Chick chuckled softly to himself as he imagined the scene in the library that Nick Carter had just described to him.
“Hold on a minute, Nick,” he said. “Let me get the chronology of those two straight in my mind. Jimmy, according to his own story, told to us four years ago, was, originally, a born aristocrat, the second or third son of somebody-or-other, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. He would never tell who he was; but it is certain that he is well born.”
“So was Nan; and both were English, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Scapegrace Jimmy went to South Africa to finish the sowing of his wild oats, and Nan went there as governess to the children of the South African consul. They met there, and were married. Jimmy was a burglar and a thief, and Nan didn’t suspect it until long after the two had come to this country. Then she found it out, and for a time he compelled her to assist him in his crooked work. Then he got caught, and was sent away, to Sing Sing, and Nan got a divorce. Later, she married Smathers, the man of many faces, and an actor. Then Jimmy got out of prison, thought Nan had peached on him, threatened vengeance, and all that, and intended to kill her, until it happened that you showed him that Nan was not the one who had betrayed him. She wanted to reform, and did so, and Jimmy agreed to let her alone. Then Jimmy got caught, was sent back to England to answer charges against him there, escaped, returned here, and supposedly died on an island in Long Island Sound. That was four years ago. Almost two years ago, Smathers died—I suppose he is really dead, isn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, there is no doubt of that, Chick.”
“And now Nan discovers her former husband, robbing a house where she is a respected guest, and——”
“And that isn’t all of it; not by a long shot.”
“Go ahead, then.”