“Oh, Mr. Carter, I am so glad you have come! I want your advice about something.”
This was the greeting of the girl who had been waiting as Nick opened the door of his library.
It was the “Queen of Night,” whom he had met at the ball at the Hotel Supremacy, and in whose company he had had so queer an adventure.
He bowed and pointed to the chair from which she had arisen.
“Sit down, and we’ll talk it over, whatever it is,” he answered, with a smile. “I hope you are not in any trouble.”
“I am very much perplexed about something, and I feel that if something is not done quickly, there may be a tragedy that I ought to prevent.”
This was all mysterious enough to make Nick Carter glance inquiringly at his fair visitor.
She was dressed in the plain but expensive garments of a wealthy woman, and everything about her appearance, as well as her speech, proclaimed one who had always been used to the refinements of life.
There was a slight foreign tinge to her accent, but her English was flawless in its choice of words, as well as in the pronunciation.
“You did not ask my name when you met me at the Hotel Supremacy on the night of the ball, notwithstanding that you gave me protection when it was much needed.”