Patsy hastened away to prepare his change of apparel. Nick regarded his own disguise ruefully. It was without doubt necessary in this case, but he disliked to go about in the guise of another man. He preferred to win his cases by reasoning them out rather than by cheap detective methods. As soon as Patsy was ready, Nick took up his bundle with a sigh, and the two made their way to the Cumberland, Patsy following along on the opposite side of the street. “Step into the corridor and note the room I am shown to,” said Nick, waiting for the seeming messenger to come up with him at the entrance to the hotel. “After I have been in there a minute, tell the clerk you have a message for the man in that room. Come in armed and ready for a scrap.” “A scrap at the Cumberland?” echoed Patsy. “We can’t tell what will happen,” replied Nick. It was now growing dark, and when Nick entered the room where Chick awaited him, the gas was burning dimly. In a moment the detective had his clothes off and was dressing himself in the ones brought from his office. As the work progressed, Patsy knocked at the door, and was admitted. Directly, Nick stood before his assistants ready for action. It seemed to them that it was Mantelle who stood there. “It is a hard rôle to play,” said Nick, “because it is difficult to hold my face as Mantelle carries his. Anything wrong?” “Not a thing!” said Chick. “You look like the original,” said Patsy. “Now,” said Nick, “I’d like to get in there and hear the talk, but I do not care to risk it, as a failure would ruin all my plans.” “What’s the game?” asked Patsy. “We’ll have to remain here until they leave,” was the reply. “That may be at midnight.” “Yes, but we must wait.” “And then?” “When we see that they are going, the messenger steps out and invites Mantelle into this room.” “And we put him to sleep, and you step out in his place?” “That’s it.” “It’s a risky thing to do,” said Chick. Nick remained silent. CHAPTER XXI. A CLEVER WOMAN. “There is no knowing where the trail may lead you,” Chick said presently. “I am in hope,” said Nick, “that it will lead again to the headquarters of the Great Diamond Syndicate. I have an idea that I would like a short talk with the man I met in the Houston Street house last night.” “I wonder what’s become of the alleged reporter?” asked Chick. “He appeared to me to be rather an amusing chap.” “You’ll probably find him with the old duffer who entertained Nick last night,” suggested Patsy. “Listen! I think they are passing out.” The people in the private parlor were indeed leaving the room, one at a time, and quietly. There was no talking in the hall, and the door was closed after every departure. Nick smiled at the game he was playing.