“Good! My sister’s money and mine is as good as saved. I thank you very much, and your bill will be met as soon as presented.” “That will come later. For the present, carry out your present policy--keep in the background, and don’t go about the city very much. Do not even communicate with your sister. Leave that part of it to me, and I will see that she does not worry about you. Where will I be able to communicate with you?” Lansing wrote his address on a card. Then, after thanking Nick again, he left the house. The detective lighted a cigar and threw himself into a chair. “He certainly had his nerve with him, to call on me as he has done,” thought Nick. “It’s plain that he wants to get me out of town, and at once. “I wonder if he knows Nick Carter never forgets a face? “I have seen his face before--but whether that is the face of the tough-looking Westerner called Ramsay, who is ‘wanted’ in Montana, I can’t say for certain.” CHAPTER IV. THE ROLL-TOP DESK. On leaving Nick Carter’s house, Yasmar walked rapidly off down the street. At the first corner he passed a typical East Side tough, leaning against a lamp-post, rolling a huge cigar between his teeth. Stepping out into the street, Yasmar hailed an open electric car. As he got aboard, well forward, the tough jumped on the rear and took one of the seats reserved for smokers. At Canal Street the Western man changed to a cross-town car, getting off again at Vestry Street. He had not looked behind him, or displayed any nervousness whatever. But, nevertheless, it seemed as if he had an idea he might be followed. Vestry and Canal meet at an acute angle, forming a “V” shaped point. Yasmar walked down Vestry Street for a few doors, then hastily turned to the right, mounted a short flight of steps and vanished through a dingy doorway. The tough was close after him. Passing through a long, dark hall, he made an exit through a door opening on Canal Street. The tough, apparently, did not come out of the building. The man who did follow Yasmar out onto Canal Street looked more like a laborer than he did like a tough. The Westerner, walking leisurely, made his way to the next block and halted in front of a four-story building. There was a moving van backed to the curb in front, and at the very top of the building two men were engaged in rigging a block and tackle. Yasmar came to a halt before a door leading into a hallway, and from there, for the first time, he took a survey of the street behind him. The laborer, his hands in his pockets and a corncob pipe in his mouth, was watching the riggers at work on the roof. There was nothing suspicious about the laborer, and Yasmar passed into the building and started upstairs. When he reached the head of the first flight, the laborer was in the doorway. Something had been shouted by one of the men on the roof. “All right,” the laborer called back, “I’ll bring it up to ye.”