Nick Carter could do no more that night. He sought his room in Jefferson Avenue, but was an early riser. At nine o'clock next morning he called at the office of the manufacturing company. It was closed. He went away, returning at ten o'clock. In response to his knock, the door was opened by Gabriel Leonard. His face was pale, and there were dark circles about his eyes. He did not greet the detective with his usual heartiness. "Where is Dashwood?" was Nick's first question. "I don't know," was the answer, in a half-angry manner. "Didn't Dashwood go home last night?" "No. I haven't seen him since early yesterday afternoon." Leonard passed a trembling hand over his forehead, met Nick's frowning gaze for an instant, and then his eyes sought the floor. CHAPTER III. MYSTERY WITHIN MYSTERY. Nick Carter, while a visitor at the house of Gabriel Leonard, had a fair opportunity for studying the man. The result did not leave a favorable impression. Leonard's cynicism, his occasional exhibition of a plastic conscience, his at times brutal way of putting things, repelled friendship. Still he might be like many business men engaged in large enterprises, case-hardened in respect of the nicer notions of morality, and yet possessed of no really vicious instincts. But Nick, in looking at Leonard now, was not certain whether his former deductions had not been too favorable. The manufacturer was uneasy in mind, had shifted his gaze as if he were afraid to look an honest man squarely in the face. What did this strange absence of John Dashwood mean? And had Leonard any connection with it? Nick closed the door, and deliberately took a seat. Leonard, still at ease, paced the floor. "I suppose you made an unfortunate discovery last night," said Nick tentatively. "I"--giving the detective one sharp glance and then letting his eyes fall again--"I made a discovery, certainly. But how did you learn of it?" "From Luke Filbon, whose death, by suicide, is the feature of the local news in this morning's papers." "You saw him before he died?" asked Leonard eagerly. "Yes." "Then perhaps he told you where he had secreted the stolen money?" The detective stared at the manufacturer. "Am I to infer," he said, rather sharply, "that you did not find the money in the safe, where it had been placed by John Dashwood?" "The money was not in the safe," said Leonard. Tone and manner indicated that he was speaking the truth. This was an astonishing statement. A terrible suspicion entered the mind of the detective. "No money in the safe," he said, looking fixedly at the manufacturer, who had pulled himself together and had his head raised almost defiantly, "and how do you account for its absence?" "Ask me something easy." "Was the safe locked when you came in this morning?" "Yes." "And was the safe locked when you visited the office last night?" Leonard started violently.