He was in slippers, and wore a house-jacket of figured woolen, while his neck was bandaged with several thicknesses of red flannel, as if he was afflicted with a sore throat or with a cold. This was further evinced by his hoarse voice when addressing Conley, yet his gaze all the while was fixed upon the detective. Nick promptly took up the remark of the chauffeur, saying, with a quiet laugh: “No, I’m not specially looking for trouble. I have had enough of it for one day.” “Enough of trouble?” inquired Badger, with an air of wonderment at Nick’s meaning. “Quite enough, sir, and at considerable expense. I’m out a valuable watch and chain also what money I had on my person.” “Not robbed?” “That’s what,” nodded Nick. “Held up by the crooks who are doing such rascally work in these parts. But there’ll come a day of reckoning, sir, you may safely wager your whole fortune on that.” There stole into Badger’s dark eyes, which were still fixed upon Nick’s face, a momentary gleam of resentment. “What sent you here so quickly after being robbed?” he asked, with sinister inflection. “Did you expect to find the thieves in my house?” “Oh, no, not at all.” “Or did you come to condole with me over a like mishap, since misery likes company? The headquarters of the police is, I should say, the proper place for you to have hurriedly visited.” “I have just come from there,” replied Nick, a bit dryly. “Ah, that is different.” “I merely asked that man if he had seen an automobile pass,” added Nick, now approaching the veranda-steps. “As a matter of fact, sir, I was on my way to this house when I was held up by the crooks. Is Mrs. Badger at home this morning, or her husband?” “Both are at home.” “Ah, very good!” exclaimed Nick. “I am Mr. Badger.” “I would like a brief interview with you and your wife.” “Regarding what?” “The recent robbery of which your wife was a victim.” “Are you a reporter?” “I am a detective.” “From Pemberton Square?” “From New York,” replied Nick. “Yet I have just come from Chief Weston’s office, in Boston, and at his request I shall undertake to run down the gang of thieves who are at work in this section.” Though a doubtful smile curled Badger’s thin, firm lips at this confident announcement, he at once displayed more cordiality when Nick stated his vocation. “I hope that you may succeed, officer,” said he, with the same husky voice. “Come into the house. From New York, did you say?” “Yes,” replied Nick, entering. “You may wait for me, Grady.” “All right, sir,” cried Grady, from his seat in the runabout. “What name, officer?” inquired Badger. “My name is Carter.” “Not Nick Carter?” “The same.” Badger appeared surprised, Nick observed, and his eyes lighted. He quickly extended his hand, saying heartily, in wheezy tones: