“Let her go, Danny,” Chick directed, when Nick turned to rejoin the waiting woman. “No. 82 P---- Street, Harlem. Eat it up lively!” CHAPTER II. THE MISSING RECTOR. Nick Carter had more than one reason for complying with the request of the young lady who had arrived at his residence just as he was departing. Nick was influenced not only by her manifest anxiety and agitation, but also by the fact that her wealthy father, Archibald Farley, who had died about a year before, leaving her something like five millions, had been a personal friend, and had frequently entertained him in his magnificent Westchester mansion. Nick knew, moreover, that Harriet Farley was a remarkably sensible, level-headed girl, and that she would not thus have appealed to him without very serious occasion. He conducted her into his library, therefore, instead of to his business office, that he might suffer no interruption. “Take an armchair, Miss Farley,” said he, placing one for her. “Compose yourself, too, for I see that you are quite nervous. What is the trouble?” “I ought not to have come in here, Mr. Carter, for I want you to go with me,” she replied. “It may be just as well, however, if I first tell you the cause of my anxiety.” “I think so,” said Nick, taking a chair near her. She was a very beautiful girl, in the twenties, of light complexion, and with wonderfully blue, expressive eyes. Her features were of a refined and classic cast, evincing culture and strength of character. Her head was finely poised and crowned with an abundance of wavy auburn hair. She was above medium height, with a supple, graceful figure, the attractive lines of which were accentuated by her close-fitting, fashionable garments. “You must not think my fear is foolish. Mr. Carter, nor my interest in this matter presumptuous,” she said earnestly, replying to the detective’s remark. “I have serious reasons for both, and I shall insist upon your investigating the matter immediately, if I can prevail upon you to do so.” “Your father and I were very good friends, Miss Farley,” Nick replied. “I would be very glad to be of service to you.” “I felt sure of it, Mr. Carter, thank you.” “What is the matter to which you refer?” “It relates to the disappearance of quite a noted young clergyman, the Reverend Austin Maybrick, rector of St. Lawrence Church, which I attend. I know that he has met with evil of some kind.” “I know Mr. Maybrick very well by reputation,” said Nick. “He is fast becoming noted for his eloquence, his advanced ideas, and his charitable work among the lowest classes. He has a very wealthy parish, I believe?” “Yes, very; it includes some of the richest residents of Westchester County.” “You say that Mr. Maybrick is mysteriously missing?” “Yes.” “Since when?” “Since nine o’clock last evening.” “But that is not long,” said Nick significantly. “Surely, Miss Farley----”