“It was let to a man who gave the name of John Talbot, address Lexington Avenue. He paid in advance and sent for ze costume yesterday afternoon. I have sent my clerk to ze address, but no such a man is known there.” “That does not surprise me,” said Nick. “Talbot was a stranger to you?” “Yes, Monsieur Carter, a total stranger.” “Do you recall him? Can you describe him?” “Only that he is a man of good build, quite dark, and with a beard.” “The beard cuts no ice,” said Nick, taking the note from Patsy. “If engaged in such deviltry as this suggests, he would have called here in disguise. I will keep this note, Mr. Perrot, and look into the matter.” Perrot signified his consent with a bow, a smile, and numerous gestures. “_Pardieu!_” he exclaimed. “As you will, Monsieur Carter. I wondered if I ought to give it to ze police.” “You have done better,” Nick assured him. “Now, Mr. Perrot, about the costume hired by Mrs. Archie Waldmere.” “Ha, I remember!” said Perrot. “Madame is one fine lady. It was ze lace costume of Night.” “That’s the one,” bowed Nick. “Do you remember when she engaged it?” “One week to-day, Monsieur Carter. Wait--I will be sure. I will show you ze entry.” Perrot hastened to find it in the book, and the date confirmed his statement. “Was the costume seen, or let to any other person, during the week?” Nick inquired. “It was, monsieur,” Perrot said quickly. “It was let two days later to a young woman who--wait! I will show you. Ha, it is here! To Miss Belle Blair, Boston Road, Fordham. She paid in advance and returned it ze next day. It was in ze pairfect order. One would not think she had worn it.” “Nor had she,” Nick said dryly. “Hey! What is that? You think----” “I think, Perrot, that you must say nothing of any of this to others,” Nick pointedly interrupted. “There is a crime involved, and I rely upon your discretion.” “_Pardieu!_ You may safely do so.” “The Night costume was hired only in order to make one so nearly resembling it as to defy ordinary inspection,” Nick added. “But the name of the woman is not Belle Blair, nor does she reside in Fordham. She is a crook, as well as the said Talbot.” “That’s dead open and shut, chief,” remarked Patsy. “They worked along the same lines.” “Exactly,” Nick nodded; then, to Perrot: “Have the costumes let to Mr. and Mrs. Waldmere been returned?” “Not yet, Monsieur Carter, and there is no haste. I know them. That is enough.” “And I think you can add nothing to the information you have given me,” said Nick, smiling. “I am obliged to you for it. Here is my card. If anything turns up later, perchance, telephone to me.” Perrot promised to do so, and the detective departed. “Gee! this certainly looks bad, chief, don’t it?” questioned Patsy, as they walked down the avenue. “Superficially, Patsy, it certainly does,” Nick allowed. “Was some one out to get Waldmere? Has he been turned down in cold blood?” “I am not ready to say. I wish to dig a little deeper.”