Nick dropped the piece of lozenge into the water, then glanced up at her pretty face. “Now the spoon, if you please,” said he, taking it from her. “That is all, thank you. You may go.” Minerva bowed, blushing, and left the room. Chick, Patsy, and the Waldmeres were still more puzzled. Nick arose and walked to the window. Unobserved by the others, he took his lens from his pocket and briefly studied--the finger print left by the girl on the steam-dampened handle of the silver spoon. CHAPTER IV. WHAT NICK HAD LEARNED. It was after one o’clock when Nick Carter left the Waldmere residence, after having given such further instructions as the circumstances seemed to require. Twenty minutes later found him seated in his business office with Chick and Patsy, when he at once began to tell them what he thought of the case. “There is little to it, and also much to it,” said he enigmatically. “We must do some quick work, mighty quick work, or farewell to the Waldmere plate.” “How do you size it up, chief?” questioned Patsy, who saw that Nick was somewhat anxious over the outcome of the case. “That may be told in a nutshell,” Nick replied. “Waldmere’s designs were known by his servants. One of them put a gang of crooks wise to the possibility of this robbery and what could be derived from it.” “Surely,” put in Chick. “That’s as plain as twice two, though Waldmere does not think so.” “The information was stealthily learned from the inventory received two weeks ago,” Nick continued. “A copy of it was secretly made, no doubt, and given to one of the crooks.” “Ten to one,” Chick nodded. “That gave them the numbers of the three cases containing the gold plate, and they afterward were kept constantly informed as to the time of their arrival and of what Waldmere’s intentions consisted.” “That’s obvious, also.” “Just how she was led into this crime, however, and with whom she has been communicating and handing out this information, remain to be discovered. It must be discovered, too, without delay.” “She!” exclaimed Patsy, gazing. “Do you suspect one of the maids, chief?” “More than suspect, Patsy,” Nick replied. “I am sure of her.” “Which one, chief?” “Minerva Grand.” “Gee whiz! That doll-faced girl! She don’t look capable of stealing a feather from a peacock’s tail.” “That’s too true for a joke, Patsy,” said Chick, a bit dryly. “Are you really sure of it, Nick?” “Dead sure, Chick, and then some.” “By Jove, it seems almost incredible.” “Let me explain,” said Nick. “I found on the highly polished face of one of the small interior drawers in Waldmere’s desk numerous dainty finger prints.” “H’m, is that so?” “I might not have been so quick to suspect, however, if I had found the same on the adjoining small drawers, also. But they were only on one. It was the one to which Waldmere reached when I asked him to let me see the inventory. I already felt sure it was in that drawer.”