“While we are waiting for the coroner, we may as well go to the office and inspect the signature.” Leaving Maynard and the reporter in the room, Nick and the clerk descended to the office. The signature, when inspected through a powerful glass, proved to be a very ordinary one, but Nick made certain that it was written by a woman. “How did that reporter get in here?” asked Nick. “I suspect that the elevator boy gave him a tip,” was the reply. Nick called the boy, who looked confused, and neither admitted nor denied the accusation. Presently a deputy coroner arrived, and Nick accompanied him to room 43. While the reporter was asking him impossible questions, Nick took the clothing left by the murderer to the office, and left it with the clerk, carefully wrapped. “Give that to no one,” he said. “I will call for the package in person.” Then the reporter and Maynard came down the elevator, and the former started off. “I’m going,” he said. “Come along.” “Shall I come?” whispered Maynard. “It is a trap,” said Nick, “and you may as well go home so as to be fit to-morrow.” “Why do you say it is a trap?” “Because that chap is not a reporter. How do I know? If he was a reporter he would have telephoned in something for the first edition the minute he saw the body, without waiting for anything more. Besides, what has he learned about the dead man or the circumstances of the murder?” “But if it is a trap, why do you go?” “Because, if it is a trap, it is set by the murderer or some of her confederates, and going with this young man will place me in touch with the gang.” “But it is dangerous.” “All my work is dangerous.” “Why don’t you take officers with you?” “I shall not be alone,” replied Nick significantly, and turned away with the red-headed young fellow. As the detective and his young companion passed out of the square of light in front of the hotel, Maynard, standing irresolute at the window, saw two men who had been hidden in a stairway across Broadway leave their shelter and follow them. Alarmed at the occurrence, Maynard stepped out into the street and passed on in the direction taken by the detective, the reporter, and their pursuers. He saw them turn east, and then they were lost to his sight. With a heavy heart the young millionaire returned to the hotel. Policemen were standing guard out in the hall. There was a door connecting room 43 with 44. Maynard secured the latter room and threw himself on the bed. He lay for a long time listening to the talk of the officers, but finally fell into an uneasy slumber. When he awoke again there was a bright light in 43. His door was a trifle ajar, and he could hear voices in the room where the dead man lay. He arose and stepped toward the door. Then a voice that he knew came to his ears. It was the voice of a woman. “I think we’ve settled Nicholas for good and all,” she said. “That was a clever thought.”