“Well, with that understanding, go ahead. Be your own master. Do as you want to do. Do not wait to ask a question of me. I shall go away this afternoon. I won’t be back here in this office until I have solved this case and am ready to put Jimmy where he belongs. It may take me six days, and it may take me six months—but if it takes me a year to do it, it shall be done just the same.” It was only a few hours later when Nick Carter was seated in the parlor of the little apartment which Nan Nightingale called home, in Riverside Drive, and presently Nan entered the room and hurried toward him with extended hand. “I know what has brought you here, Mr. Carter,” she said, as she took a seat opposite him. “I have read the morning papers containing the report of that decision—and also an edition of one of the afternoon papers, which is just out. I was finishing that article just as you were announced.” “Something in one of the afternoon papers?” returned Nick. “What is that? I have not seen it.” “I have it here. I will show it to you in a moment. Don’t you think it is a remarkable thing that Jimmy should so thoroughly have established himself that he was able to satisfy the court that he is Ledger Dinwiddie and has not been Bare-Faced Jimmy?” “Remarkable? Of course it is remarkable. It only goes to show what a thorough plotter the fellow is. He had prepared himself for every emergency before he started on this affair.” “Yes. He was not so far wrong when he defied you up there at The Birches, was he?” “No; and he did defy me, too. He said that he could prove that he was Dinwiddie, even while he did not hesitate to admit to me that he was Jimmy. But what about that article in the afternoon paper? Tell me about that.” “Shall I tell you about it, or would you prefer to read it for yourself?” “Tell me about it. I am satisfied that you have gleaned all there is in it.” “Oh, it isn’t much; only one of Jimmy’s old tricks.” “Old tricks? How is that?” “Why, he has condescended to permit a reporter to interview him—about his wife.” “Ah! There ought to be some meat in that—for me.” “I think there is. That is why I was so interested in it.” “Tell me about it.” “There is more than a column and a half in the story that the reporter tells about the interview.” “Yes? Well?” “The account starts in by giving a resumé of the case. It tells how Mr. Ledger Dinwiddie, the last of his race, broken in fortune, land-poor, left his home in despair before he was seventeen, and had never been heard of since then until a short time ago, when he suddenly reappeared, bringing with him a beautiful wife.” “Yes.”