One of the men whom Patsy had shoved out, hearing the voice within, turned and caught a glimpse of Nick, who had reached the door by this time. He dropped the flowers on the stoop, running down hastily, at the same time crying out:
“It’s Nick Carter!”
With this, the other two dropped their flowers, and, jumping for the wagon, clambered into it, to be driven away in hot haste.
“That is the third attempt, Patsy,” said Nick. “I don’t think they will attempt it again. If there is another attempt, it will not be until after the house is filled up with guests.”
Nick was right, for no other efforts were made during the time the bridal party was away.
It was after one o’clock before the bride and bridegroom, with the guests bidden to the wedding breakfast, returned to the house. And it was fully two hours later before the guests to the reception began to arrive.
While keeping close watch on all those who entered, Nick Carter and his aids, nevertheless, kept themselves out of sight as much as possible.
Nick had taken for his own post the hallway on the second floor leading to the room where the presents were.
A room in the front of the house on that floor had been set apart for the use of the groom, and, after the breakfast was over and the reception was about to take place, the groom, whose name Nick had learned was Mr. Norman Ellison, entered that room for a short time. Coming from it, he met Nick, face to face, at the door.
There was something strangely familiar to Nick in the face of the groom. For a moment it occurred to him that it was some other person than Mr. Ellison. With the recognition, recollections of London were presented to the mind of Nick.