“Looking for me,” Nolan tersely thought, slinking back in the doorway. “I’ll let him look for half a minute and see what he’ll do next.” Garland did not look as long as half a minute. He evidently assumed that Nolan had not yet completed his work and arrived there. He turned abruptly and hastened to a house on the opposite corner of the cross-street, entering with a key. “That must be where the bloke lives,” Nolan reasoned. “That’s why I was told to come up here to report. I’ll see--huh! there he is again.” Nolan caught sight of him at one of the front windows. He could see his dark face between the lace draperies. He watched it intently, with even a more sinister look in his own keen eyes. Garland evidently was watching for the expected man. “I’ll sneak out when he isn’t watching, and then show up on the corner,” Nolan said to himself. “He won’t be wise, then, to the fact that I got here first. I’ll put something over on him, all right, or I’ve doped out this business all wrong.” Something like five minutes later, after waiting for a favorable opportunity, Nolan appeared on the street corner opposite Garland’s residence. He had been waiting only a moment when the latter emerged from the house and hastened over to join him. “Well, you’re here, Nolan, at last,” he said, a bit curtly. “Sure I’m here, boss,” Nolan nodded. “You can always bank on my making good.” “Have you done what Hart directed?” “The geeser who hired me? Yes, of course. I sure have done it. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here,” said Nolan, with an expressive leer. “Well, what did you learn?” Garland demanded, more sharply eying him. “I followed the two blokes down Fifth Avenue about three blocks, but I couldn’t get next to anything they were saying,” Nolan proceeded to report. “They parted on a corner, and then I followed the big guy, him as put the peppery spiel in the pawnshop.” “Where did he go?” “Over to a house in Madison Avenue.” “Did you find out his name?” “Sure I did,” Nolan declared, much as if such a question was needless. “Trust me for that. I was wise to it, all right, when I piped him going in that crib.” “Who is he? What do you know about him?” “He’s a fly gun, boss; that’s what he is. He’s the biggest squeeze in the whole dick outfit. His name is Carter.” “Not Nick Carter?” “That’s what.” “Are you sure of it, absolutely sure of it?” “As sure as if a house fell on me,” Nolan forcibly asserted. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve had him after me more’n once. He was made up with grease paint and spinach, all right, but I was wise to his true mug when he went up the steps and into the house. I knew before where the dick lived. What’s the game, boss? I could help you further, if you fancied putting me wise.”