It took him half an hour to complete the work. He found that several fragments from the bottom of the letter were missing, presumably having been blown away from the vacant lot where he had found the others, or dropped elsewhere by the recipient of the letter. It was decidedly suggestive, in view of the double crime and the surrounding circumstances. It was written with a pen, evidently by a woman, and read as follows: “DEAR HARRY: You must meet me this evening, Tuesday, at the time and place I mentioned. Do not disappoint me. There is no question as to the conditions of which I informed you, and immediate steps to meet the situation are absolutely imperative. Meet me this evening, therefore, without fail. I will not take ‘no’ for an answer. Unless you comply, I shall do what I have threatened. I will take steps to compel you to rectify the terrible----” The remainder of the letter was missing several fragments from the bottom of the torn sheet. They evidently had contained, however, only a few concluding words and the signature of the writer. Nick read it, then reread it, with brows knitting, and a more serious expression on his thoughtful face. “Tuesday evening,” he muttered. “That must have been last evening. The scraps of paper would have blown away, or have become soiled, if dropped on the ground a week ago. The appointment was for last evening, surely, and the significance of the letter--by Jove, it might be!” Nick’s train of thought abruptly digressed. “He frequently is called Harry. He was not at the Barclay residence last evening, not since night before last. Can this be what is troubling him? Is he in some way involved with another woman? Was Harold Garland the recipient of this letter? Have I blundered egregiously in my estimate of his character? Is he a wolf under the surface? Now aiming to wed Stella Barclay, has he found it necessary to rid himself of a woman and kill a priest, in order to preclude an exposure of previous vices? I don’t believe it, by Jove, but I’ll mighty soon find out.” Nick arose abruptly, folding the pasted letter and putting it into his pocket. He then selected a simple disguise from among several in his suit case, one of which he felt sure was adequate to serve his purpose. He adjusted it carefully at his mirror, and then left the hotel and headed straight for Harold Garland’s office in the War Department Building. CHAPTER V. IN THE TOILS. It was noon when Nick Carter entered the vast building on Pennsylvania Avenue, in which the state, war, and navy departments of the nation are located. Nick proceeded at once to the west wing and the office he was seeking, which he entered without the ceremony of knocking. He found a young woman at work with a typewriter. “Is Mr. Garland inside?” Nick inquired, glancing at the closed door of a private office. “No, sir,” said the stenographer, turning from her table. “But he is likely to come in at any moment.” “Where has he gone?”