“I’m not so sure of that,” his chief replied. “They may have met to plan the theft of Mrs. Mortimer Thurlow’s pearls or to alter plans made before the threatening letter was sent to me.”
“Mebbe so,” Patsy allowed. “It’s a pity I couldn’t overhear the discussion and see what came off.”
“We’ll make use of what you have discovered, not mourn over what was impossible,” said Carter dryly. “We must now contrive to identify those three men. All wore beards, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Possibly, then, all were disguised. You have the number of the motor car, however, and that may help, barring trickery of some kind. Such crafty rascals as these don’t often let a license number expose them. There is a possibility, nevertheless, that they overlooked it.”
“The chance is worth taking.”
“Surely. You go over to the garage and see what you can learn,” Carter directed, rising and taking his hat. “I have other business in the meantime, and will return about ten o’clock. Chick then will have shown up perhaps and have something to report. Get your information on the quiet, mind you.”
“Trust me for that, chief,” said Patsy, as they were leaving the room together.
Nick Carter’s other business, or part of it, consisted of keeping a promise he had made the previous morning. He called at the city prison, confiding his identity and mission to the warden, and was promptly accorded an interview with Frank Paulding in the warden’s private office.
Nick did not expect, however, that Paulding would have any information to impart. He called on him only because of his promise and to say a few words of encouragement to the suspected man, also to direct him to maintain the negative position he had taken.