CHAPTER III. POINTERS TO CRIME. Nick Carter made no comments upon the disappearance of the photograph, or, at least, none that expressed his thoughts. Mrs. Darling could not say how long it had been gone from the album, nor could she conceive of any reason for its removal. “He may have led a much more gay and festive life than she suspected,” thought Nick, upon leaving the house after giving her a few additional instructions. “He may also have been a thousand times more sly than she imagined. Another woman now has the photograph, perhaps, the gift of a recreant husband, who thought it easier to give her that than to sit for a new one. It would be worth while to know the woman’s name, in that case--and also to know what has become of Danny Maloney.” Nick’s mental digression occurred while he emerged from the driveway gate and found that his chauffeur was nowhere to be seen. The touring car stood at the curbing, but there was no sign of Danny. “H’m, that’s a bit odd,” Nick soliloquized, gazing in each direction. “I thought he might be merely stretching his legs. He must have seen some one, or something, that he thought it worth while to learn more about. He never neglects--ah, that will explain.” A scrap of paper protruding from under the chauffeur’s seat had caught Nick’s eye as he was about to enter the car. He drew it out and read, scribbled with a lead pencil: “Don’t wait for me, chief. I’ll report later.” Nick smiled and sprang into the car. Ten minutes later he arrived at the residence of Doctor Lyons, whom he found alone in his office. “Well, well, Nick, this is an unexpected pleasure,” said the physician, after their greeting. “It’s ages since I have seen you. What’s on your mind? I know your call is not entirely a social one, nor do you look as if you needed a prescription.” “No, I’m as right as a trivet,” said Nick, smiling. “It’s about the suicide of Mr. Cyrus Darling.” “What about it?” “This is strictly between us, mind you, and must not go farther.” “Enough said. Mum’s the word.” “You view the remains, I am told, and pronounced it a case of suicide?” “Certainly. There was nothing else to it, absolutely nothing.” “I’m not so sure of it,” said Nick. “Coming from any one else, Nick, I should laugh derisively at that,” Doctor Lyons replied, with a look of surprise. “Coming from you, however, it demands serious consideration. What do you mean?” “I’m not prepared to say,” Nick rejoined. “I have just begun to look into the case at the request of Mrs. Darling. When I learn anything definite, Lyons, I will make it a point to inform you.” “That’s good enough for me,” said the physician. “But I really think, Nick, that you are on a wild-goose chase. There’s nothing to it. Darling committed suicide, Nick, as sure as you’re alive.” “It will be wise to report nothing different at present,” said Nick. “You may be right, of course, and I may drop the case within twenty-four hours.” “I’ll wager you will.”