Nick did not immediately do so. He shadowed Floyd, instead, to one of the leading jewelry firms, who were large importers of diamonds and other gems, and through one of the broad plate windows he saw Floyd speak to the senior member of the firm and then retire with him to his private office.
Half an hour passed before Floyd emerged. He paused and shook hands with the merchant, bowing and smiling as if he had not a care on his mind, much less a burden, and he then left the store and walked briskly to a near hotel, entering the barroom and buying a drink.
Nick suspected what he was doing all the while, but he was not absolutely sure of it, and he continued the espionage. Passing through the hotel office to keep an eye on his quarry, he suddenly came face to face with Floyd in the adjoining corridor, the latter having just left the barroom.
It was an opportunity for which Nick had been waiting. He stepped directly in front of the man, saying familiarly:
“Hello! You’re just the man I want to see, Mr. Floyd. Give me half a minute, will you?”
Floyd knew Nick Carter by sight. If he had seen a ghost, he would not have turned more pale for a moment. That he was a man of extraordinary nerve and self-possession, however, appeared in that, aside from his momentary paleness, not a feature of his clean-cut face evinced a sign of fear, or even secret perturbation.
“You are Mr. Carter, I believe,” he replied, looking Nick straight in the eye.
“Yes.”
“Why have you stopped me? What can I do for you?”
“Tell me what you know about the Imperial Loan Company,” said Nick, straight from the shoulder.