“I will try, Mr. Carter, at least,” she replied. “But all this must be the culmination of the terrible secret dread I have been feeling.” “Secret dread?” “I say that only because I have not mentioned it to any one, being unable to ascribe a definite cause for it,” Mina explained. “But it has been hanging over me like a depressing cloud ever since I first saw Pauline Perrot--ever since, in fact, the escape of that terrible criminal, Mortimer Deland, from the prison hospital.” “Yes, I remember,” said Nick, regarding her more intently. “You were employed by Arthur, you remember, to run him down,” she went on. “I have heard that Mortimer Deland never forgets, nor ever forgives. Since that extraordinary escape, Mr. Carter, I have lived in fear of him, for fear that he might attempt to kill Mr. Gordon, or in some terrible way avenge----” “Pshaw!” Nick checked her kindly. “Put Deland out of your head. It is unfortunate, of course, that he fooled the hospital guards, and contrived to give them the slip.” “Unfortunate, indeed.” “But as far as seeking vengeance goes, it is much more probable that he immediately fled to Europe, whence he came,” Nick added. “Besides, I am the man he would seek, and not Gordon, for it was I who cornered and convicted him. There is no occasion for those apprehensions, Miss Strickland.” “I hope not, I’m sure,” said Mina. “You are going?” Nick had taken his hat from a table on which he had placed it. “Yes,” he replied. “I will return in a couple of hours, however, and Chick may arrive in the meantime. We will leave no stone unturned to ferret out the truth.” He led the way out to his touring car, in which Danny, his chauffeur, had been waiting in front of the house. “To Fordham, Danny,” he directed. “Let her go lively.” “Why to Fordham, chief?” questioned Patsy, when both were seated in the tonneau and the car was speeding down the long driveway to the rural road. “To inspect Pauline Perrot’s apartments and interview her landlady,” said Nick, with rather ominous intonation. “Do you suspect her of being a crook?” “I think she is back of this whole business, Patsy, of whatever it consists.” “Gee, that looks like a cinch!” declared Patsy. “Either she is playing a deep game, chief, and working it out with wonderful success, or Gordon has lost his head completely and bolted with the woman.” “The last may possibly be true, since other men have been equally foolish,” said Nick. “I find it hard to believe of Arthur Gordon, however.” “That goes, too.” “I doubt very much that he would have gone so far as to buy a big estate, build and furnish a fine residence, and then bolt with a girl he has known less than six months.” “But he evidently met her voluntarily yesterday afternoon.” “She may have wheedled him into doing so.” “But how, if Gordon did not remove them, could she have got the bonds and securities from his vault?”