"'Yes, sir,' said he, 'I saw two men in front of the roundhouse when I came out at eleven o'clock.' Asked to describe them, he said that both were tall. One looked like a foreigner. The other, though dark-faced, was an American. He wore a black mustache, and his hat was a derby." Nick expressed his satisfaction. "That settles it," he said. "Hayman, I am greatly obliged to you." The great detective did not seek his bed that night until after he had had a watch placed on Craven's house and had enlisted the services of the Washington detectives in the search for Arthur Mannion. It was Nick's opinion that Mannion had not left the city. The story told by Hayman furnished evidence that the graceless stepson of James Playfair had a confederate, and it would probably turn out that the two had murderously assaulted the old man. Perhaps one had held Playfair while the other had choked the victim to death. The next morning brought a new surprise. Nick's first visitor, before the detective had made ready to go out, was Jacob Feversham. He was in a high state of excitement and his opening words were: "I have made a strange discovery, Mr. Carter." "Ah! And what is it?" "James Playfair's house was robbed before the murder. I found this out last night while overhauling the things in his rooms. I am his executor, and I made an early investigation on account of the peculiar manner of his death. A week before he was murdered he had, in a drawer in his desk, over two thousand dollars. The money is gone, the lock of the drawer is broken." "What makes you think the robbery was committed before the murder?" "Because Playfair told me two days before his death that he must see a locksmith to have fixed a lock in his desk which had been broken. Every other lock was intact." "Did he not make any reference to the robbery?" "No. Nothing more was said, and the impression left on my mind was that he had himself broken the lock." "Might he not have taken the money out of the drawer before the robber appeared?" "I don't think so. In fact, I am positive that he did not. I'll tell you something about Playfair, Mr. Carter. He was a very peculiar man. He, of course, kept the larger portion of his cash in bank, but it was his custom to keep constantly on hand in his house two or three thousand dollars. He paid out much money in charity, as I have already told you, and he preferred to hand out the cash to deserving applicants rather than go to the trouble of drawing checks. He never carried much money in his pockets, never more than fifty or sixty dollars. No, he was robbed, and for some reason he desired to screen the robber." "Do you know of any person, vicious in morals, whom he would have been likely to screen?" asked Nick, with a queer look in his eyes. "Yes, I do. It's that scoundrel of a stepson, Arthur Mannion." CHAPTER XII. NICK HAS A FRIGID IDEA.