“See here, Mr. Carter, don’t suppose for a moment that either of my companions at that time know anything about this matter. They are incapable of such treachery as that. Put it out of your head, sir, if you have any[{9}] such suspicion. I know positively that Verona Warren and Miss Barclay are above——”
“Pardon me,” Nick interrupted a bit dryly. “What you know about them, Mr. Garland, is not material. I am not seeking to cast suspicion upon any one, least of all, your two lady friends. I want only to trace your movements as precisely as possible from the moment you left Annapolis. Pray don’t infer that I have formed any definite suspicion.”
A tinge of color came to Garland’s pale face.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Carter,” he said quickly. “I meant no offense. Nor do I question your motives. None could realize more keenly how much depends upon what you can do for me. Please continue your questions. I will answer them to the best of my ability.”
“Very good,” Nick replied. “As a matter of fact, then, you have not the slightest idea when, where, or by whom one portfolio was substituted for the other?”
“No, Mr. Carter, not the slightest,” Garland quickly answered. “I am absolutely in the dark. I nearly fainted when I opened the portfolio and discovered my loss.”
“Were you then alone in your apartments?”
“I was.”
“What is the Grayling?” Nick inquired. “A hotel?”
“No. It is a private boarding house in Vermont Avenue, not far from the Thomas Circle.”