“I will take one of my assistants along, also, and get you to take us out there,” Nick added. “I will gladly do so, Mr. Carter.” “Very good. You probably know Mr. Maybrick’s number. Talk with Mrs. Soule as I have directed.” Miss Farley hastened to obey, quickly obtaining only negative information from the anxious housekeeper. The Reverend Austin Maybrick had not returned. Nick Carter rang for Joseph and sent for Patsy Garvan, his junior assistant. Five minutes later, in company with Miss Farley and her chauffeur, they were speeding toward Westchester County and the home of the missing rector. CHAPTER III. UNEXPECTED CLEWS. It was early afternoon when Nick Carter and Patsy arrived in the aristocratic suburb in which Harriet Farley dwelt, and nearly under the towering walls of St. Lawrence’s Church. Nick directed the chauffeur to stop, however, nearly a hundred yards from the sacred edifice. “You must drop us here, Miss Farley, and return home,” said he. “I will take your telephone number and talk with you later.” “Why are you averse to my going with you to the rectory?” she inquired, with a look of surprise. “Only because publicity is undesirable at present, if it can be prevented. And it may be of advantage to me if my investigations are not suspected,” Nick explained. “If you were seen returning with two men after your visit this morning, curiosity might be aroused and inquiries and comments would follow.” “Very well, Mr. Carter, in that case,” Miss Farley said. “But you must let me hear from you. I shall feel very anxious.” “I certainly will,” Nick assured her, while he alighted with Patsy. The limousine sped away, leaving the two detectives in a broad, beautifully shaded avenue flanked on both sides with handsome dwellings, each occupying spacious and finely kept grounds, evincing the opulence and refinement of the residents. St. Lawrence’s Church occupied a corner in the near distance. It was a handsome edifice, somewhat back from the avenue, and flanked by a quiet side street, and Nick rightly inferred that the rectory, the home of the Reverend Austin Maybrick and his elderly housekeeper, was situated back of the church, and fronted on the side street. “We’ll turn back to the corner, Patsy, and go through the side street,” he remarked, after briefly viewing the surroundings. “That will, unless I am much mistaken, bring us to the rectory.” “I’m with you,” said Patsy tritely. “What do you make of the case, chief? Does it look bad to you?” “Quite so,” Nick replied. “I did not increase Miss Farley’s anxiety by telling her so, but I think Maybrick is in wrong, if not up against a more desperate game than he can pull out of unaided.” “It looks so, chief, for fair,” said Patsy, who had been informed of Miss Farley’s disclosures. “I must find out, if possible, just what his relations with Kate Crandall have been,” said Nick. “Also, just what type of woman she is, and of what she is capable.”