“Yes,� answered his partner, putting out his head and looking along the rows of windows. “That window, where the curtain is blowing out, and the next one, are number forty-eight. A lady occupies the suite. Let me see! Oh, yes! the Baroness Latour.�
“Indeed?� remarked Nick Carter carelessly. “She’s a very charming young lady. We were playing golf together this morning, as I told you. Now, let me have a look at this room door.�
Turning the key, he swung the door open a few inches.
“You’d better stand outside, Mr. Mallory,� he suggested. “If anybody comes along and seems curious, you can say that I am repairing the lock. Tell them that Colonel Pearson makes a hobby of this sort of thing. I’ll keep out of sight as much as possible, however.�
Nick pushed the door nearly shut, and kneeling inside the room, he drew out the key and inspected it closely through his magnifying glass. Then he examined the bolt and keyhole, and kept at it for ten minutes.
“Come in, Mr. Mallory,� he requested, through the narrow opening between the door and the jamb. “I’m through with the door for the present.�
To the surprise of both partners, he dropped to his knees, and, with the aid of his glass, began to go over the carpet in a series of imaginary squares, just as he had done at the window.
It was half an hour before he had finished this task. By that time he was under an electric light which hung near the bed, for the convenience of guests who might like to read after retiring.
A gas jet protruded from the wall near it. Here Nick picked up the burned end of a wax match.
He seemed to attach some importance to this trifle, for he arose to his feet with the fragment of match in his hand and asked the partners: