"Because my house may be under espionage," said Nick, a bit grimly. "There is no telling what steps Goulard may take to prevent the miscarriage of his designs. He is a crafty, as well as a daring dog. Do merely what I have requested, Mantell. Leave me to do the rest." It was after two o’clock when Nick entered his residence, at once proceeding to his library, where he found Chick awaiting him, and whom he quickly informed of all that had transpired. "But hasn’t Patsy returned?" he then inquired. "Not yet," said Chick. "And you haven’t heard of him?" "Not a word." "By Jove, that’s strange, deucedly strange," Nick said, more seriously. "It ought not to have taken him till now, nor anything like it, to pick up the information I wanted. Something unexpected must have happened." CHAPTER V. PATSY GARVAN’S PROBLEM. There were very good reasons why Patsy Garvan had not returned to report the result of his inquiries concerning Sadie Badger and her doings in the flat she had been occupying since the round-up of the Badger gang and the supposed drowning of Gaston Goulard. Arriving in the locality soon after one o’clock, Patsy readily located the house at the door of which Nick had left his partner in crime close upon four o’clock that morning, and he at once began a brief inspection of it from the opposite side of the street. It was the third house in a long brick block in a fairly desirable locality. All three of its flats evidently were occupied. The roller shades at the two windows of that on the ground floor were closely drawn, however, and there was no sign of life from within. "She probably is making up lost sleep, if there," thought Patsy, after sauntering by the house and noticing its negative aspect. "There don’t seem to be much doing for me, unless I can get next to some one who has become acquainted with her, or had enough interest in her to watch her. It won’t do to risk asking questions of the other tenants, as they might put her wise. Sadie Badger wouldn’t be slow to suspect that she might have slipped a cog. Let her alone for that. Gee! I’ll take a chance with this fellow." Patsy had arrived at the open door of a provision store on a corner not more than fifty yards from the opposite house. There was a display of vegetables in boxes outside. Seated on a barrel just within the door was a young man in a butcher’s frock, whose round, ruddy face favorably impressed the detective. He was alone in the store, evidently a clerk, and he then was absorbed in a noon edition of a sensational newspaper. As he stepped into the store, Patsy saw the headlines of the article the clerk was reading, and he paused near him and said agreeably: "Reading about the robbery?" It was that in which Nick Carter had taken part the previous night, and Patsy already had seen the article. "Yes, I was," replied the clerk, looking up. "Have you read about it?" "Sure." "Kind of a curious job, wasn’t it? The crook didn’t get away with much."