CHAPTER VII.
PLAYING A LONE HAND.
Patsy Garvan, following the instructions Nick Carter had given him, did not ring a bull’s-eye until four o’clock that afternoon. He then rounded up the hackman he had been seeking.
Patsy recognized his face and discovered him standing beside his carriage in front of a hotel in Forty-fourth Street.
“You’re the very man I want,” said he, confronting him. “Have a look at this.”
Patsy displayed the detective badge under the lap of his vest. Sharply watching the hackman’s ruddy face, however, he saw at a glance that his hearer felt no alarm, or consternation, as would have been the case if he was guilty of anything wrong. His countenance took on a look of mild surprise, nevertheless, and he surprised Patsy, also, by saying, with a sort of gruff heartiness:
“You don’t need to show me that, Garvan.”
“Ah, you know me, then?” said Patsy.
“Sure. There are mighty few dicks I don’t know by sight. None in your class, Garvan, as far as that goes.”
“Thanks,” smiled Patsy. “What’s your name?”
“Pat Mulligan.”