“There may be something in that,” Belden admitted, laughing. “At all events, Mr. Carter, the man was a total stranger to me. But why do you regard the message so suspiciously?” “Have you a copy of it?” “Yes, certainly.” “Let me see it.” Belden stepped into the outer office, returning presently with a spindle, on which were copies of all of the telegrams received that day. He began to remove them, seeking the one in question, and Nick said, while waiting: “By the way, Belden, have you received any other telegrams from Philadelphia this morning, or within a day or two?” “Yes. There was one this morning.” “Let me see that, also. Was it received before the other, or later?” “About an hour earlier.” “Let me see both of them.” “Here is the first one,” said Belden. “It was received at nine o’clock. See for yourself, Mr. Carter.” Nick took the telegram and read it: “Gus Dewitt, Reddy House, Shelby: Ten will hit me. Quickest route. A. Monaker.” It was a message that would have signified very little to most men. It might have been an ordinary business communication, a wire concerning the price and quantity of desired merchandise and the direction for shipping it. Nick Carter’s strong, clean-cut face, however, took on a more intent expression. “By Jove, I am right,” he said. “It’s a hundred to one that this was sent to notify Dalton just when to call for the message.” “Why do you think so?” Belden inquired, leaning nearer to read the telegram. “For three reasons,” said Nick. “First, the signature—A. Monaker.” “What about it? It evidently is a man’s name. I see nothing remarkable in that.” “There is, nevertheless,” Nick replied. “Monaker, Belden, is a slang term for a nickname. Undoubtedly in this case it refers to a fictitious name, or an alias. It means, I think, that an alias would be used in the message afterward sent, signed Martin and addressed to John Dalton, presumably an alias of which Dalton already was informed.” “By gracious, Carter, you may be right.” “Ten will hit me told Dalton at just what time he must expect the message. He was, in effect, directed to call for it at that hour. Obviously, too, the business is secret and important, as well as off color, or such a circumspect method of communication would not be necessary.” “Surely not,” Belden agreed. “But what do you make of the last—quickest route?” “By wire, Belden, of course,” said Nick. “A telegram is the quickest means of communication when the telephone cannot be wisely and conveniently used.” “That’s right, too,” Belden readily admitted. “By Jove, you have a long head, Mr. Carter.” “Training enables one to detect such points as these,” Nick replied. “Do you know Gus Dewitt, to whom this message is addressed?” “I do not.” “It was sent to the Reddy House.”