He did not dare hazard playing the eavesdropper again, and also feared that he might not overhear all that was said by so doing, and he at once adopted the first resort that appealed to him. He hastened through the enclosure, and into Weston’s private office, saying quickly: “There’s a man out here to see you, chief.” “What man?” “I didn’t catch his name, sir. But he’s in an awful rush, and I reckon something has happened.” Just as Hyde had expected, Chief Weston started up from his chair and strode into the general office. Hyde was cunning enough to foresee that, if Chick was in such great haste, their conversation would probably be carried on in the outer office. So it was, moreover, despite that Weston at once cried, as he shook his visitor by the hand: “Why, hello, Chick Carter! How are you? Come inside.” “No, no, chief,” Chick quickly declined. “I’m going to stay but a moment. Has Nick been here to-day?” “Yes—about one o’clock.” “Do you know where he has gone?” “I know where he said he was going.” “Where was that?” “To Madame Victoria’s rooms, in Tremont Street,” replied Weston. “Do you know for what?” inquired Chick, beginning to see light ahead. Chief Weston briefly told him of what Nick’s mission at Vic Clayton’s rooms consisted, as stated by Nick, and then he inquired curiously: “Why are you asking about him, Chick? Is there anything wrong?” Having learned all that he could then and there, however, Chick decided to impart nothing at this time. “No, nothing wrong, chief, I think,” he quickly rejoined, turning to go. “I am merely in a hurry to locate him, that’s all. He may have returned to the hotel by this time.” “I think likely you’ll find him there,” nodded Weston, a bit suspicious of Chick’s evasion. Chick did not wait longer, but bolted out as he had bolted in. Weston walked toward his private office. Hyde’s greenish eyes, now glowing more brightly than ever, drifted toward the telephone-closet. Before he could make a move to convey the desired warning to Badger, however, Chief Weston turned back and said curtly: “You come in here with me, Sandy. I want you to help me on my quarterly report for an hour or so. Look lively, too, or you’ll be tied up here till after six o’clock.” The sallow features of the treacherous miscreant quivered and twitched with disappointment for a moment, but immediate obedience was imperative—and the telephone had to wait! Chick Carter rejoined Patsy on the corner. “Come on!” he exclaimed. “Where now?” inquired Patsy, as they headed for Tremont Street. “To the fortune-teller’s rooms.” “Has Nick been there?” “Yes, about two o’clock.” “Did you learn for what?” “All that Weston could tell me,” replied Chick, hurriedly informing him what he had learned. Both were quick to see the possibilities which their various observations and discoveries presented, and Patsy now forcibly declared, as Chick concluded: “I’ll bet that some kind of a scurvy trick has been turned.”