Nick did not inform him. Instead, as they turned into Fifty-third Street and approached the boarding house occupied by the Englishman, he inquired, more earnestly: “Where had you been with your wife, or where were you going, Mr. Waldron, when this strange separation occurred?” A tinge of red appeared in the Englishman’s cheeks. He appeared somewhat embarrassed. He gazed at Nick for a moment, then said: “We went out for a bit of a walk, Mr. Carter. It’s deuced tiresome, you know, sitting around a bally boarding house. Here we are, too, and----” “Wait one moment,” Nick interrupted, as they arrived at the steps of the house. “I have something to say to you, Mr. Waldron.” “Glad of it, old top, on my word. What is it?” “You already anticipate it,” Nick replied impressively. “I can read that in your face. Now, young man, this matter may be even more serious than you really think. I have no idea that we shall find your wife here. There is no telling when she will return, by whom she was carried away, or how she can be traced and the truth discovered--unless you tell me the truth.” “But----” “Your name is not Archie Waldron. You did not come out merely for a walk with your wife. You were going, or had been somewhere, with a definite object in view, and that possibly may have some bearing upon what followed.” “’Pon my word, sir----” “Oh, there is nothing to it,” Nick insisted. “I mean just what I say. You will be perfectly safe, Mr. Waldron, in frankly confiding in me. You must do so, too, or I shall drop this matter immediately. Under no other conditions will I enter this house.” CHAPTER II. DOWN TO CASES. Nick Carter had a way of making himself felt under such circumstances. His impressive remarks were immediately effective. The Englishman turned even more pale and grave, gazing apprehensively at the detective, while he replied, with agitated voice: “You’re deucedly well right. I’d be a blooming idiot, Mr. Carter, if I couldn’t see that. Come into the house, sir, and I’ll tell you the whole beastly business. Your word is as good as a Bank of England note, sir, and I’ll keep nothing from you.” “You have decided wisely,” said Nick, while they mounted the steps. “In so far as the circumstances permit, I shall consider your disclosure strictly confidential.” “That’s mighty kind, sir, and I’ll pay you handsomely.” “Payment is an afterconsideration. I will accept no more than my services warrant.” “You’re deucedly clever, old top, and I’m proud to know you. Some jolly good fairy must have sent you my way in an hour of need. Come up to my room, sir.” The Englishman had opened the door with a latchkey, and he now led the way to an attractively furnished room on the second floor. Among the first articles to catch Nick’s eye, amid other evidence of feminine taste and sentiment, were two artistic photographs on the mantel. One was a likeness of his companion.