“Far from it, Clayton.”
“I guess Miss Alcott’s clew, if she really has any, relates to some one else, or something else,” Clayton now said, with less obvious interest.
“Most likely,” Nick agreed.
“We shall very soon find out.”
“True.”
“Have you formed any other suspicions since I last saw you?”
“No, none whatever,” said Nick. “I still am in the dark.”
Clayton did not add to his inquiries.
It was nine o’clock when the taxicab drew up in front of the house to which the chauffeur had been directed. He at once was dismissed by Clayton, who was the first to alight, and he then led the way up the steps and rang the bell.
It was answered by a well-built, powerful man in evening dress, whose dark features were only faintly discernible in the dimly lighted hall.