The doorbell rang, ending Nick’s train of thought, and he heard his butler going through the hall to answer the summons. He sprang up and intercepted him, saying quickly: “Go back, Joseph, to the kitchen. I will answer the bell. There may be something doing.” Joseph looked surprised but Nick did not say what more he had in mind. It was not in his nature to let another face possible peril, instead of meeting it himself. He saw Joseph retreating, and he then strode to the door and opened it. The taxicab mentioned had stopped in front of the house. Its passenger had alighted and was standing on the steps. “I’m looking for Mr. Nick Carter,” said he. “My driver says this is where he resides.” “That is correct,” said Nick. “Is he at home? I have a letter of introduction to him from----” “Come in, sir,” Nick interposed. “Walk into my library and take a chair. What can I do for you?” “Ah!” exclaimed the stranger. “You are Mr. Carter, then?” “Yes. Be seated.” Nick had sized up his visitor while speaking. He was a tall man of powerful build and somewhat over fifty. He was smooth shaved, with strong features, quite an aggressive expression, and searching gray eyes. His mouth was broad, his lips thin, his chin square, and determined. It was a face that did not impress Nick favorably. It evinced characteristics that were not pleasing to the keen insight of the detective. The stranger was well dressed, however, in a plaid suit and voluminous frieze overcoat, both of pronounced English cut and pattern. “I am glad I find you at home, Mr. Carter,” he said, in sonorous tones, taking a chair near that of the detective and producing a letter from his breast pocket. “Here is the introduction I mentioned. You are acquainted with Captain Phil Grady, of Scotland Yard, who is also a personal friend of mine. He is the writer and he advised me to see you.” Nick felt some of his misgivings beginning to melt away. He glanced through the letter, introducing one Sir Edward Chadwick, of London, and he then smiled and shook hands with the Englishman. “I know Grady very well, Mr. Chadwick,” he replied. “I am pleased to know you, also. How is my old friend, and when did you last see him?” “Quite recently, Mr. Carter, and I left him well,” rejoined Chadwick, with a smile softening the stern line of his thin lips. “I arrived in Boston this morning and came to New York by rail. I am here on important business and need your advice, and possibly your aid. I am stopping at the New Oriental.” “I will be glad to be of any service to you,” said Nick. “What is the nature of your business?” “I wish to find a young man who, I have reason to believe, is somewhere in the United States.” “Ah, I see.”