But he surmised, from the general appearance of the letter, as well as its wording, that it had been written by somebody who had been in the gang, and had left it with a feeling of being illtreated. So he felt that he could not afford to throw it aside without investigation.
When he reached the hotel, and, with his heavy, bullion-trimmed sombrero in his hand, went up in the elevator to the ballroom floor, he found that the gathering was likely to be a large and gay one.
One of the features of the main ballroom of the Hotel Supremacy is the ring of private boxes overlooking the large floor. The boxes are immediately below the open balcony, so that they are shadowed and give plenty of privacy to guests who may desire to see without being observed.
Nick was standing just inside the ballroom, looking over the floor through the eyeholes of his black mask, and trying to determine whether any of the disguised men promenading or dancing were likely to be his counterfeiters, when an attendant touched him on the elbow, and whispered:
“This way, sir!”
It was one of the rules of Nick Carter to follow any lead that might be thrown out to him, just to see where it would take him. Also, he never permitted himself to show surprise.
He turned to the uniformed attaché and calmly surveyed him, ere he answered quietly, and in a tone very much unlike that of his natural voice:
“All right! Go ahead!”
Without a word, the attendant preceded him to the wide, carpeted staircase leading to the corridor at the back of the private boxes. He stopped at number thirty-six, which was painted on the box door in gilt figures.
Nick Carter took his seat in the box, and leaning his strong chin on his hand, watched with interest the moving throng on the floor below.