Nick Carter read this rude scrawl indifferently at first, then glanced at it again more carefully. Mallory, watching him, detected a sharper gleam deep down in his more serious eyes. He straightened up and inquired abruptly: “What do you think of it?” “It’s on the level,” said Nick. “The woman means what she says.” “Woman?” questioned Mallory quickly. “How do you know a woman wrote it? It isn’t signed.” “True.” “And the writing looks like a man’s?” “True again.” “Why do you think, then, that a woman wrote it?” “Sentiment,” said Nick tersely. “It appears between the lines, illiterate though they are. We very seldom find it in men of the class in which the writer of this evidently falls.” “A fallen class, evidently,” remarked Detective Vallon. “Possibly,” Nick allowed. “She has a high opinion of you, Mallory, all the same. Very properly too.” “Thanks!” blurted the chief a bit gruffly. “You had better go up there and look into the case. Fifty dollars will more than foot the bills. It’s quite remarkable, by the way, where the writer raised that amount, and--let me see the bank note, Mallory.” “It looks all right,” said the inspector, complying. “True,” said Nick. “It is not a counterfeit, but evidently is fresh from---- Yes, by Jove, you had better go up there,” he abruptly digressed. “If you think well of it, Mallory, I’ll go with you.” “I shall be more than pleased,” declared Mallory, with a look of surprise. “I’ll have my chauffeur bring around the touring car,” added Nick, touching an electric button on his desk. “There will be room for you, Chick, and for Vallon, also, if he cares to go.” “I’m hooked,” Vallon quickly nodded. “Count me in.” As the four detectives were descending the steps of Nick’s residence five minutes later, however, at which his touring car then was standing, a rapidly driven limousine approached and swerved to the curbing near by. Nick paused instinctively, then approached to meet a handsome, fashionably clad young woman, who had hurriedly alighted and drawn nearer. “You were going away, Mr. Carter, and I am just in time,” she said quietly yet in some excitement. “You must postpone it. I must see you alone immediately--no, no, don’t refuse! I’ll not take no for an answer. I really must see you. It’s a case of life or death.” “What is the trouble, Miss Farley?” Nick gravely inquired, noting her paleness. “I cannot tell you here--not here!” she whispered. “Do please give me your time. Money is no object, Mr. Carter, and----” “Hush!” Nick turned to the men in the touring car. “I must cut out the visit to Harlem, inspector,” he said significantly. “Chick will go with you, however, and---- Well, you understand.” “Certainly, Nick, certainly!” Inspector Mallory assured him. “There is nothing involved in it. Chick will inform you later of all the facts. No apology is necessary.”