It was then about noon, and while they were at dinner Claymore tried to make the clergyman think that the business was all straight, but evidently he did not succeed. “I shall go to my room and think quietly till Low comes,” said Mr. Judson when they got up from the table, “and I repeat that if all does not seem to be honest and aboveboard I shall take measures to right the wrongs that have been done.” “Go ahead, then,” grumbled Claymore. “I shall be at the office if you want any information.” They parted, and did not meet again. Half-past three came, and, prompt to the minute, Hank Low drove to the hotel entrance and went in. Mr. Judson’s room was on the fourth floor, the clerk told him, and called a boy to show the visitor up. “Never mind,” said Low, “I’ve been here before, and I know the way.” He therefore went up alone. Within five minutes he came down the stairs again, an angry look upon his face. He said nothing to anybody, but hastened to his wagon, got in, said, “Geddap, Jenny,” and drove away as rapidly as the old nag could take him. As nearly as anybody could make out, it was just previous to Low’s departure that two or three persons on a street that ran along one side of the hotel were fearfully startled by the sight of a man falling from an upper story window. He struck head first on the sidewalk, and was instantly killed. Men were at his side before his heart stopped beating, but no word came from the unfortunate man’s lips. He was unknown to those who saw his end, but they knew from the cut of his clothes that he was a clergyman. Information was taken to the hotel office at once, and the clerk went out. He immediately identified the body as that of a guest of the house, the Rev. Elijah Judson. CHAPTER X. WAITING FOR NICK CARTER. In the first horror of this discovery nobody thought of murder. It was taken for granted that the unfortunate clergyman had been leaning from his window, and lost his balance. It was not long, however, before men began to look at the thing in another way. The minister’s body was left on the walk under guard of policemen until an undertaker came to take it away. Up to that time no friend of the dead man had appeared. The clerk had been so shocked that he could not remember whom he had seen with Mr. Judson. So the hotel manager had engaged the undertaker. At last the clerk recalled that Judson had been with Claymore early in the morning, and that the two had dined together in the hotel restaurant at noon. Accordingly, a messenger was sent to the oil company’s office to inform Claymore of what had happened. It was while the messenger was gone on this errand that a man went into the hotel, and laid his card on the clerk’s desk. “Send it up to Mr. Judson, please,” he said. “Mr. Judson!” gasped the clerk, looking first at the man and then at his card.