“Do you laugh at me?” Garland stood and stared. “Tell me——”
“Oh, I haven’t much to tell you, Captain Garland. I came near losing those plans you brought me from the war office this morning.”
“Losing them!” Garland spoke with a gasp. “God above! that would be heaping Pelion upon Ossa. If you had lost them, also——”
“Oh, but I didn’t,” said Nick.
“Where are they, then, and——”
“Have a look.”
Nick picked up his overcoat and revealed on the table—two portfolios stuffed with government plans.
Garland stared for an instant, then uttered a shriek that might have been heard a mile away—a shriek imbued with joy and relief that words could not describe. He tore open both, viewed their contents for a moment, and then he threw his arms around the detective, sobbing like a child and crying wildly:
“Oh, Carter, Carter, Carter, how am I to repay you? They are all here, all here! Both portfolios—every plan! Oh, my God, I think I’m going daffy!”
“Let it be with delight, then,” said Nick, kindly forcing him to a chair. “We have called the turn on the foreign spies, at least, and put them where they belong. They have learned nothing from these plans, moreover, and you can bank safely on that, Garland, to the day of judgment. Calm yourself and listen. I will tell you what we have done and where you now stand.”