“Not a word.”
“There must be something doing, then, or he would have found time to telephone a message of some kind. How long have you been here? What’s this?”
Nick had caught sight of the plaster cast on the table. He took it up and examined it.
“One result of my trip with Mallory,” said Chick. “It’s mighty strange, Nick, how circumstances sometimes dovetail together in this big and busy world.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have not forgotten Mallory’s letter about a dead man up in Harlem?”
“Certainly not.”
“We went up there,” Chick said, more earnestly. “The address proved to be a miserable house in one of the outskirts. It appeared to be unoccupied, so we forced an entrance, though very little force was necessary, as far as that goes.”
“You found?”
“A miserably furnished place, Nick, with indications of poverty on all sides. There was evidence that a man and woman have been living there, and so some of the neighbors informed us; but the woman has removed all of her belongings and left only the body of the man. We found the body in a dismal back room on the second floor. He has been dead about two days.[Pg 24]”