“One moment,” Nick interposed. “The young man is Lord Archie Waldmere, I think, a son of the Earl of Eggleston by his second wife, now deceased.”
Sir Edward Chadwick stared with manifest amazement.
“Goodness!” he exclaimed. “Is it possible, Mr. Carter, that you know him?”
“I am quite well acquainted with him.”
“And you know where he may be found?”
“Well, not at just this moment,” Nick said, a bit dryly. “He has been living in New York, however, for the past two years.”
“Well, well, that is most surprising. This is great and glorious news,” cried Chadwick, vigorously rubbing his hands. “Captain Grady was right. He said that I would get next to the right man, Mr. Carter, if I called upon you. Really, I am overjoyed.”
Nick somehow felt that the speaker’s joy was not so deep as he asserted. His voice had a twang that grated on the detective’s ears. His narrow eyes gleamed and glittered in a way, moreover, that Nick did not fancy. With no show of these distrustful feelings, however, he said agreeably:
“It certainly appears that you have come to the right man, Mr. Chadwick. So the Earl of Eggleston is on his deathbed, is he?”
“Alas, yes!”