Nick smiled and shook his head; then arose to go. As he passed out he glanced again through the glass partition at the several girls at the switchboards. Helen Bailey had resumed her work as if nothing had occurred. Nick still had her in mind when he left the building and walked up the street. He had in mind, too, the impulsive, almost frantic words that had broken from her when, with returning consciousness, she took up her train of thoughts just where she had left them--the thoughts which had brought that terrible expression to her fair, lovely face. “‘Did they get him?’” he said to himself. “By Jove, that was a rather significant question, asked as she asked it and under such circumstances. Get whom? Get him for what? Was some man in danger, one with whom she is in love, perhaps, and for whose sake she was so shocked and alarmed? There certainly was some serious reason for that horrified expression and her sudden collapse. I would have been glad to aid her if she would have confided in me, but she preferred to lie, and--well, it was up to her. It is barely possible that she will regret it later.” CHAPTER II. A FRIEND IN NEED. Nick Carter’s intuition in regard to the telephone girl was verified much sooner than he really expected. He entered his Madison Avenue residence about an hour later and found in the library his two chief assistants, Chickering Carter and Patsy Garvan. He heard the following remarks from Patsy as he was approaching the open door. “She certainly is a peach, Chick, and I felt dead sorry for her. She’s in wrong, all right, but I don’t half credit the charges, at that.” “What charges, Patsy?” Nick inquired, entering. “Of whom were you speaking?” “Of a girl I saw at police headquarters about twenty minutes ago,” said Patsy, turning from his desk. “I went down there on that Waldron case.” “Was the girl under arrest?” “Yes.” “For what?” “For helping a crook elude the police,” Patsy explained. “She denied it, chief, sobbing as if her heart would break; but they’re putting her through the third degree now, hoping to break her down and force a confession from her. My money goes on the girl, chief, all the same.” “Who is the girl?” Nick questioned. “Did you learn any of the circumstances?” “Sure!” nodded Patsy. “Her name is Helen Bailey.” “H’m, is that so?” “She’s a telephone girl, and a sister of Barton Bailey, wanted for robbery in Mantell & Goulard’s big department store, where he was employed at the time. He got away with a diamond sunburst, you remember, and nearly cracked the skull of Gus Flint, one of the store detectives, who had seen him lift the bauble and tried to prevent his escape. That was six months ago.” “Yes, I recall the case,” said Nick, with a more serious expression. “But what are the circumstances bearing on the girl’s arrest?”