“Simply this--that Floyd might go so far as to get away with Waldmere and plant all of the evidence indicating that he has been murdered, but he would go no further than that,” Nick pointedly reasoned. “He would not complete the job, nor put himself in a way to the electric chair, until he had received the price agreed upon for the murder. He would hold Waldmere a prisoner until he got his money.” “I see the point,” Chick nodded. “That would, indeed, be very like him.” “Here, now, is something in support of that theory,” said Nick, turning to his desk. “Here is the note that lured Mollie Waldmere to the west-front chamber that she might not see the duplicate Night and prevent her from enticing Waldmere from the house. “Here are the two admission cards craftily obtained from the Ringolds, on which were written the names of the costumes worn by the two crooks. Here, too, is the note found in the pocket of the Mexican costume, apparently sent to the wearer by a confederate and indicating that Waldmere was to be taken away in a limousine and murdered.” “I see,” said Chick, bending over the desk to examine them. “Do you see anything specially significant in connection with them?” “I can’t say that I do.” “Well, I can,” said Nick. “The writing on all of these articles is the same, or so nearly alike that I am sure that the same man wrote all of them.” “By Jove, I think so, too, now that you point it out,” said Chick. “They must have been written by the wearer of the Mexican costume, who hired it from Perrot under the name of Talbot.” “Certainly, since it was he who wrote the note given by him to Mollie Waldmere.” “Unquestionably.” “Plainly, then, the chauffeur’s note was not sent in to him at all,” Nick continued. “He wrote it himself. He did so only to put it in the pocket of his costume, knowing it would be found later and that murder would then be suspected, a suspicion seemingly confirmed by the finding of the gashed and bloodstained cape worn by Waldmere.” “You now think, then, that the whole business is only a blind?” “The murder part of it.” “And that Waldmere is alive?” “I do.” “And confined somewhere pending a settlement for the job?” “That is precisely what I suspect.” “By Jove, I am inclined to think you are right,” Chick now said earnestly. “But what’s to be done, Nick, in that case?” “I already have decided,” said Nick. “I was waiting only for you to return.” “What’s your scheme?” “Chadwick is a stranger in New York. He cannot go about alone, nor will he venture into the underworld, where, if I am right, Waldmere is in custody. An interview with him may be necessary, however, possibly several of them, and it’s long odds that they will be held in Chadwick’s quarters in the Oriental, since he thinks he has blinded me and feels safe from suspicion.” “Quite likely, Nick, but what’s your scheme?” Chick repeated. “We’ll plant a dictograph in Chadwick’s apartments.” “Ah, I see.”