One o’clock that afternoon brought additional evidence. It came through Monsieur Perrot, who was admitted to the detective’s residence in a state of suppressed excitement. He brought in a paper wrapper--the cape of the Spanish cavalier costume worn by Archie Waldmere the previous night. It was gashed in two places with a knife, as if the wearer had been stabbed, and the cloth was saturated with blood. Perrot stated that it had been found by an East River boatman. It was caught on a spike in the river wall at which one of the crosstown streets end, directly over the swirling waters of the East River. The boatman had given the cape to a policeman, who found Perrot’s name on it and began an investigation. When told that Nick already was at work on the case, the officer at once sent the costumer to the detective to exhibit the garment and state the circumstances mentioned. Nick examined the cape carefully after Perrot had departed, and subjected the stains to a test. “Human blood, Patsy,” he remarked. “There is no question about it.” “Gee! the case looks worse and worse,” Patsy replied gravely. “It appears like dollars to fried holes that Waldmere was knifed to death. The collar is torn, as if he put up a struggle.” “So I see,” Nick nodded, still inspecting the garment. “And the two gashes are on the left side, as if thrusts were aimed at his heart. Gee whiz! it looks to me, chief, as if he was brutally killed and then chucked into the East River.” “Go up to the street Bolton mentioned,” said Nick, referring to the policeman. “See whether there is any sign of blood on the river wall, or the near street. Question the people living close by and find out whether a motor car was heard to stop there during the night.” “I’ve got you, chief,” said Patsy, hastening to make ready. “Report as soon as possible.” “Trust me for that.” It was three o’clock when Patsy returned, and his report was still further convincing. He had found marks of blood on the river wall and in the near street. Two near residents, moreover, had heard a motor car stop there just before midnight, but had supposed only that some person was returning home. Nick heard this report without any comments. It was not much different from what he was expecting. Chick Carter had returned from Brooklyn, in the meantime, and was discussing his call on Mrs. Ringold when Patsy entered. He now resumed it with Nick, saying quite earnestly: “They employ only four servants. One is a chauffeur, but he is married and has a home of his own.” “He’s out of it, then,” said Nick. “Who are the others?” “A housekeeper of nearly sixty, who has been there several years.” “It’s safe to drop her, also.” “That leaves only the cook, in whom Mrs. Ringold has absolute confidence, and a girl who serves as a maid, named Annette Levine. She has been there less than a year.” “Did you see her?” Nick inquired.