“Do you think there is anything in this that may help us to get that jewelry?” whispered Paul Clayton anxiously, in Nick Carter’s ear.
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” was the guarded reply. “I seem to see Rayne’s hand in this affair, somehow.”
CHAPTER XI.
READY FOR A CLINCH.
When the party entered the big residence, Briggs met them at the door. He was white, trembling, and generally disgruntled.
He had no hesitation about admitting the chief of police, but it was not until Captain Douglas had said that his companions were friends of his, and important persons from New York, that he made room for Nick Carter and the others to go in.
“Take us to Mr. Portersham’s rooms,” ordered Douglas sharply, in his most official tone.
“There is no one in any of them,” returned Briggs. “I have not let anybody go near them this morning. Mr. Morlein is in bed in his room, and the doctor is with him.”
“He is not in a serious condition, is he?”
“No, sir. I don’t think so. But he hasn’t come properly out of the sleep he was in. He must have had an awfully strong dose of dope, according to what I hear.”