“I will look around for myself in search of evidence,” he remarked, turning to Arthur Gordon. “You had better remain here with Mr. Strickland and his niece. If I require anything, or wish to add to my inquiries, I will call you. I shall return in a few minutes.”
“Go ahead,” Gordon nodded. “The case is in your hands.”
Nick Carter glanced at Chick and led the way into an adjoining front room.
It was a handsomely furnished music room. An expensive piano occupied one corner. Racks of music, a viola, with many articles of like significance, evinced the refinement and musical genius of the owner. Mr. Rudolph Strickland had, in fact, an international reputation as a violinist.
“Well, chief, the rascals have left the piano, at least,” Chick dryly observed, noting also in this room convincing evidence of the visit of the thieves.
“Yes, so I see,” Nick replied, more seriously.
“What do you make of it?”
“A remarkable job has been done here, if all that Gordon stated is correct. I think, Chick, you had better set about confirming it, while I look farther.”
“You mean?”
“Go down and talk with Madame Denise and the janitor. You can measure them better than Gordon. Have a look at the area back of the house and see what possibilities it presents for getting away with such a quantity of plunder. Find out whether a wagon, or a conveyance of any kind, has been standing in the avenue, the side street on which the Carroll Building fronts, or in any locality available for such a job.”