Green Eye had always preferred to work alone, as many of the most successful criminals have done. He had friends, however, and one of these had carried out his directions. The gates of Clinton Prison had not even closed behind Gordon, when the latter had begun to plan for a possible escape, and the planting of this box played an important part in the arrangement. During his many months in the prison, Green Eye had not succeeded in liberating himself, but now that the fire had enabled him to escape, the box was waiting for him, thanks to his unusual foresight. Thus it was that he had completely eluded pursuit. The authorities were looking for a commonplace, unimaginative yegg, who went by the name of Shang Libby, and who might be expected to retain some, at least, of his prison garments. It is little wonder, therefore, that they failed to capture the polished and superdaring Gordon, who lost no time in starting for New York City in a sleeping car. The fugitive’s first thought when he reached the metropolis was one of revenge. He had no idea of killing Nick Carter for the part the latter had played in his downfall, for murder had never been in his line. There are many other kinds of revenge, however, and Gordon was determined to avail himself of one or more of them. He wished to humiliate Nick to the utmost, if possible, and, incidentally, to do so in such a way that his success would line his pockets with gold. He had a plan, when he presented himself at Nick’s door, but it was lacking in many details, for these he had decided to leave to the inspiration of the moment. In any case, however, he meant to palm himself off as a would-be client, and, having thus gained the detective’s confidence, to proceed with the rest of the scheme, or some modification of it. “Is Mr. Carter in?” he asked anxiously, when the butler opened the door. “No, sir,” the servant replied, noting with approval the visitor’s apparent prosperity and air of importance. “Mr. Carter is out of town at present.” “Is it possible? For how long?” “He went away day before yesterday, and expected to be absent for two weeks.” “How unfortunate! I have a case of the utmost importance—the sort of thing no one else can handle,” the caller said, with the semblance of profound disappointment. “One of his assistants might help me to some extent, however, or bring the matter to Mr. Carter’s attention by telegraph.” Again the butler shook his head regretfully. He was being very indiscreet, but he did not suspect it for a moment, owing to the impression the stranger made upon him. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question, too, sir,” he answered. “There is no one at home who could attend to you. It’s the first time it has happened in years.” The stranger seemed greatly distressed.