“Don’t you see any connection between the visits of this mysterious stranger and the package?” asked Nick slowly. “May it not be that the Yellow Tong--and you know how powerful and far-reaching it is--has set its agents to get from you the records that it is so important to the organization to keep from the government at Washington?” Bentham smoked a few seconds before replying. The same suspicion had been in his own mind, but he had brushed it away. Now, here was this cool-headed, straight-seeing master detective suggesting the same thing. “It is possible you are right, Carter,” admitted the professor. “I’ll take those records to Washington to-morrow night. I can’t go before, because I am going to a reception this evening given by the famous Indian savant from the Punjab, Ched Ramar. You have heard of him?” “Yes. He has been in the newspapers a great deal the last few weeks. Who and what is he?” “One of the most eminent scholars from that country,” answered Bentham enthusiastically. “He has traveled a great deal, especially in Tibet. He has a collection of idols from that country which are well worth seeing, I am told. I am delighted with the prospect of looking them over to-night.” “I should think you would be. Is there a special invitation needed to get into his house this evening?” “Well, I don’t know. I got a card addressed to me. But there is a line on the card to the effect that any friend of mine will be welcome. It is written in pencil. The remainder of the card is lithographed. If you would like to go, I should be pleased to take you in. My daughter is going, with her aunt, Mrs. Morrison. She is Clarice’s mother’s sister.” “I accept your invitation with pleasure,” said Nick Carter. “But--here is a request I have to make. You won’t think it very strange, knowing my profession. I should like to go in disguise, and under another name than my own.” “Don’t want to be recognized, eh?” smiled Bentham. “Why? You don’t think there will be anybody there who would be afraid of you as Nicholas Carter, the detective, do you? Ched Ramar is a man who moves in the highest circles and is known all over India. His house, in Brooklyn Heights, is one that questionable characters would find it hard to enter. He has two tall men of his own race perpetually on guard at his door--besides many other servants engaged in this country.” “It is merely a fancy of mine, perhaps,” returned Nick. “I will be Doctor Hodgson, if you don’t mind. Shall I come here to-night?” “If you will. I’ll take you in our car. Mrs. Morrison and Clarice will be with us. Get here about half past eight. We don’t want to go too early. It will be ten o’clock or so before things get into full swing at Ched Ramar’s house.” “All right! I’ll be here at eight-thirty,” replied Nick, as he got up to go. “I’ll have just about time to go home and dress, and get back again.” “It takes you a long time to dress,” laughed Professor Bentham. “I can get ready in half an hour any time.”