“It is No. 25 Salisbury Street. That’s the address,” remarked Nick, referring to a memorandum on his blotter. “All right! That will do. Get over there and lie low. When Chick comes, be ready. And, above all, be sure you’re not seen going in.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll go in like a shadow under a door. I’ve been hiding there for five days without anybody getting on. I am not going to fall down now, just before the blow-off. Not much!”
With this earnest assurance, Patsy nodded to Chick, waved his hand to the chief, and slipped away.
“It’s a good thing we have Patsy to help,” remarked Nick, when the door had closed. “This man Lampton is a keen rascal, and if he had the least suspicion we had traced him from Maple to New York, we should not get him this time, I’m afraid.”
“Perhaps we should not get him at all,” ventured Chick.
“Yes, we should get him some time. You ought to know that. When we go after a man as determinedly as we have for Andrew Lampton, his capture is never more than a question of time—and perseverance.”
“I hope that will be true about Howard Milmarsh.”
“It will. Strange that we should have so much trouble to find a man just to hand a fortune to him. But this is a world of strange things. Anyhow, I promised his father to see that he got his rights, and I will go through with that, just as steadily as I will keep after Andrew Lampton till I have him.”
“The secret-service men will help. That’s one thing.”