“Oh, did you?” asked the professor, rather surprised. “I don’t see how it was that you——”
“My dear Mr. Bentham,” responded Nick, with a smile. “You know that I am employed to make many secret investigations. It came in my way to find out about these records, and when I heard that Mr. Anderton was dead, I looked through his study for these valuable papers. I was worried because they were not there. Now that I know you have them, I feel safer. Would you permit me to use your telephone? Then I won’t trouble you any longer.”
“Trouble me?” protested Bentham. “That’s a nice thing for you to say, Carter. I haven’t ever had you in my house before, and now you are apologizing for being here. I’ll get even with you by never coming to your place,” he added, smiling. “There’s the phone. Go ahead!”
Nick took up the instrument, and soon had Patsy Garvan on the wire. He had listened not more than a few seconds, when he suddenly shouted back into the transmitter, in an agitated tone:
“All right, Patsy! I’ll come over there at once. Keep quiet till I come.”
He put the receiver on the hook, and, with a hasty “Good-by, professor. I’ll see you later,” dashed for the door.
“Wait a moment,” cried Bentham. “What’s the trouble?”
“No trouble at all!” shouted back Nick. “But I believe I’m going to find out something about the Yellow Tong.”
Half an hour later he was flying up the stairs to the study of Andrew Anderton. He found Patsy Garvan striding up and down the room in a state of intense excitement.
“Where is he?” asked Nick, as he ran into the room.