“That’s the very point I was coming to,” Nick said, more forcibly. “They must have discovered it. Danny’s report convinces me of that. Kate Crandall knows it, also the unknown man who informed her. He must be identified. We have Danny’s description of him, which will probably be recognized by persons employed in the Ashburton Chambers, if he has been in the habit of visiting Kate Crandall.” “No doubt.” “You tackle that part of the work, Chick, and we’ll get after these suspects before they can make a successful get-away.” “But Kate Crandall said she would be in her apartments all of this evening, chief,” Patsy reminded him. “That don’t look much like bolting.” “That may have been only a blind,” Nick replied. “She may have feared that she already was being watched, or that the clerk might be questioned later. Be that as it may, we’ll lose no time in seeking tangible proof of my suspicions. While Chick is hunting up the unknown man, Patsy, you see what you can learn about Ralph Sheldon and Philip Floyd.” “I’ve got you, chief.” “If the former visits Kate Crandall, as she directed, we may be lucky enough to clinch the case and round up the entire gang this very evening,” Nick added, rising abruptly. “I’ll tackle Kate Crandall personally. I’ll find out in short order what she knows about Cyrus Darling.” “That’s the stuff, chief,” cried Patsy. “We’ll be off at once. Danny is still waiting. We can make the Ashburton Chambers in twenty minutes.” CHAPTER V. THE WOMAN IN THE CASE. Nick Carter entered the Ashburton Chambers soon after eight o’clock that evening. He did not send up his card to Kate Crandall. He sauntered in and bought some cigars off a girl clerk in charge of the counter. While lighting one, he inquired carelessly: “Have you seen Ralph Sheldon here this evening?” “Yes, sir,” said the girl. “He came in half an hour ago. I saw him talking with the clerk. I guess he went up to his suite.” “To the woman’s suite,” thought Nick, recalling what Danny had reported. Then, indifferently: “I heard to-day that Mr. Sheldon is living here.” “Yes, sir. He has a suite with Mr. Floyd on the third floor. They have been here about two months.” “Philip Floyd?” “Yes, sir. But I don’t think he is here to-day. He travels a good deal of the time. The clerk can tell you.” “It’s not material,” said Nick, turning away. He sauntered out and around to the side door of the house, throwing away his cigar, then entered and took the elevator, saying to the man in charge: “Miss Crandall’s apartments.” “Third floor, sir,” directed the man. “Number ninety-eight, to the right.” “Number ninety-eight?” queried Nick. “I thought Ralph Sheldon had that suite.” “No, sir. He and Mr. Floyd have number ninety-four, rear corridor.”