“I would prefer that you have the auto sent to the Central House barn, Mr. Hepner. I think of changing my location.”
“Very good. It will be some time, I suppose, before we can hope for any results?”
“Perhaps not so very long,” answered Nick, and took his leave.
Going at once to the Holland Hotel, he paid his reckoning, took his grip and had himself driven to the Central House.
“James Nicholas, Montpelier, Vermont,” was the way he inscribed himself on the register.
Turning away, he lighted a cigar and threw himself into a chair by one of the office windows.
The Central House, in point of location, was anything but “central.”
It was situated on the outskirts of the city, in a neighborhood at once quiet and exclusive.
For fifteen minutes or more Nick sat in the comfortable armchair, smoking and thinking.
He was sifting the evidence so far secured and wondering what Chick’s investigation would lead to, if anything.