It struck the half hour at that moment, a single stroke, like a sudden death knell--the half after ten. CHAPTER II. THE MAN WHO ESCAPED. Nick Carter decided instantly what must be done, also not done. He continued talking with Beckwith without a perceptible pause. Nick questioned him briefly, obtained Pauline Perrot’s Fordham address, and he then directed him to give no publicity to the matter, but to await the arrival of Chick Carter, his chief assistant, whom he would immediately send to Gordon’s office to investigate the case. Nick then called up the library in his Madison Avenue house and talked with Chick. He gave him a brief outline of the circumstances, together with such instructions as were necessary, and he then directed him to report in person at Gordon’s residence in the Bronx. “It will take him a couple of hours at least,” he remarked to Patsy, after hanging up the receiver. “We can get in our work elsewhere, in the meantime, and return before he arrives.” Naturally, of course, several pertinent questions had arisen in Nick’s mind, and which could not consistently be ignored, in spite of his high opinion of Arthur Gordon. Was he really the writer of the letter received by Mina Strickland? Had conditions really arisen which made imperative the course he said he was about to shape? Had he realized at that late day, indeed, that he was not as deeply in love with Wilhelmina as he had supposed? Had he, too, become helplessly infatuated with Pauline Perrot, and as an only desperate resort determined to desert Miss Strickland and elope with the stenographer? Was it he, in that case, who had taken the cash, bonds, and securities from the vault in his office? Had he sacrificed all but that small part of his fortune, to say nothing of character, friends, and family, for a mad love for another woman? In view of the fact that Gordon had been acting voluntarily, and in a measure had deceived the Stricklands as to his intentions the previous afternoon, Nick could not but give the foregoing questions serious consideration. He had, as observed before, known of such cases. They were common enough, in fact, and what man has done, man may do. Nick’s face reflected none of his thoughts, however, when he turned from the telephone and stated what he had learned; and the effect upon Wilhelmina was about what he was anticipating. “Good heavens, is it possible?” she exclaimed, ghastly with increasing apprehensions. “All that money gone from his vault? Don’t keep me in suspense, Mr. Carter. Tell me just what you think about it. Tell me----” “I must look deeper into the matter, Miss Strickland, before I can tell you anything definite,” Nick interposed evasively. “I have not changed my opinion, such as it was, and I will lose no time in sifting the matter to the bottom. Try to be patient until I have done so.”