But, after the interview in the summerhouse, Jimmy was thoughtful. He knew that the truce that had been declared when Nick took the irons off his wrists was only a temporary arrangement, and that the detective would lose no time in drawing the coils about the interloper, and so tightly that there would be no way of escape left open. Jimmy realized that in order to succeed now he must play what remained of the game with supreme boldness—and that he must rely upon his established position in that house to see him through it to the end. At dinner, as has been said, he watched his two active enemies, covertly, all the time. He gave very little thought to Chick, although he recognized the fact that the assistant was there, prepared to render aid whenever it should become necessary to do so. After dinner, Jimmy kept his eyes open and his wits on the alert, and he saw Nick and Nan when they withdrew to one corner of the veranda, and entered upon that intimate interview. What Jimmy would have been willing to sacrifice could he have overheard that conversation need not be estimated upon; and the longer he watched it from a distance, the more anxious he became concerning what it might portend. When he could stand it no longer, he drew Lenore aside from the group with which she had mingled, and with her on his arm sauntered toward Nick and Nan, arriving at their secluded corner of the veranda just at the moment when Nan had said to Nick: “I am afraid, Nick Carter! I am afraid!” Low as the words had been uttered, they were overheard. Jimmy and Lenore both heard them, although they understood them quite differently. Jimmy believed that he thoroughly comprehended the meaning that was conveyed; Lenore was only puzzled that Nan Nightingale should be afraid of anything, and should give voice to her fears in exactly that tone. As she stopped before them, she exclaimed: “Afraid, Nan? Of what are you afraid?” “Of the consequences of her misdeeds, doubtless,” interjected Jimmy, before Nan could reply; and he added, with deeper meaning than Lenore could understand: “Fear is a wholesome thing, at times, when it conveys a warning of things that are likely to happen, under given conditions. It leads one to avoid those conditions, eh, Mr. Carter?” and he laughed. “Unless the fear is entirely misplaced, and unnecessary, Mr. Dinwiddie,” replied the detective. Nick looked across the veranda at that moment, and managed to catch the eyes of Chick, to whom he signaled. A moment later, Chick joined the little party in the corner. “I’m going to ask you to take my place here for a time, Chick,” said the detective. “Mr. Dinwiddie has begun a discourse on the quality of Fear, used as a proper noun, and I will leave it to you to answer him. Pray, do not let him escape, Chick, without having first given a good reason for his last statement.”