Nick picked up a few of the fragments and examined them. They were written on only one side, in a dainty, feminine hand; but the few words on each piece, none of which was more than an inch square, gave him only a vague idea as to the character of the entire letter.
That was so suggestive, however, that Nick carefully searched the ground for the remaining fragments, which had been somewhat scattered by the wind, or designedly done by the person who had destroyed the letter. He succeeded in finding enough of the fragments to feel reasonably sure that they would nearly complete the torn sheet, and he inclosed them in his notebook.
Nick then crossed the vacant lots to the next street, noting that the locality was one in which such a crime as he now suspected could have been committed without much danger of detection; but he could discover no further clew to the movements of the woman and her assailants, and then retraced his steps to the rectory.
The coroner had arrived during his absence and was viewing the remains of the murdered priest. Nick did not remain to talk with him, however, but beckoned for Fallon to join him on the veranda.
“I must be going, now, for I have an appointment this morning,” he explained. “You can tell Doctor Hadley, also the chief, what I make of the case. Here is Father Cleary’s unfinished letter, which you had better hand to[{15}] the coroner. I will try to see you later and give you further assistance.”
Detective Fallon thanked him, and Nick then departed.
CHAPTER IV.
A CONNECTING LINK.
Nick Carter had spent much less time at the St. Lawrence rectory than one might infer from the nature and extent of his investigations. He had covered the ground rapidly, despite the numerous deductions and explanations with which he had assisted Detective Fallon, from whom he parted shortly before ten o’clock.
Something like twenty minutes later, Nick alighted from a taxicab at a handsome stone residence in Massachusetts Avenue. It was that of Senator Ambrose Barclay, one of the leading statesmen then in the higher house, and the man directly responsible for Nick Carter’s arrival in Washington late the previous night.
A butler admitted the detective and at once ushered him into a richly furnished library, where Nick was almost immediately joined by both Senator Barclay and his daughter Estella, a beautiful brunette in the twenties. The great service already done them by the detective was fresh in their minds, only a month having elapsed, and their greeting was extremely cordial.