“That don’t look as if many of the family are at home,” thought Nick, stepping lightly over the gravel walk that wound between the trees of a park and led to a side door of the house. “It may be that only his wife and children are here, though servants are essential to--humph!” Nick abruptly digressed. “It is barely possible that he has sent them away, servants and all, if he really is engaged in the knavery I suspect. Discretion certainly would impel some such step.” Nick turned the corner of the conservatory, then saw a brighter beam of light from under the lowered shade of a library window. He crept near enough to peer into the room. There was only one occupant--the man the detective was seeking. Mr. John Madison was seated at a flat, cloth-topped desk in the middle of the spacious room. It was covered with pamphlets, documents, and writing materials. A tall library lamp with a pale-green silk shade stood near by. Its rays lent an unnatural hue to the man’s face, a sort of ghastly, greenish pallor seen neither in life nor death. He was a powerful, imposing man, with broad shoulders and a large head. He was smoothly shaved, with strong, aggressive features, a square jaw, and thin lips, heavy brows, and a mop of black hair. He sat gazing intently at the top of his desk, but Nick saw at a glance that his mind was elsewhere. His thin lips were drawn. His heavy brows hung like frowning battlements over his vacant eyes. His large hands were gripping the arms of his chair. Nick moved on quietly to the side door and touched the electric bell. It was not answered for several moments. Then a heavy tread could be heard in the side hall. “No servant ever treads like that,” thought Nick. “He could not hold his job.” The door was opened by Mr. Madison himself. He turned a switch key in the near casing, and a flood of light filled the side hall and fell on the figure and face of his visitor. Madison recoiled slightly, then instantly caught himself. “Why, good evening, Mr. Carter,” said he, with his sonorous voice only a bit unsteady on the first two words. “Good evening, Mr. Madison.” “This is a surprise. Walk in,” said the lawyer. “I am glad to see you.” Nick entered, smiling and shaking the other’s extended hand. It felt cold and clammy in that of the detective. “I came out this way on business, Mr. Madison, so I dropped in only for a short call,” Nick observed. “I want to discuss the approaching election with you, or one feature of it.” “Ah! Is that so?” “I hardly expected, nevertheless, to find you at this hour,” Nick added. “I have not been in town to-day,” Madison replied deliberately. “No?” “I have not been feeling well. My wife and children are visiting in Boston for a few days, and I have given the servants a like holiday. Come into the library. Sit down and help yourself. There are matches in the tray.”