“Andy Margate is, as I have said, a very keen and crafty fellow,” Nick explained. “It is probable that he is a friend of Carney and that he engaged the lawyer in his behalf. He may have paid Brigham for the letter to insure him a brief interview with Carney, or he may have fooled him into giving it with no felonious intent. It really is not material. One fact is obvious, however.” “Namely?” “That Margate had some communication of his own for Carney.” “What do you advise doing, in that case?” “Nothing, Hardy, on your part,” said Nick. “I think I see my way clear to doing all that should be done, in so far as this incident is concerned. Who is the judge before whom Carney will appear to-morrow?” “Judge Greeley.” “Where does he reside?” “I will find you his address,” said Captain Hardy. “I haven’t got it in my head.” Nick accompanied him to the outer office, where they consulted a city directory. Twenty minutes later Nick alighted from a taxicab in front of the jurist’s residence. He found Judge Greeley at home, to whom he introduced himself, confiding the occasion for his visit and his reasons for the request he was about to make in regard to the case of Carney. It seems needless to say that the request was readily granted, the nature of which will presently appear. CHAPTER VI. NICK SHOWS HIS HAND. It was after eleven o’clock when Nick Carter, in immaculate evening dress, sauntered alone into the fashionable restaurant. He had found certain persons whom he had been seeking, more of them than he had been expecting to find. He had discovered them in a box at the opera, and had followed them in a taxicab after the curtain had fallen upon Leonora’s tragic death. The scene over which Nick cast a seemingly indifferent eye was a brilliant one. The glare of light, the throng of well-dressed men, of beautiful women in gorgeous attire and radiant with jewels, the clink of fragile glasses, the rippling laughter of pretty girls, the murmur of cultivated voices, all mingled with the fascinating strains of orchestral music--Nick Carter took it all in with a few swift glances while the head waiter approached to conduct him to a seat. “There is a vacant table near that at which Senator Barclay and his friends are seated,” Nick quietly remarked, deftly slipping a generous tip into the waiter’s hand. The crisp bank note was felt and properly appreciated. “Certainly, sir. This way, sir.” “Forget that I suggested it,” Nick added. “My mind is a blank, sir.” “A waiter who knows his business,” thought Nick. He followed him to a small table near one of the lace-draped windows. At a large one in an alcove scarce ten feet away seven persons were seated. They included Senator Barclay and his daughter Estella, a handsome brunette in the twenties, who with her father appeared to be entertaining the others.