“Originally he was a hobo. Association with professional criminals, either in prison or ‘on the road,’ has taught him a knowledge of high explosives--how to extract nitroglycerin from dynamite, and how to use nitro in blowing open safes, and so on. The methods of the ‘yeggs,’ as compared with the old-time, skilled cracksman, are simple and labor-saving.” “That is quite interesting. It has been a mystery to all of us how our safe was blown open. Will you explain, Mr. Nicholas?” Nick complied, very briefly, and then, after a little more questioning, arose to go. “If I can aid you in any way, Mr. Nicholas,” said the president, rising to accompany the detective to the door, “do not fail to call on me. As for your bill----” “You can consider the bill when I turn it in,” answered Nick. “There is only one way in which you can help me, Mr. Hepner.” “How is that?” “I presume there are several auto cars in this town?” “Quite a number. I haven’t one myself, but Clarkson, one of our directors, has a very swift machine.” “If I need that machine will Mr. Clarkson let me have it?” “Certainly. He will go with you himself and operate it for you.” “I will operate it, and will stand responsible for any damage I may do. I would like to have the machine held in readiness for instant use.” “Where are you staying, Mr. Carter?” “I registered at the Holland Hotel.” “Then I will have Clarkson send the machine to the Holland Hotel stables, subject to your order.” “I would prefer that you have the auto sent to the Central House barn, Mr. Hepner. I think of changing my location.” “Very good. It will be some time, I suppose, before we can hope for any results?” “Perhaps not so very long,” answered Nick, and took his leave. Going at once to the Holland Hotel, he paid his reckoning, took his grip and had himself driven to the Central House. “James Nicholas, Montpelier, Vermont,” was the way he inscribed himself on the register. Turning away, he lighted a cigar and threw himself into a chair by one of the office windows. The Central House, in point of location, was anything but “central.” It was situated on the outskirts of the city, in a neighborhood at once quiet and exclusive. For fifteen minutes or more Nick sat in the comfortable armchair, smoking and thinking. He was sifting the evidence so far secured and wondering what Chick’s investigation would lead to, if anything. Presently, the bell boy came up to him and touched him on the shoulder. “Mr. Nicholas,” said he, “you are wanted at the telephone.” “Where is it?” asked Nick, getting up. “This way, sir.” The detective was conducted to the rear of the office, some distance back of the counter. The telephone box was under the stairway, side by side with a ground-glass window overlooking a court. So close was the side of the box to the window that the glass in the box and in the window were scarcely more than a foot apart.