“Just as you like, of course, but I’m really curious to know what you have learned.” “I’m not quite sure of it yet, chief, and I’d prefer making sure before I indulge in any revelations,” said Nick, with a shake of his head. “It’s not my way, you know, to make disclosures which later may prove to be groundless.” “I’m well aware of that, Nick.” “If it will afford you any satisfaction, however, I will make one definite statement.” “What is that?” “Merely this, Weston,” Nick forcibly declared. “I will land these crooks for you, every man and woman of them, or I’ll throw up my commission.” The ear at the panel was strained at that moment, and the glow in the eyes of the listener became a threatening flame. “Well, well, that ought to be good enough for anybody,” cried Weston, with much satisfaction. “I felt sure that you had run upon something worth knowing.” Nick nodded significantly, yet replied quite indifferently: “I think that I have, Weston, and, when I am dead sure of it, I will tell you of what it consists.” “All right, Nick,” was the reply, with a genial laugh. “I said in the beginning that you should not be interfered with in this case, and that goes at any stage of it. Run it in your own way, Nick, and you’ll suit me.” “I’m only a bit curious to go out to the scene of this robbery,” Nick now added, with a glance at the photograph which he was replacing in his pocket. “If I can catch Madame Victoria at her rooms after I have lunched, I think I can get her to ride out there with me.” “No doubt of it, Nick. She’ll be glad enough to do anything that gives promise of the recovery of her property.” Nick smiled a bit oddly, and prepared to depart. “I shall drop in to see her about two o’clock,” said Nick. “I reckon I can bring her to my way of thinking.” “When shall I see you again?” asked Weston, rising. “Within a day or two.” “I wish you luck meantime.” Nick laughed and shook his head, saying with considerable dryness: “I depend less upon luck, Weston, than upon labor and head-work. If I can make nothing out of this case with my brains, I have no faith that luck will do it for me. As I said before, Weston, I’ll see you within a day or two.” The listening ear had left the panel of the door. The catlike tread had pattered quickly through the passage and out of the enclosure, and again the corridor doors stood open. There had been no intruder during the brief interview, and a look of evil exultation had risen in the eyes of Mr. Sandy Hyde. As Amos Badger had declared to his confederates one recent morning, it was, indeed, dead lucky that they had—this anchor to the windward. For it was this miscreant who had warned Badger of Nick Carter’s arrival in Boston, and of his acceptance of this case. It was this miscreant who had informed Badger of Nick’s intended visit the same morning, and who had made possible the hold-up which to Nick had appeared so like a coincidence.