“No, no, I don’t mean exactly that,” Webber quickly protested. “But the circumstances, Nick, certainly speak for themselves. What I really think is that Clayton has lost his mind; that his brain is turned by overwork, anxiety, and the thought of having property of such extraordinary value in the hotel vault. I think he removed the jewel cases in a state of mental aberration, from which he has not yet recovered. I don’t think he now realizes that he did so, or knows what he has done with them.” “Well, that is a more considerate view of the matter, at least,” Nick replied incredulously. “Did you overhear any conversation in the private office, Mr. Vernon, during the time Clayton claims to have been there?” “I did not, Mr. Carter.” “Could you ordinarily have heard it? Are voices audible to persons in the outer office when the door of the private office is closed?” “Not unless they are raised considerably above an ordinary tone,” said Vernon. “One must speak quite loud to be heard outside.” “Where is Clayton now?” Nick inquired. “With Mademoiselle Falloni,” said the clerk. “He rushed up to her suite after his vain search for the visitor he claims to have had, and almost immediately he sent down the message I telephoned to you. He has not since been down here.” “Call up my house again, Mr. Vernon,” Nick abruptly directed. “Tell whoever answers you that I want Chick and Patsy Garvan to come here immediately. Tell them to wait here for me, if they arrive before I return. Get a hall boy. I will go up to Mademoiselle Falloni’s suite at once.” “Front!” shouted the clerk. “The bomb has burst, indeed,” thought Nick, as he hastened toward the elevator. CHAPTER III. THE WOMAN WHO FAINTED. The incidents depicted had transpired quickly. Only about half an hour had passed since the extraordinary crime was discovered, assuming it to have been a crime, rather than the irresponsible act of a man mentally unbalanced, as Detective Webber suspected. Nick Carter did not have any faith in that theory, however, though he deferred forming any definite theory of his own until he had looked a little deeper into the circumstances. The startling news had spread through the house by that time, as appeared in the numerous guests who had gathered in the corridors, engaged in earnest discussions of the case, and observed by the detective while the elevator sped up to the fourth floor. Nick was promptly admitted to the magnificent suite occupied by Mademoiselle Falloni and her two maids, and the scene in her apartments was about what he was expecting. He found Mademoiselle Falloni completely prostrated by her loss. She was lying faint and pale on a luxurious couch in the parlor, in the care of her maids and a physician living in the house. Madame Escobar, who had been called into the suite, was nearly as deeply distressed, but she had greater command of her feelings. She was in tears in an armchair.