Nick gazed up and down the avenue and through the side street. The latter was less brightly lighted. Lamps of motor cars could be seen in each direction on the avenue. They came and went, many of them passing him, but none showing any sign of stopping to pick him up.
Suddenly a clock on a neighboring church began to boom the hour—nine o’clock.
Nick counted the slow strokes of the bell, falling with sonorous reverberations on the night air. They brought to his mind the church and rectory visited the previous morning.
Nick thought of the white, upturned face of the murdered priest, found dead on his library floor. He thought of the missing girl and wondered what her fate had been.
His features hardened under these contemplations. His eyes took on a more threatening gleam and glitter. He was in a fit mood to face danger in behalf of justice, and bring to righteous punishment the miscreants guilty of these crimes.
A sudden glare of light shot across the avenue a block away. A limousine came quickly around the corner and approached the Grayling, but it did not stop. Its lamps, seen through the gray mist, were like the glowing eyes of an uncouth monster.
“By Jove, there comes my man,” flashed through Nick’s mind. “He came by the Grayling in order to see whether Garland’s rooms are lighted. I’ll turn up my collar to offset the bright light from that electric.”
Nick did so, and then began to think he was mistaken.
The rapidly moving limousine was swerving toward the opposite side of the avenue. Suddenly it made a quick turn, however, and sped directly toward the curbing on which the detective was standing.
The door flew open and a man thrust out his head.