“I can,” said Nick, smiling.
“Well, well, out with it,” laughed Chick, coloring slightly. “What do you suspect?”
Nick laid aside his cigar.
“Pull up a little nearer,” said he. “I can tell you with very few words what I suspect—and how we may contrive to clinch my suspicions.”
CHAPTER IV.
NICK DECLARES HIMSELF.
Nick Carter’s anticipation proved to be correct. He received no telephone communication from Lord Waldmere, informing him that his pretty American wife had returned. In accord with his promise to the Englishman, therefore, while Chick and Patsy prepared to carry out the instructions given them, Nick appeared at the boarding house in Fifty-third Street at precisely half past eight that morning and rang the bell.
As the saying goes, however, Nick’s own mother would not have recognized him. He was clad in a rather obtrusive plaid suit of pronounced English cut. He looked portly and imposing. He carried a heavy ebony cane. His strong, clean-cut face was artfully disguised. He could have walked through the Strand or Piccadilly, and readily have been taken for a Bond Street banker on his way to business.
Nick directed the servant to inform Mr. Waldron that the friend he was expecting had arrived, and the detective was presently conducted to the first-floor front, which he entered and closed the door.
Lord Waldmere, looking white and haggard after a sleepless night, stared at him in blank amazement.
“Oh, I say!” he exclaimed. “There is some beastly mistake. I’m not expecting——”