“See why Chick hasn’t come down, Patsy,” directed Nick Carter, as he and Patsy Garvan faced each other at breakfast the next morning. “He must have been very tired last night to sleep like this now.” Patsy left the room, but soon returned, with a queer look of dismay on his face. “He isn’t there,” was his report. “His bed hasn’t been slept in, either.” “Are you sure of that?” asked Nick sharply. “Positive. I met Mrs. Peters on the stairs, and she told me none of the bedrooms have been touched by the maids yet. They never are at this time in the morning. Why, chief, it’s only eight o’clock.” But Patsy was speaking to emptiness by this time. Nick Carter had run up the stairs two at a time, and examined Chick’s bedchamber for himself. He came down in another minute or two, a heavy frown on his brow. “Let’s have breakfast, Patsy.” “What about Chick?” “Let’s have breakfast,” was all Nick Carter replied. “Gee!” muttered Patsy. “I don’t know whether I can eat anything. This thing has put a kink in my appetite that----” Just then Mrs. Peters, the housekeeper, entered with a dish of ham and eggs, which she placed before Nick Carter. As she lifted the silver dish cover, she asked quietly: “Didn’t you know Mr. Chick was out, Mr. Carter?” “No. Do you know what time he went out?” “I heard the front door close about two o’clock, I think it was,” she answered. “I wondered who it was. But there is nothing unusual in you or somebody to go out at any hour of the night.” “Sure as you live,” interjected Patsy. “But I knew you intended all to stay home last night, and that was why I couldn’t make it out. So I thought I’d serve the ham and eggs myself, and ask you.” Mrs. Peters, the worthy housekeeper, had been with Nick Carter for many years, and took a motherly interest in him which excused her curiosity. The detective smiled kindly, as he replied: “I’m glad you’ve told me this much, Mrs. Peters. I confess I don’t know what has become of Chick. But I soon will. He has good reason for being away, no doubt.” He nodded a dismissal, and Mrs. Peters disappeared. Patsy did not ask any more questions for the present. He busied himself with breakfast. At the end of the meal Nick Carter asked him if he could take him direct to the Sun Jin laundry. “I can do that, chief,” replied Patsy. “But we’ll find the chinks there pretty suspicious. How are we going to get in?” “We’ll see when we get there,” replied Nick Carter quietly. “I don’t say you can’t get into the laundry,” went on Patsy. “We’ll find one or two chinks in there, ironing and washing, as they always are. But you know that what you see in the shop of a chink laundry doesn’t tell you what is going on behind or upstairs.” Nick Carter only nodded and smiled. He did not depend on Patsy, or anybody else, to make him understand the ways of Chinamen in New York.