Nick knocked the ashes from his cigar and prepared to rise from the table.
“I have only this to say,” he replied, more impressively: “Be on your guard. Men never go to so much trouble, nor take such chances, Clayton, unless they have some definite and probably felonious design in view.”
“That’s true, Nick,” Chick put in.
“There certainly is something in the wind,” Nick added. “It is impossible to predict what it is, or when it will occur, but it is safe to say it relates to something with which you are identified. Otherwise, Clayton, you would never have met with such an experience. I can only warn you to be vigilant and constantly on your guard. A bomb may burst when it is least expected.”
“That’s right, too,” Chick declared, as they arose from the table. “No man, Nick, could say more.”
Mr. Chester Clayton thanked the detective for his advice and promised to be governed by it.[Pg 8]
Precisely one week later, at eleven o’clock in the morning, Nick Carter’s prediction was fulfilled.
A message from Clayton, addressed to Nick, and received in his library, called the detective to the Hotel Westgate.
It contained only half a dozen words:
“Come quickly. The bomb has burst.”