Quickly he removed the tapestry cover and droplight from the small table between the windows, and, drawing up a chair, set to work. It was clear that his desire to write some letters was genuine enough, and the fact that he cut the engraved headings from several sheets of paper suggested that the privacy of the room was welcome. At the end of an hour he was still writing, and beside him were several sealed and stamped envelopes addressed to a number of well-known names. The campaign was going forward. “I shall have to find some means of getting rid of this man Chick Carter, though,” Green Eye told himself, as he finished one of the letters and leaned back in a chair. “These fellows I have written to will come flocking here before long, and I must be Nick Carter again, in order to receive them properly.” CHAPTER XLIV. NICK’S SUSPICIONS CONFIRMED. If the criminal could have read Nick Carter’s mind about that time, he would have been still more uneasy—and with good reason. Ernest Gordon had not been the only one who had played a part during the interview which had ended in the detective’s act of copying his caller’s features, and borrowing his clothes. For the first few minutes, it must be confessed that the detective was completely deceived. He knew Green Eye to be a master of surprises, but it had not occurred to him to suspect that the clever rascal would resort to anything so spectacular. Besides, Gordon had placed himself so that the light did not fall strongly. It was not until the caller suggested a change of identities that the detective began to question. It was very seldom that a client presumed to offer such assistance, and Nick’s knowledge of Chester Gillespie had not prepared him for such a proposition. He gave no evidence, however, that the seed of suspicion had been planted, but fell in with the suggestion, knowing that in carrying it out, he would have the best possible opportunity of studying his visitor. He noted a slight hesitation on the latter’s part when he had asked him to take his place in the brightest light obtainable, and the subsequent scrutiny had soon confirmed his suspicions. “Gillespie” was plainly Ernest Gordon. No make-up could have stood that test—at least, with Nick Carter at the observer’s end. “What fools the cleverest of us are sometimes!” the detective thought, with an inward chuckle. “Gordon has such a good opinion of himself, and is so certain that a man needs only to be daring enough in order to carry everything before him, that he’s actually willing to undergo this sort of thing—and he thinks he’s getting away with it!”