"There may have been a reason." "Most likely." "I happen to know there was," added Patsy, smiling. "You do?" questioned the clerk, with a look of surprise. "How does that happen?" "You’ll not give me away?" "Not on your life, as sure as my name is Frank Steel." "You look frank, all right, and your last name certainly rings true," laughed Patsy, displaying the badge under the lap of his vest. "That’s how I know. I’m in the business." "A detective?" Steel asked, with increasing interest. "That’s what," nodded Patsy. "I’m in the employ of the king-pin of all detectives." "Not Nick Carter?" "That calls the turn, Frank." "Gracious!" Steel exclaimed, extending his hand. "I’m glad to know you. I wish I had your job." "Ah, it’s not a soft one," said Patsy significantly. "I guess that’s right," laughed the other. "I have always wanted to meet Nick Carter. I never happened to see him." "I’ll take you round to the office some day and introduce you," said Patsy, bent upon winning his hearer’s confidence. "On the level?" "Surest thing you know." "By gracious, I’d like that." "And I infer that you would be glad to do Nick Carter a service, if possible, wouldn’t you?" "You bet I would," Steel declared, with immediate enthusiasm. "I’d be more than glad. You show me the way. I’ll do the rest, Mr.----” "My name is Garvan." "I have heard of you, too. You must be Patsy Garvan." "Right you are," laughed Patsy. "Shake again. I am mighty glad to know you." Patsy laughed agreeably, and he now felt sure he could safely trust the other. He glanced toward the rear of the store to be sure they were alone. An open door near the office led into a side street. Near the door stood a motor cycle, with a pair of leather gloves and gaiters lying on the seat, while a leather jacket hung on a peg in the near wall. "Do you own that machine?" inquired Patsy. "Yes, sure," Steel nodded. "I use it sometimes to deliver hurry-up orders. It comes in handy." "No doubt," Patsy allowed. "In regard to doing Nick Carter a service, Frank, there is something you can do for me." "Good enough! You have only to name it, Mr. Garvan." "This is strictly confidential, mind you." "That goes without saying." "And you must not afterward betray any interest in the house and person I shall mention." "Trust me, Garvan. I’ll be as dumb as an oyster." "That’s dumb enough," said Patsy approvingly. "Do you know who occupies the first flat in that third house opposite, the one with the curtains drawn down?" "Yes," Steel quickly nodded. "She trades here in a small way. Her name is Bolton." "Bolton, eh? That comes pretty near being Badger," thought Patsy; then, aloud: "Do you know anything about her?" "Only that she appears a bit fly and flashy. I don’t think much is known about her round here. She has been living there only a month." "Have you seen her coming and going?" "Yes, often." "Alone, or with others?" questioned Patsy.