“Were there other persons near the taxicab at the time?” “None nearer than I, sir, nor quite as near. I ran after it as fast as I could. I felt cock-sure, even then, it was a beastly job of some kind.” “Do you know of any reason for which your wife might be abducted?” Nick asked, more gravely. “No, no reason at all, Mr. Carter. There can’t be any reason.” “And you know of no person who might have designs upon her?” “I do not,” said the Englishman, with a groan at the mere suggestion. “What designs could one have? Mollie is my wife. She thinks the world of me. She’s true-blue and deucedly clever and self-reliant. She----” “Wait!” said Nick, checking him again. “You are English, I judge.” “Yes, of course.” “And your wife is an American girl?” “She is, sir, and none better.” “Do you reside here in the city?” “We are here only for a time. We are boarding in Fifty-third Street, near the avenue.” “Let’s walk that way,” said Nick. “It’s barely possible that your wife will have been dropped at the boarding house before we reach it. How long before you appealed to me did this incident occur?” “Not more than three or four minutes. We were about three blocks below here.” Nick remembered having seen a taxicab speeding up the avenue noticeably faster than usual at about that time. He had not observed it particularly, however, nor could he recall anything distinctive about it. There were other reasons than that, moreover, for the interest he was taking in this stranger. He regarded the episode quite as seriously as the young Englishman himself. He knew much better than the other what daring and audacious crimes are committed in New York, and he began to suspect that this might be one of them. Nick had decided to look at least a little deeper into the matter, therefore, and it was with that object in view that he suggested going to the Englishman’s lodging house, which was only a few blocks south of where the two men had met. Nick continued to question him while they walked briskly down the avenue. “How long have you been in New York?” he inquired. “I have been here only two weeks, Mr. Carter, this time,” was the reply. “Your second visit?” “Yes. I was here about two months ago for the first time. I have been out in the bally Cripple Creek country to invest in some mines. Deucedly rough section, old top, with a beastly lot of bally bounders, but they dig out a jolly quantity of rich ore. ’Pon my word, I----” “You are a man of means, then, I infer,” put in Nick. “Well, I have a bit of a fortune in my own name.” “By the way, speaking of that, what is your name?” Nick pointedly inquired. The Englishman hesitated for half a second. Most men would not have noticed it. Nick was quick to detect it, suspecting deception, however, as well as some secret occasion for it. “My name is Archie Waldron.” “Archie Waldron, eh?” “Yes. I am English, you know, as you remarked, though I’m jolly well puzzled as to how you discovered it.”