These were Nick Carter’s brief instructions to Chick, in fact, when he left his Madison Avenue residence at seven o’clock that evening, to seek an interview with the woman who, he suspected, could supply him with a clew to the identity of Chester Clayton’s double, if not with positive information concerning him.
Danny Maloney, the detective’s chauffeur, was waiting at the curbing with his touring car. Nick gave him the necessary directions, resulting in his alighting half an hour later in front of the attractive home of Mrs. Julia Clayton, who had fainted so suddenly in Mademoiselle Falloni’s suite that morning.
“You may wait, Danny,” said Nick. “I don’t think I shall be very long.”
“Long, or short, chief, you’ll find me here,” replied Danny.
Nick strode up the gravel walk to the front door and rang the bell. Lights in the hall and one in the side rooms denoted that Mrs. Clayton had returned.
“I hope I may find her alone, or that Chester Clayton is not here,” Nick said to himself, while waiting. “She seemed averse this morning to talking of the matter in his presence. That’s one reason why I suspected that she——”
Nick’s train of thought was broken by a shadow on the figured-glass panel of the door, which was opened by a pretty servant girl in a white apron and starched cap.
“I wish to see Mrs. Clayton,” Nick informed her.
“Mrs. Clayton is not at home this evening, sir,” said the girl, a bit oddly.
“Not at home?”