He gave the young man a brief outline of what he had accomplished and of what he hoped yet to accomplish. Lansing was astounded when he saw the drift of the detective’s logic. He did not agree with Nick in his deductions, but promised faithfully to carry out his instructions. Nick went away and proceeded to a secondhand clothing store to buy a suit of clothes that he desired for his own use. It was difficult to find what he wanted, but at last he succeeded and made for home. Chick was already there. “Here’s the assay,” said Chick, handing over the certificate. “Fifty thousand to the ton,” murmured Nick, looking at the certificate. “The cigarettes all pan out the same. You got the disguises?” “Yes.” “Put on yours and be ready to go with me at seven o’clock. We’ll carry Patsy’s get-up with us in a satchel.” “I’ll be ready. Gillman hasn’t shown up at the assay office to-day, Nick.” “I didn’t think he had.” Chick went away and Nick threw himself down to smoke. At seven o’clock Chick came into the study. He had a brown satchel in his hand and looked like a red-haired capitalist. “Good!” said Nick. “You’ll do for Cooper.” “Providing you don’t throw a flash light on me,” laughed Chick. “You’re good, too, but I don’t know who you stand for.” “Horace Montgomery.” Nick wore an iron-gray wig and mustache and chin whiskers, gold-bowed spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, and a silk hat of slightly old-fashioned block covered his head. A grayish frock coat, with trousers of same material, patent leathers, dark spats and a gold-headed cane finished the disguise. In each hip pocket he had one of his small but reliable revolvers, and in the breast of his coat were two pairs of handcuffs. They rode in a cab to the Montgomery house, the cab was dismissed and they walked up the steps to the door. As Nick was about to press the bell the door opened and Montgomery himself stepped out. For an instant the two confronted each other in the semi-gloom. “Merciful heavens!” gasped Montgomery, gazing as one transfixed at the living and breathing counterfeit of himself. He recoiled, brushing a hand across his forehead. His eyes wandered to Chick. “Cooper,” he cried, “what does this mean?” “I’ll tell you what it means, Montgomery,” answered Nick, sternly. “Go up to your study. Cooper will go with you, and I will join you both in a few moments.” As one in a dream Montgomery turned and entered the house. He walked up the stairs, Chick close behind him. When they had passed from sight, Nick turned to Louise Lansing, who was standing in the parlor doorway with distended eyes. “Is--is it really you, Mr. Carter?” she queried. “Yes.” “I can hardly believe my eyes.” “Is everything all right?” “It is.” “How long has your uncle been here?” “Not more than an hour.” “Now, listen, Miss Lansing. I will give the signal by dropping a book.” “I understand.”