“You bet there is,” Conroy quickly replied. “I think I can put you on the road to recover the child.” “How so?” “Because I know that Duffy and his wife agreed to join Kennedy in a certain house to-night, and that’s where the woman has gone with her sorrel-haired youngster.” “Where is the house?” “Out Westchester way,” said Conroy; then, more earnestly: “I know just where it is located. Duffy’s car is in the garage here and I can run it. If you want to go out there to nail this bunch and get the stolen child, I’ll take you out there and help you round them up. I’ll do this just to prove to you, Carter, that Kate had no hand in it.” “Good for you!” Kate Crandall exclaimed. “That ought to be fair enough for any meddlesome detective.” “As foul, instead, as the jade herself,” was the thought that passed through Nick Carter’s mind. That he rightly interpreted this offer; that he knew Conroy designed only to lure him to the house mentioned, in order to place him at a greater disadvantage, if not even to kill him outright, if it could be more safely done--that Nick Carter knew all this and much more appeared in what speedily followed. “Yes, it’s a fair offer, Conroy,” said he, pretending to be impressed with it. “You know where the house is located, you say?” “I do,” Conroy nodded. “I can take you straight to it.” “Does Kennedy live there?” “He is employed there. He is the only person living there just now. He is employed as a caretaker and chauffeur by the man who owns the place.” “Do you know the man?” “Sure I know him.” “Who is he?” “He’s the junior partner of a banking house, the one for which Kate worked for a time,” Conroy explained. “His name is David Mack. He’s a widower, and he has not occupied the Westchester house since his wife died. That was only a year ago. He keeps Kennedy there, however, and goes out occasionally. Kennedy probably is taking the risk of hiding the stolen child in the vacant house.” “By Jove, that might be true,” said Nick. “Have you any idea, Conroy, that Mack himself is in this job?” “No, no, he isn’t in it,” Conroy quickly protested. “He would have no hand in such business. David Mack is strictly on the square. Kennedy is only his hired man, you know, and is alone out there most of the time.” “I see.” “If you will go out there with me, Carter----” “Stop a moment,” Nick interrupted. “You said you picked some of Duffy’s torn papers from the wastebasket and found printing on them. Have a look at this letter. Were the printed letters that you found like these, or similar?” Nick leaned forward with the last and tossed the Redlaw letter upon the table. Conroy instantly picked it up, suspecting nothing. It was the opportunity for which Nick had been paving the way. He seized a drooping fold of the tablecloth, then gave it a jerk that instantly whisked the cloth from the table, carrying with it books, papers, magazines, and Jack Conroy’s revolver, scattering all of them over the floor.