On the part of Ellison, on meeting Nick Carter, there was an
unmistakable start and an expression of surprise on his face.

The young man regained possession of himself, however, instantly, and
advancing with a pleasant manner to Nick, extended his hand, saying:

“The celebrated Mr. Carter, I presume.”

Nick bowed, making no reply.

“I was a little astonished at seeing you here, until I recollected that
Mr. Sanborn told me that he had secured your services this morning.”

He laughed a little and went on:

“All these things seem to be necessary at modern weddings. Mrs. Ellison
tells me that her father forgot all about making the provision until
this morning.”

This was all so true that Nick laughed with the groom, and answered that
Mr. Sanborn had even neglected to take the proper precautions until
after he, Nick Carter, had warned him that an attempt would be made to
steal the jewels, of which he, Nick Carter, had had intimation.

The groom looked keenly into the eyes of Carter as he said these things,
but merely remarked:

“That is serious.”

Then hastily saying:

“But I must not linger here and keep the bride waiting,” he ran down the
stairs.

Nick turned away, his mind busy with recollections of London. The face
of the young man, Ellison, was familiar to him.

It was one of Nick’s characteristics that he never forgot a face that he
had once regarded earnestly. In fact, his memory in this respect was
actually an embarrassment to him, for in his travels in many parts of
the world he had met faces that had attracted him, or, under
circumstances, had impressed them on his mind which were by no means
associated with his business. Something of this he expressed in the
words he muttered to himself:

“This habit of suspicion is all very well, but I am letting it run away
with me. Because I have seen this young fellow’s face before is no
reason why I should suspect him of anything.”

He walked off toward the room over which Ida was on guard.

In the meantime, Ellison had descended the stairs, and, at the foot of
it was met by a servant, who stopped him, speaking in a low tone of
voice.

This was observed by Patsy, who, standing near the doorman, asked what
servant it was, since he had not seen him before.

The reply was that it was Mr. Ellison’s own servant, his valet.

Whatever was communicated by this servant to the young man, at least it
gave no little concern to him.

He knitted his brows, bit his lip and looked down on the floor in
thought for a moment.

Then he said to the servant:

“Take him into some room where I can see him alone. I will excuse myself
to the bride for a moment or two.”

The two turned away, the servant to run downstairs into the basement,
and the young man to push his way through the hall to a rear room on the
first floor.

All this time the guests were arriving in increasing numbers for the
reception, but the bride and groom, however, had not yet taken their
places in the great parlor, where Mr. and Mrs. Sanborn were already in
place.

Patsy, watching, saw the servant of Ellison come up the stairs from the
basement, leading a man who was carrying his hat with him, and who wore
a long cape overcoat.

This man was ushered by the valet into a small room at the extreme end
of the hall. Then the servant returned to the bridegroom.

Together, the two entered this small room, as Patsy could very well see.

Only a moment or two elapsed before the stranger, who had called on the
bridegroom at such an inopportune time, came out of the room,
accompanied by the valet, who led him downstairs into the basement
again, and, of course, out of sight.

Something occurring at the door attracted Patsy’s attention for a
moment, so that he did not see Mr. Ellison emerge from that room.

The house was gradually becoming filled, and the ways of the stairs and
the hall much crowded.

By and by Patsy became conscious that something extraordinary had
occurred. In a few moments he saw Nick Carter hurriedly descend the
stairs and push his way through the hall into the parlor.

While wondering what had occurred, he saw Chick push his way through the
hall toward him. Reaching him, Chick bent over and said:

“The work has begun, Patsy. Get into that room, the third down on the
right.”

“They haven’t nipped some of those jewels, have they?” asked Patsy,
eagerly.

“Oh, no,” said Chick, moving off, “it’s worse than that.”

Patsy threaded his way through the throng, and entered the room spoken
of by Chick.

There he found the bride in hysterics, being cared for by her
bridesmaids and an elderly woman, whom he recognized to be Mrs. Sanborn.

Nick was already there in close conversation with Mr. Sanborn, and, a
moment later, Chick entered.

Patsy looked around for some explanation of the singular scene, but
could find none.

Presently Nick beckoned him, and, as he approached, said:

“Perhaps Patsy can tell us something. Mr. Sanborn, this is one of my
valued aids, Patsy Murphy.”

Mr. Sanborn, extending his hand, took that of Patsy’s, and the young
detective felt that it was trembling with agitation.

“Patsy,” said Nick, “the bridegroom has mysteriously disappeared. The
house has been searched and he cannot be found. Did you see him pass out
of the door you were guarding?”

“No,” replied Patsy, “he did not pass out of that door.”

“Nor did he go out through the door that Chick was guarding,” said Nick.

“Say,” said Patsy, “who made the search of the house?”

“Some of Mr. Sanborn’s people,” replied Nick, “and a nephew of Mr.
Sanborn.”

“Say, chief,” said Patsy, “I saw something. Where is Mr. Ellison’s
valet?”

“What was it you saw?” asked Nick.

“I saw Mr. Ellison come down the stairs. His valet met him at the bottom
of the steps and whispered something to him. Then Mr. Ellison told him
to take a man into a room where he could see him alone, while he himself
came into this room to excuse himself to the bride.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Sanborn, “that’s what he did, saying that he would not
delay the bride but a minute.”

“Then,” said Patsy, “I saw the valet come to the door of this room for
him and take him to meet the stranger.”

“A stranger?” said Nick, sharply.

“Anyhow,” said Patsy, “he didn’t look like a guest, for he wasn’t rigged
for it, and he had on a long cape coat. But, anyhow, it wasn’t a minute
after they went in before the man in the big cape coat came out and was
taken downstairs by the valet.”

“Did you see Mr. Ellison come out of that room?” asked Nick.

“No,” replied Patsy, “I did not.”

Chick, who had been standing within hearing, now said:

“I saw such a man go out of the door below.”

“Mr. Ellison said,” put in Mr. Sanborn, “when he came into this room to
ask my daughter to wait a moment, that he was called to a matter of
immense personal importance.”

Mrs. Sanborn at this moment called her husband to her, and Patsy, taking
the arm of Nick, asked:

“What is it all about?”

“Mr. Ellison, the bridegroom, has singularly disappeared,” said Nick,
“or is missing.”

“Do they think he has skipped?” asked Patsy.

“They do not say so,” replied Nick. “But it looks that way to me.”

“But,” put in Chick, “nobody saw him leave the house, and it is believed
he is stowed away somewhere in it.”

“Well, look here,” said Patsy. “I’ve got a pointer. Look for the feller
the valet brought in. And look for the valet himself.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Nick.

“Well, I’ve only just tumbled now,” said Patsy, “but when that big cape
coat went out of the house, it didn’t have the same man inside of it
that it had when it came in.”

“You mean?” asked Nick.

“I mean that Mr. Ellison went out of the house in that big cape coat. I
recollect now thinking how much bigger the man appeared going out than
when he came in.”

“Good boy, Patsy,” said Nick. “You’ve answered one question right away.”

Turning to Chick, he said:

“Now, Chick, go through the house and make a thorough search for the
valet.”

He stopped a moment, and then said to Patsy:

“Patsy, go into that room where you saw the man taken and see what you
see there. Anyhow, look for the man that stayed behind.”

The two assistants dashed out of the room and began their respective
duties.

It soon became apparent to Chick that the valet of Mr. Ellison had
disappeared with his master.

As for Patsy, on entering the room, the first thing that attracted his
attention was an open window.

Going to the window and looking out, he saw that it would not have been
very much of a drop for a man to let himself out of it.

Leaning out he saw that there was a gate in the fence that led to the
cross street, for Mr. Sanborn’s house was on the corner.

He heard a voice, and, looking up, saw a man at the open window of a
house fronting on the cross street, but which looked out upon the yard
in the rear of Mr. Sanborn’s house.

The person opposite was a very young man, not more than a boy. He asked
if Patsy were looking for anybody.

“Yes,” replied Patsy, “I am. Have you seen him?”

“I saw a man drop out of that window,” said the young lad, “and go out
of the gate into the street.”

“What sort of a looking man was he?” asked Patsy.

“He wasn’t a very big man,” replied the lad, “but he had black whiskers
all around his face and long black hair.”

“That’s my man,” replied Patsy. “Was anybody with him?”

“I didn’t see anybody,” replied the lad; “he went into the street
through that door in the fence. He had no hat on. Did he steal
anything?”

“Great Scot, no!” said Patsy. “His skipping was only a joke.”

Patsy left the window, for he had found out all he could hope to learn.

It was clear to him that Mr. Ellison had taken the man’s coat and hat
and left the house, his valet being in the scheme.

Mr. Ellison once out of the house safely, the man who had come to see
him had taken his chances for escaping in a bolder and more dangerous
manner.

He went back to Nick and reported what he had learned.

“There is no doubt that you have hit the very way in which it was done,”
replied Nick. “Chick reports that the valet has made his disappearance
as well. The question is now, why have these two men fled? There is a
great mystery here somewhere.”

The assurance that the bridegroom had deliberately fled the house,
within an hour after he had been married, and immediately after the
wedding breakfast, at which he had made a speech expressing his
happiness in securing so lovely a partner for life, by no means
contributed to the peace of mind of the bride.

She fainted away on hearing it, and remained so long in a state of
unconsciousness that the doctor was summoned to attend her.

In the meantime, the guests who crowded the house were wondering over
the extraordinary delay.

Rumors were flying, the chief of which was that the bride had been taken
violently ill. The nephew of Mr. Sanborn, a young man of the same name,
and who alone of the family seemed to keep his head, took advantage of
the rumor and of the fact of the calling of the physician to make it the
excuse for dismissing the guests from the house.

It was not so easily done, but, in the course of an hour, all the
strangers were gotten away, leaving only Nick and his assistants there.

On the first intimation that Ida received that the bride was ill, and
the guests were being dismissed, she cleared the room wherein the
presents were displayed, and, locking the door, sat there to guard the
presents.

Once the house was cleared, Mr. Sanborn pulled himself together and said
to Nick Carter:

“This is a most mysterious affair. I am much humiliated over the action
of the man to whom I had given my daughter. But I am willing to suspend
my judgment until such time as I find whether or not he is really guilty
of wrong. I place this case in your hands and I ask you to unravel the
mystery, and spare no expense in doing so.”

“The case shall be taken up immediately,” replied Nick. “Now, as the
first thing, I wish to call your attention to the fact that one of my
assistants is guarding that treasure above, and I want her relieved at
once. Is there no place here in which they can be placed in safety.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Sanborn, “there are safes here in which the valuables
may be placed.”

Nick and his assistants superintended the transfer of the jewels from
the room to the safe pointed out by Mr. Sanborn, and, having done so,
Nick said to the millionaire:

“Roughly estimating, I should say that at least there is a million of
value in those jewels and that plate. Your safes are not a sufficient
guard for so much value. Let me urge you to take immediate measures
toward a better care of them.”

With this Nick went away with Chick, Patsy and Ida for a consultation as
to the best means of proceeding to unravel as strange and peculiar a
mystery as they had met with in a long time.

CHAPTER XVI.

MR. ELLISON’S PAST.

Nick and his assistants had returned to Nick’s apartments, which were
not far distant from Mr. Sanborn’s house.

There, settling themselves down to look over the new case on which they
were engaged, the first thing that they were confronted with was a want
of knowledge as to the antecedents of Norman Ellison, who had so
mysteriously disappeared.

“Although Mr. Sanborn,” said Nick, “confided this thing to our hands
immediately, it was no time, when he was so agitated and so anxious over
the condition of his daughter, to ask him the questions which
immediately leaped into my mind. But, what is apparent is, that we
cannot even make a place of beginning until we know more about this man,
Norman Ellison.”

He got up and paced up and down his room for a while, and finally,
stopping at the table, he said:

“His face haunts me. I have seen it somewhere before. Where, I cannot
determine. But it is associated with London, and, not only with London,
but with the Criterion restaurant, in Piccadilly. But it is all so vague
that I can fix nothing.”

“Well,” said Chick, “Ellison is an Englishman and a Londoner. The
Criterion is one of the chief restaurants of London, and its bar a great
gathering place for the young bloods at night.”

“Yes,” replied Nick, “and I have been there many times. It was there
that I caught Commerville, who had run to England after that big forgery
of his. But I have seen, perhaps, a thousand faces in that place, first
and last, and why should Ellison’s face stick out more prominently than
any of the others, if there was nothing wrong in it?”

Further conversation on this head was stopped by the coming of young Mr.
Sanborn, the nephew of the millionaire.

He was immediately admitted, and told Nick that his cousin, the young
lady who had been married that day, had recovered consciousness, and,
though weak, and much agitated, was yet very desirous of seeing him.

Her father had told her that he has committed a search into the hands of
the famous detective, and had assured her that nothing that brains,
skill, energy and money could accomplish would be left undone to solve
the mystery of the disappearance of her newly-made husband. Learning
this, the young lady was anxious to have a talk with Nick Carter as soon
as she could.

To take the famous detective to her was the reason of young Mr.
Sanborn’s call.

“Mr. Carter,” said the young man, “this match between my cousin and
Ellison was a love match. At all events, it was so on the part of
Elsie.”

“Would you have us understand,” asked Nick, “that it was not so on the
part of Ellison.”

“Oh, no,” quickly responded the young man. “I did not mean to give you
that impression. I have always thought that Ellison was very keen about
this matter from the first time that he met Elsie, which is two years
ago. But he is the typical Englishman, one of the kind that is never
enthusiastic about anything, and who would take his time to turn around
and see what the matter was, if a pound of dynamite was exploded at his
heels.”

“Was this match approved from the beginning by the parents?” asked
Nick.

“By Mrs. Sanborn, always,” replied young Sanborn. “But my uncle never
liked it. His objection was only that Ellison was an Englishman, and, if
not a nobleman himself, was very closely related to those moving in such
circles.”

“Indeed,” continued young Sanborn, “a few deaths, three or four, and
Ellison would come into a title and an estate. That he was a man of only
small property did not weigh so much with uncle as the fact that Elsie
would be taken to England and into a life for which she had not been
trained.”

He laughed a little, and then went on:

“But the objection was not serious, for uncle has never denied Elsie
anything she wanted, and she wanted Ellison very badly. So she married
him.”

“Of course, if Mrs. Ellison wishes to see me,” said Nick, “I will go to
her. But, before I do, I should like to ask you some questions as to
things I must know, if I am to undertake this search.”

“I will answer anything I ought to,” said young Sanborn.

“In the first place, what do you know about Ellison?”

“Well,” replied Sanborn, rather doubtfully, “I know a good deal about
him, and yet I don’t know much.

“I first met him four years ago in London. We were introduced by a
mutual acquaintance, a young Englishman of his walk of life, who had
spent some time in this country, and with whom I was well acquainted.

“I saw a good deal of Ellison in London at that time. He was very nice
to me in showing me around.

“As a matter of fact, he went over to Paris with me, and, on our return,
took me down with him to his relative’s place, the Earl of Kerleigh’s.

“So you see that I know there’s nothing bogus about his position. But he
is one of those fellows, so reserved and so quiet, that you may say you
never know him. I should say, however, that he was as straight as the
majority.”

“When did you next see him?” asked Nick.

“Two years ago,” promptly replied young Sanborn. “He came over here with
a shooting party, and, having written me that he was coming, and with
some fellows of his kind, most of whom I knew, and that they were going
into the West to shoot, I used my influence with my uncle to get up a
special car to take them out there in style.

“When they arrived and found what I had done, they made me go with them.

“Returning to New York, I did the best I could to entertain them, and it
was then that Ellison met Elsie.

“When the party was to start back to England, Ellison said he was going
to remain here. And he did so. He has never been back since.”

“How did he support himself here?” asked Nick.

“Oh, he has an income of his own,” replied Sanborn, indifferently. “I
gave him a few tips occasionally, when I had them, and he did a little
in the street. Not much, for he didn’t go in very heavy. He couldn’t. He
didn’t have the money.”

“What was his life here?” asked Nick.

“All right,” said the young man, “so far as I can tell. He was a member
of a club or two, went into society, was well entertained, and moved
around with the young men of the day.”

“Anything fast in his life?” asked Nick.

“Oh, no. He didn’t plunge any in anything.”

“Was he attentive to Miss Sanborn during all this time?” asked Nick.

“From the first. He asked her to marry him within the first year he was
here, and she referred him to her father. I have told you that Uncle
Harmon didn’t fancy the match, but he had a talk with the young
Englishman, and, as he told me afterward, Ellison came out of the talk
in a straight, manly fashion. In fact, he made a better impression on
uncle in that talk than he had made before. But uncle insisted that,
while they might consider themselves engaged, the wedding should not
take place for a year. And so Ellison settled down in New York for that
year to pass.”

“There doesn’t seem to be much in your tale to give me a hint,” said
Nick. “Now let me ask you a leading question. I beg you will not evade
it through any friendship for Ellison, whom you evidently like, or
feeling of loyalty to your cousin. Here is a mysterious thing in which a
man does the very thing you would expect him not to do, and at the very
time it would be supposed that the object of his life was accomplished,
defeating that object. If I am to solve this mystery, I must find the
reason for it in his life prior to his marriage. It is, therefore, not
idle curiosity that prompts me to ask you.

“Now, then, do you know of anything, even the slightest, irregular,
mysterious or complicating circumstance in the life of Mr. Ellison?”

“Mr. Carter,” said Mr. Sanborn, “if I have asked that question of myself
once to-day, since all this happened, I have asked it twenty times. And
I have been unable to answer it other than that his life has been a
straight, open book.”

He bent his head in thought for a moment or two and continued:

“I see your position and your point. I am earnest and sincere in what I
say. If, when I can give calmer thought to this thing than I have yet
been able to do, and some things occur to me that I cannot now recall, I
promise you that I will come to you with them at once.”

“Very well,” said Nick, “as we seem to have exhausted the subject for
the present, I will go with you to see Mrs. Ellison.”

Telling Chick, Patsy and Ida to remain until he should return, Nick went
off with young Mr. Sanborn to the home of the millionaire.

Arriving, he was taken at once to the apartments of the young lady who,
as he entered, was reclining upon a lounge.

She rose immediately, and, crossing the room to meet him, said:

“Dear Mr. Carter, I want you to understand from the first that I have
every faith in my husband. Don’t let anybody, no matter who, make you
believe that Mr. Ellison is not a good man. I wanted to say this to you
in the beginning. What has occurred, or why he has done this, of course,
I don’t know. But, whatever it is, it has been done because he could not
help himself, not from any intention to leave me. He loves me, I know,
and I know it as well as I know that I love him. I can tell you nothing
to help you in your search, but I did want you to know my faith in him,
and I wanted to see and talk with the man who has my faith and future in
his hands. That is you. Whether life will be of any value to me will
depend entirely on what you do and what you discover. And, having seen
you, I know I can trust you to do all that can be done.”

The young lady had been so earnest and had worked herself up to such a
degree of agitation that, at the conclusion of her words, she swooned
again.

But she soon recovered, and Nick, perceiving that she was again herself,
went downstairs to Mr. Sanborn’s room to have an interview with him.

CHAPTER XVII.

PATSY’S POINTER.

Nick returned to his assistants after his interview with Mr. Sanborn.

He was thoughtful and perplexed.

Mr. Sanborn had been unable to contribute a single idea or additional
bit of information that would help Nick to a starting place.

“In all my experience,” said Nick, “I have never met with just such a
case.

“All that we have is that a man has mysteriously disappeared at a most
unexpected moment, and when his disappearance is likely to lose him all
he had been striving for for two years.

“Those who know the man best, who for two years have been his intimate
associates, cannot even suggest a notion as to what might be the cause
of it.”

“It’s a great big stone wall,” said Patsy, “and we’re up agin’ it with
our noses scratching against the rough edges.”

Patsy’s terse description caused them all to laugh.

“Chief,” asked Chick, “do you think that you know the whole of the life
of this man, Ellison, here in New York for the past two years?”

“Perhaps not so well,” answered Nick, “as I might know if we had made a
careful search into it. But, before Mr. Sanborn consented to his
daughter’s marriage, and, subsequent thereto, he had inquiries made as
to the young man and how he was living, what he was doing, and he became
satisfied that there was nothing wrong in it.”

“Well,” said Chick, “it goes that a man don’t disappear as Ellison did
without a reason.”

“That is true,” said Ida. “Had he left at any other time, or any other
place, there would not have been so much in it.”

“What is your point?” said Nick, stopping in his pacing up and down and
standing before Ida.

“What I mean,” said Ida, “is this. If Mr. Ellison had been in his room,
say three months ago, reading, or smoking, or passing his time away
until bedtime, and had been called upon by some one who came to see him,
and, going out with him, had not returned, it might have been said that
he had allowed himself to drift away without strong reasons. But to
leave a house under the circumstances Mr. Ellison did, within two hours
after his marriage, and just as he was prepared to take his place at the
reception to receive his many wedding guests, shows that there must have
been reasons so strong that he dare not pass them by.”

Nick nodded his head as if agreeing with this, and Chick said:

“And crime of some kind is at the bottom of those reasons.”

Nick turned sharply on Chick and asked:

“What do you suspect?”

“I suspect nothing,” replied Chick. “I am trying to say that nothing but
a crime, or, a wrong, would make a man like Ellison leave as he did.”

“The reasoning is good,” said Nick. “Let us see. The most important
thing that could occur to Ellison, as we know it, is the possible
succession to the title and estate of his family. Now, the Earl of
Kerleigh is alive, and there are three lives between him and Ellison.
Suppose, for instance, that all of those four men were on a yacht and
were drowned at one and the same time. That would make Ellison the Earl
of Kerleigh and change him from an unimportant person to a very
important person in England; in other words, changing the whole course
of his life. It is hard to conceive anything more important to occur to
Ellison. Suppose that the big cape man Patsy saw, brought him that
information. While it would shock and excite him, there could be no
reason why he should not tell his newly-made bride and her family, even
if it were necessary for him to leave on the minute.”

“And that,” said Ida, “forces us to believe that there was some wrong or
some crime back of this hasty departure.”

“I say, chief,” said Patsy, “did any steamer sail to-day since twelve
o’clock?”

Chick jumped for the morning paper and quickly looked at the shipping
news.

“No,” he said, “no steamer left port to-day after twelve o’clock.”

“What time does the next steamer go out?” asked Nick.

“Every one that leaves to-morrow,” replied Chick, “must sail before nine
in the morning.”

“You have made a good suggestion,” said Nick. “I wish, Patsy, you would
take care of that end of it, and see that every steamer is properly
watched to-morrow morning.”

Patsy smiled with pleasure. The chief had acknowledged that he had made
the first practical suggestion in the work.

“It comes down to this,” said Nick, “we must set out upon the theory
that something wrong, some crime, some misfortune, or some complication,
exists in the life of Ellison that is unknown to his best friends.”

“Chief,” said Ida, “I believe that that is to be found not here in this
country, but in England.”

“Since he has lived so good a life here,” said Nick, “it would seem to
be so.”

The famous detective stood still a moment and said:

“I must appeal to my friend, Inspector Mostyn, of Scotland Yard, again.
Chick, write a cable to Mostyn and ask him to send all information that
is queer about Ellison. Tell Mostyn what family he belongs to.”

He turned to Ida and said:

“I don’t suppose there is a man in England who knows as much about the
noble families and their concealed histories as Mostyn does.”

“If you are to have a starting place at all,” said Ida, “I think you
will find it in what Mostyn tells you, and----”

Ida hesitated a moment, and Nick asked:

“And what?”

Ida laughed in a somewhat doubtful manner and replied:

“And I am afraid that you will find that it is something in which one of
my sex is involved. I have noticed that nearly all the trouble which a
sprig of the nobility gets into, is because of some woman.”

There was a tap at the door. Patsy opened it and found there a servant,
who passed in a letter, with the remark that it had just been received.

It was addressed to Nick.

Handing it to Nick, the famous detective opened it and said:

“It is the same handwriting.”

“The same as what?” asked Chick.

“The same writing as the note of warning of this morning.”

Reading it, he passed it to Chick, saying:

“Read it aloud.”

Chick read:

“‘A famous judge, having a man brought before him and listening to the
charge made against him, asked: “Who is the woman?” If you are wise, you
will take this as a pointer for the beginning of your new case.’”

The four detectives looked at each other, and then Nick took from his
pocket the letter of warning of the morning, and together they compared
the handwriting of the two letters.

“It is the same,” said Nick, positively.

“It was written by the same man,” said Chick.

“It is not the writing of a man, but of a woman,” said Ida.

Nick caught the two letters, and, carrying them to the window, where the
light was strong upon them, carefully examined them.

“You are right, Ida,” he said, as he returned to the table. “Though the
character of the writing is heavy and masculine, yet it is clear that a
female hand wrote both notes.”

Chick took them up again and carefully examined them.

“Ida,” said Chick, “while you are undoubtedly right in this, it would
seem to upset your theory that we must look for the reasons of this
mysterious disappearance in the life of Ellison in England, prior to his
coming to this country.”

Ida took up the envelope of the last letter, and, inspecting the
postmark, replied:

“Yes, since a woman is involved, as these letters show, and she is in
this city now. This letter was mailed this afternoon by three o’clock.”

Nick turned with a start.

“By three o’clock?” he asked. “Are you sure?”

Ida handed him the envelope, saying:

“Look for yourself. And it was from the General Post Office.”

“Then,” said Nick, “the writer of this letter knew of the disappearance
as quickly as we did.”

“It’s my guess,” said Patsy, “before.”

“You mean,” said Nick, “that she was a part of it?”

“Perhaps,” said Patsy; “anyhow, she knew it was goin’ to take place.”

“And it is my guess,” said Ida, “that the woman who wrote this letter is
not the woman that Ellison is mixed up with, but is a woman who is in
love with Ellison and who wants to get the other woman in trouble.”

“How in the world do you figure that out?” asked Chick.

“I don’t figure it out,” said Ida. “I’m guessing, like Patsy.”

She looked up at Nick and laughed as she continued:

“It is a guess based on my understanding of my own sex.”

“It is something to pay attention to,” said Nick, “especially in a case
so dark and difficult as this is. But, Ida, if we are to guess on the
probable actions of women, we could do a great deal more guessing.”

“As for instance, how?” asked Ida.

“We might guess that the woman who writes to us wishes to strike the one
Ellison married to-day, and that the job put up was to prevent the
marriage taking place, but that it miscarried.”

“Oh, if you’re going to guess,” said Chick, “you can guess anything, but
the real thing is to find the writer of these letters as a beginning.”

“See here, chief,” said Patsy, “are not we losing sight of one thing in
thinking only of this mysterious disappearance?”

“In what way?” asked Nick.

“Well,” said Patsy, “what was the start of this game, anyhow? Wasn’t it
a warning that the Sanborn house was to be robbed to-day?”

“If you’re never more wrong than you are in that, Patsy,” said Chick,
teasingly, “you’ll always be dead right, my laddy buck.”

“You’re getting gay, Chick,” replied Patsy. “I’ve got a notion in my
think box that I know where the start is in this case.”

The three turned with interest to Patsy, and Chick, inclined to jolly
Patsy, said:

“Expatiate, my brilliant statesman, expatiate.”

Patsy turned to Chick with a merry twinkle in his eye and asked:

“Did it hurt yer much to cough that up?”

“Come,” said Nick, “say what’s in you, Patsy.”

“Well, see here, chief,” Patsy went on. “You say both these letters were
sent by the same person.”

“Yes.”

“Well, the woman, if it is a woman, as Ida says, was dead right, wasn’t
she, when she said it was goin’ to be tried on.”

“You mean the attempt to rob the Sanborn house of the jewels, the
wedding presents?” asked Nick.

“The same,” said Patsy, eagerly. “Well, it was tried on, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Then the moll what wrote this letter knew all about it beforehand,
didn’t she?”

“Yes,” replied Nick, smiling as he recognized that Patsy was slipping
back into his east-side talk as he always did when he grew very earnest.

“Well, then,” continued Patsy, “it goes, doesn’t it, that she must know
the people what was goin’ to work it?”

“Yes,” replied Nick, eagerly, for he saw Patsy was getting to a point.

“And,” went on Patsy, “the moll has given you the warning that there was
a woman behind Ellison’s runnin’ away?”

“Yes.”

“And she must know who that moll is?”

“Yes.”

“And if yer could get on ter her, you’d get a line on the whole biz,
wouldn’t yer?”

“Yes.”

“But the thing is, Patsy,” said Chick, “to get to the woman who wrote
the letters.”

“That’s what I’m gettin’ at,” said Patsy. “The chief knows that the man
Lannigan, the swell cracksman of Philly, led off in this biz of tryin’
ter nip the jewels. And it’s dollars to doughnuts that Lannigan knows
the moll what writ these letters. So, Lannigan is the startin’ point ter
turn the lamps onto.”

Nick brought his hands together with a resounding clap and replied:

“You’ve hit it, Patsy, and you have given us what we have been fishing
for, a starting place. Now, Chick, you and Patsy start right out and see
if you can’t find Lannigan, and put him and his fellows under watch.
Don’t lose them until you know all they’re doing.”

Without waiting for anything else, Chick and Patsy went out.

“I fancy, Ida,” said Nick, “that there will be a good deal of work for
you to do in this case. You had better go home and spend the night in
getting a good rest. What you have to do will depend upon what the boys
will find out to-night.”

Ida went away, and Nick busied himself with a new make-up.

CHAPTER XVIII.

IN THE TENDERLOIN.

Chick and Patsy relied upon their knowledge of the haunts of criminals
and crooks in the city to give them trace of Lannigan.

It was nearly seven o’clock when they left Nick’s apartments.

“I’ll bet you, Patsy,” said Chick, “that the gang working the Sanborn
residence this morning was governed by our old friend Lannigan.”

“I’m thinking so myself,” replied Patsy.

“If that’s so,” replied Chick, “and they’re in the city yet, the place
to find them to-night is in the Tenderloin, where they’ll be rolling
about for a bit of a spree.”

“If they’ve got the price,” replied Patsy. “Their little show didn’t
come off according to the bill of play. They may be broke.”

“Oh,” replied Chick, “they’ve got enough for a roll, and I think the
best place to look for Lannigan is among the music halls.”

“It’s a little early,” said Patsy, “to take up that hunt.”

“Yes,” said Chick, “but that will give us a chance to get something to
eat, and I’ve had nothing since breakfast.”

“I’m with you,” said Patsy.

Accordingly, they turned into a rather well-known eating saloon in
Broadway, not far from Thirtieth Street.

They had not been seated at their table long, before they saw a man
enter who was a prominent member of the police detective force.

His name was Merton, and the two, Chick and Patsy, were on good terms
with him. Attracting his attention, they called him to their table,
asking him to dine with them.

When he was seated, they asked him if he was on any special business.

“A very easy lay,” replied Morton. “A young fellow, from an Eastern
city, who has got more money than brains, is down here on a
high-pressure spree. His folks, who can’t switch him, have appealed to
the department to put him under watch so that nothing bad will happen to
him. That’s my lay. The chief says it’s a kind of a vacation for me.”

“Merton, did you folks have an eye to the Sanborn wedding this morning?”

“In a way,” said Merton. “When the papers put up the story about there
being so much value in the presents that were given to the bride, the
chief had a look over the crooks working in that line to see if they
were going to do anything about it.”

“And they were not?” asked Patsy.

“No; the lads believed there was no use of trying it, because the
presents would be too closely watched and they came to know that the
chief was looking after them, so they steered clear away.”

“Then,” said Chick, “if any one did make the attempt, it was not local
lags.”

“That’s dead certain,” said Merton. “If any one did, they were
outsiders. But did any one try it on?”

“We think they did,” said Chick, cautiously.

“Well, if any one knows anything about it,” said Merton, “you ought to.
You were on guard there.”

“Oh,” said Chick. “You know that, then.”

“Yes,” replied Merton. “The chief was certain that Sanborn would call
Nick Carter in, for he always does that when he has got any work to be
done. That’s why the chief didn’t send anybody there.”

“Well,” said Chick, “Sanborn did not call on the chief. But the chief
got a tip that an effort was going to be made to nip some of those
presents and warned Sanborn only this morning. That’s how we happened to
be there.”

“Say,” asked Merton, suddenly, “what’s that story about the bridegroom,
Ellison, disappearing? Is there anything in it?”

Chick was a little puzzled to know how to meet this direct question. It
had been the hope of Nick and the Sanborn family as well, that the
dismissal of the guests would be attributed to the sudden illness of the
bride, and that, for a time at least, the disappearance of the groom
could be concealed. So he asked:

“What do you know about it?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” said Merton. “But a friend of mine,
who was there as a guest, said he heard Sanborn say something to his
nephew that made him believe that it was the running away of Ellison
from the house that made the bride sick. In other words, my friend
thought that there had been a big quarrel somewhere and that Ellison
left the house in a huff before the reception.”

This was enough to justify Chick in a denial, and he promptly made it.

“Well,” said Merton, “if there was an attempt made on the house, what
gang was it?”

“The chief thinks,” said Chick, “that Lannigan tried to get inside the
house, pretending to be one of your plainclothes men.”

“Lannigan? The man that Nick Carter had his hands on a little while ago
and let him off with a caution. Is it possible that he can be fool
enough to butt himself against the law again?”

“That’s what the chief thinks.”

“Well, I saw Lannigan on the street not an hour ago. You can find him
almost any minute in the Tenderloin somewhere. Both nights that he has
been about here he has had a woman with him, who is as swell as they
make ’em.”

Chick turned to Patsy and said:

“You see, Patsy, my guess was right. The Tenderloin is the place to look
for him.”

“Who is the woman that is traveling with him?” asked Patsy.

“She’s a stunner,” replied Merton. “She’s tall, slim, handsome, with a
face white, like marble, red lips, round blue eyes, and wavy, light
fluffy hair. She is dressed in the highest style. She looks to me like a
lady who is trying to see the wrong side of New York without being in
it.”

Chick and Patsy instantly exchanged glances.

“Are you looking after such a woman?” said Merton.

“The chief wants to know all about such a woman,” said Chick. “He
fancied that she was with Lannigan, and I guess they want evidence for a
divorce suit.”

“I thought Nick Carter never touched such cases,” said Merton.

“Oh,” replied Chick, carelessly, “it’s only my guess, but the work of
Patsy and myself is to get on to this couple, and put them under watch.”

“Then,” said Merton, “the best thing you can do is to travel with me
to-night, for, if they are here in town when the lights are lit, we’ll
run against them for sure.”

Having finished their meal, the three started out on their travels.

Merton had little difficulty in finding the man over whom he had
watched, but the two that Chick and Patsy were anxious to find could not
be found in any part of that gay section of New York.

All places, possible and impossible, open and concealed, were visited,
but no trace of Lannigan could be found. The hours passed and midnight
was nearly reached when Patsy said:

“I’m afraid, Chick, that our man has got out of New York after his
failure to do the work that he came here to do.”

“You mean the robbing of the Sanborn wedding presents?” said Chick.

“Yes,” said Patsy. “Very likely he has got to know that Nick Carter is
on his track again, and he doesn’t want any more hot encounters with the
chief.”

This had passed between Chick and Patsy as they were walking along
Broadway above Thirty-fifth Street.

Suddenly Merton halted the two, and, pointing to the other side of the
street, said:

“There’s your couple now.”

Looking across they saw a man and a woman, both stylishly clothed,
crossing Broadway to the corner on which they stood.

The three, dropping back out of sight, watched them cross. Standing on
the corner for a moment, the two seemed to discuss which way they should
go, then they turned up Broadway.

Following them, the detectives learned that their destination was a
restaurant whose principal business of the twenty-four hours was done
after midnight.

It was the resort of the gay people of the town, and, as other places
darkened, this one became brighter and gayer.

They waited on the outside long enough to make it appear that they had
not followed the pair into the place.

“It was worth waiting for,” replied Chick, “and we’ll probably get a
line on them before we are through with them.”

Finally, Chick said to Merton:

“We’d better go in now.”

He made the motion to lead the way up, when a young woman stepped up,
and, addressing Merton, said:

“Anything for me to do to-night, Mr. Merton?”

“No, Bess, I think not. I haven’t anything on to-night of any
importance.”

The girl stepped away, and Chick asked who she was.

“She is a girl,” said Merton, “who is employed by me a good deal.”

“You use her, then, in your work?”

“Yes; she’s as good as a directory. She knows everybody, who they are
and what they do.”

“Fetch her back,” said Chick. “We’ll take her in, and she may be of use
to us.”

Merton ran after her and brought her back. The four then entered the
restaurant.

The place was already more than half full, and there was some difficulty
in finding a table which was near enough to Lannigan and the woman who
was with him to make observation easy and yet not be too conspicuous.

When, at last, the table was selected, it was found to be well placed
for their purpose.

They not only commanded a good view of the table occupied by Lannigan
and his companion, but of the whole room.

“Chick,” said Patsy, “Lannigan isn’t broke, by any means. He’s doing the
swell caper. Nothing but champagne and Burgundy does him. See him mix
the fizz and the red.”

“Nothing less than seven and a half for that tipple,” said Merton.

“And nothing less than birds, as well,” said the girl Merton had called
Bess.

“His layout will knock spots out of a ten-dollar note,” said Patsy.

“You know who it is?” asked Bess.

“Know the man,” replied Chick; “his name is Lannigan.”

“That’s right,” said Bess.

“Do you know the woman who is with him?” asked Chick.

“No. She was never seen here until three nights ago, and she was with
him then.”

“See here, Bess,” said Merton. “These two friends of mine are on the
same lay that I am. They want to know all about a woman traveling with
Lannigan. I don’t know why, and I ain’t asking. And you don’t want to
ask why, either. But if you can help them, you’ll be helping me.”

“And the price will be the same from me,” said Chick, “as it is from
Merton when you are working for him.”

“The price isn’t much,” said Bess, with a laugh. “It’s only a tenner for
an evening’s work. I think I can help you, but I don’t know. I’ll try.”

“Then I’ll pay you now and take the chances,” said Chick, thrusting a
ten-dollar bill into the hands of the girl.

“Whether I can help you depends whether the girl with Lannigan is known
in Philadelphia, where Lannigan originally came from. A girl will come
in here some time to-night who will know her, if she is known in that
city. If she does, she’ll tell me.”

The little party of four then gave themselves up to the enjoyment of
their supper, which had been ordered by Chick. In the meantime, the room
gradually filled until all the tables were occupied; the place became
redolent with tobacco smoke and gay with the chatter of voices and
laughter.

As they watched the other table, they saw a man make his way through
the room, and, going to Lannigan, lean over him and whisper.

Lannigan seemed to be much annoyed, but, nevertheless, he took a bill
from his pocket and handed it to the man, who went out.

Patsy said to Chick:

“I flung that fellow out of the door at Sanborn’s this morning.”

“Was he the one who came with the flowers?”

“Yes. He’s the one who cried out when he saw Nick Carter.”

“He’s a New York crook,” said Merton.

“A second-story man,” said Bess.

As she said this, she jumped to her feet and began to beckon to some one
who had entered the saloon.

The one to whom she was beckoning was a rather flashily dressed young
woman who was of a party of three women and two young men.

“Hello!” exclaimed Merton. “There’s my man, and since he’s come in, I’m
neglecting no business.”

The party found a table at the other side of the room, which had just
been vacated. The girl whose attention Bess had been trying to attract,
finally, seeing Bess, came over to her and Bess asked:

“Is that party very dear to you, over there?”

“Oh, no,” said the girl. “I’m only trying to make it very dear for the
two willie boys in tow.”

“Are they friends of yours?” asked Bess.

“No; they’re friends of the other two girls. They just roped me in.”

“Shake them and join us,” said Bess. “I want to ask you something.”

The girl went back to the party. Apparently excusing herself, she came
back and sat down at the table as requested by Bess.

“Alice,” said Bess, “look at that man and woman over on that side.”

Bess pointed out the couple the party had under observation.

“Jimmy Lannigan,” said the girl called Alice. “He’s been rolling about
the Tenderloin for three nights. But he’s spending no money except on
the woman that is with him.”

“Do you know who she is?”

“Yes, I do,” replied the girl Alice, with a laugh. “She comes from our
old city, Bessie, and if she keeps this racket up much longer, if there
won’t be a swell divorce case with fine trimmings, I’m no guesser.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Chick.

“The thing with me is,” said Alice, “why the burst hasn’t come long ago.
She is the wife of a rich young fellow in Philadelphia. She is herself
of a good family and she’s going with the best. Her husband is a man
engaged in business and lets her go her own gait, while he is working
night and day to get rich. This young woman has been sporty for two or
three years; but I don’t think she’s guilty of anything worse than a
keen desire to have a good time. She respects the moral code, though she
goes into places which the majority of wives avoid.”

“How is it,” asked Chick, “that she’s in with such a fellow as
Lannigan?”

“I don’t know how to answer that,” said Alice. “I don’t know how much
she knows of Lannigan. But you know Lannigan is very swell. He’s a
handsome fellow, so I suppose that he’s caught her fancy.”

“She’s taking big chances,” said Patsy, “in traveling around with a
fellow so well known as he is.”

“She’s taking big chances all the time,” said Alice. “The wonder is that
she hasn’t been dropped to. Up to two or three months ago she was
traveling around in all sorts of places with a young Englishman. But
then he was one of her kind.”

“You mean,” said Merton, “that he moved in her circle of fashionable
life.”

“Yes,” said Alice, “and there was a lot of talk about her in her own
circle then. I had a friend who was one of the young sports in that
circle who told me all about it. This young Englishman had her out on a
yacht for a week, and her husband never knew anything about it.”

“Not alone?” asked Merton.

“Oh, no,” said Alice, “there was quite a party.”

“When was this?” asked Patsy.

“Let me see,” said Alice. “I can get pretty close to the time. It was
last September.”

“Do you know the name of the young Englishman?”

“No, I’ve forgotten it if I ever heard of it. Anyhow, he was here in New
York and used to run over to Philadelphia to see her.”

“What is her name?”

“Ladew. Her husband’s name is Thomas. That won’t be her name long,”
continued Alice, with a laugh, “if she let’s Jimmy Lannigan show her
around New York very often. She’s taking chances I wouldn’t dare to
take, if I were in her place.”

It seemed to Chick and Patsy as if they had secured all the information
which they were likely to obtain at that time.

Bess looked at Chick meaningly, as if to ask if he had gotten all he
wanted, and Chick nodded in reply.

The conversation was then changed, and Chick gave the signal to Merton
that he would like to get out.

Merton took the lead and the party rose.

CHAPTER XIX.

CHICK’S STRANGE ENCOUNTER.

The three detectives went to the door, but on reaching it, Merton said:

“I think I’ll have to leave you here. My business will make me stay
here, for I see that my man is getting pretty well loaded, and I must
keep an eye on him.”

Chick and Patsy therefore shook hands with him, thanking him for the
assistance he had given them.

While they talked at the door, a young man and a young woman entered
from the street and, walking some distance into the place, suddenly
stopped, peered forward earnestly, and then hastily turning, went out
into the street again.

The action had been observed by Patsy, who made up his mind that they
had seen somebody at the tables they desired to escape. He watched them
go to the corner and engage in earnest conversation.

After a moment, they went under the cover of the corner, where Patsy
could see that she took off her hat.

A moment later, they stepped out again into the light and, to Patsy’s
great surprise, she was a very different looking person.

Before she had been a blonde, and now she seemed to be dark haired.

“She had a wig on,” said Patsy to himself. “Now I wonder what was the
meaning of that?”

The couple stood on the corner a little longer, then the two went to the
curbstone and, entering a hansom cab, were driven off.

Patsy turned to Chick and Merton, who had been conversing while he had
thus been watching the couple, thinking that strange sights were to be
seen in the Tenderloin late at night.

Chick, slipping his arm under Patsy’s, now led him to the sidewalk, and
the two turned down Broadway.

“Well, Patsy,” said Chick. “I don’t know how much we have gained
to-night, but I take it that it is a good deal.”

“Do you think,” asked Patsy, as they walked along, “that the young
Englishman, the girl Alice talked of, was our man Ellison?”

“That notion has got into my head,” said Chick. “And if it is so, it
will be a big opening for us. We’ve got a way of finding out, however,
and that is, by finding if Ellison was on a yachting trip last
September.”

“And,” added Patsy, “whether he was in the habit of running over to
Philadelphia much.”

“That’s so,” said Chick, “I don’t think there is any use of following up
Lannigan and the woman, Ladew.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Patsy. “We might stumble on their
associates if we did.”

“Well,” said Chick, “if that is so, we had better go back and watch the
front of that place to see them come out.”

They had walked along as they had thus talked and had, therefore, gotten
something like two blocks below.

Chick turned about, suddenly, saying: