“I have heard so. In fact, Mr. Anderton made no secret of it. He even told me where he kept the data he had gathered, and offered to let me look it over. Part of my reason for being in this neighborhood now was to see Mr. Anderton and ask him to show me those records.” “It is eleven o’clock at night,” the detective reminded him. “Isn’t it rather late to come on such a mission?” “It was the habit of Mr. Anderton to work at night, and I have often met him away from home at a later hour than this. Students pay little attention to the time of day or night when they are interested in any subject they may be discussing. Did Mr. Anderton leave those papers where they could be seen, I wonder. They deal only with scientific subjects, of course.” “Did I not understand you to say that they were intended for the government?” asked Nick. “It would hardly be proper for anybody else to see them, I should say.” “They were to be sent to the Smithsonian Institute, I believe. But I was told by Mr. Anderton himself that there was nothing secret about them. He intended the facts he had gathered to be given to the world at large. My understanding was that they were to be published simultaneously with their being sent to Washington.” “You’re a liar,” muttered Chick, under his breath. “And you know it.” Chick had been gazing steadily at the tall professor without being observed, and the result of his inspection was that he did not like the look of the stranger. It occurred to Chick, too, that Professor Tolo was too sure of Nick Carter’s name after hearing it for the first time that night. “I could not interfere with any of Mr. Anderton’s papers, professor,” said Nick. “I am sorry that you have been disappointed. I should think the best way for you to see these records you want would be to communicate with Washington.” The professor bowed and shrugged his shoulders, while a smile spread over the yellow face beneath the large spectacles. “Probably you are right, Mr. Carter. I thank you for the suggestion. Any suggestion from so able a detective as everybody knows you to be cannot but be valuable. I am right, am I not, in supposing that you are the Mr. Nicholas Carter whom all the world knows? Your home is in Madison Avenue, is it not?” “Yes. That is where I live, and my name is Nicholas.” Nick Carter said this in the cold tone in which he had conducted most of his part of the conversation. It was easy to be seen that he was not favorably impressed with the rather too smug Professor Tolo. They were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was Ruggins, who announced that a man, who seemed much excited--a young man--wanted to see Mr. Carter on an important matter. “Which Mr. Carter?” demanded Nick. “Both, ’e said. ’E asked if you were both ’ere, and when I told him yes, ’e said that was what he wanted. So I came up and left ’im in the ’all till I could find out whether you would see ’im.” “It might be Patsy,” whispered Chick to his chief.