“I at once decided, therefore, to meet the scamp with his own weapons,” Nick added. “I felt sure I could fool him and finally clinch my suspicions, providing I could throw him off his guard for a time. I have given him three days’ grace, so to speak, in which to get rid of any misgivings he may have felt. He ought to be well rid of them by this time. Now, by Jove, I propose to get after him and drive him from cover.” “That’s the stuff, chief.” “We must discover his game, how and why he committed the crime, and whether he had confederates,” Nick said, more forcibly. “We must make dead sure, in fact, that I am justified in suspecting him.” “That is why you have established a new butler in the Clayton house,” observed Patsy, with an expressive grin. “Exactly.” “Does Clayton suspect his identity?” “Not yet. I told him merely that I knew a man admirably qualified for the position. I had no difficulty in persuading Clayton to employ him on trial.” “On trial, eh?” laughed Patsy. “Gee whiz! he’ll make good, chief, all right. My money goes on that.” “If he fails, Patsy, it will be the first time,” Nick replied, smiling. “Slip into a disguise, now, and get ready to go with me. I shall leave in about five minutes.” “I’ll be ready, chief, all right. Danny has just arrived with the touring car.” “We will drop you about a block from the Clayton place,” Nick added. “You already know why I am going there and what I require of you. If you get a line on this suspect--well, that should open the way. You must be governed by circumstances.” “You leave him to me, chief,” said Patsy confidently, as he hastened from the chamber in which Nick had been dressing. “I’ll get all that’s coming to me. Trust me for that.” In the foregoing may be found not only the occasion for Nick Carter’s call upon Clayton, with a hint at the subterfuge involved, but also why he departed without a backward glance, or the slightest sign of interest in the surrounding grounds. For Patsy Garvan had arrived there immediately after Nick entered the house, and upon him devolved the most important part of the work laid out for that evening by the detective. It was a fit night, moreover, for the task engaging Patsy. The sky was clouded, with not a solitary star relieving the inky gloom of the heavens. A gray fog hung like a thin veil near the earth, sufficiently dense to lend a sallow glow to the arc lights, and add to the obscurity in localities beyond the reach of their searching rays. A gusty wind was blowing, driving the gray mist in confusing swirls over the Hudson, and sighing dismally through the dripping foliage of the trees adorning the grounds of the crime-cursed home of the Claytons.