Nick lingered only to add a few minor instructions. It was after eleven o’clock when he returned to the Wilton House, now feeling sure that he would outwit the unknown crooks in any game they might attempt to play and that more definite discoveries concerning them would speedily be made.
The detective had further proof of their craft and sagacity, however, upon entering his suite. For he found Patsy Garvan waiting for him, who had learned that the automobile having the State license number he had looked up was owned by one of the leading bankers in the State, who dwelt more than a hundred miles from Madison.
“It could not have been his car that I saw,” declared Patsy, after reporting the facts. “That’s a cinch, chief, and it admits of only one conclusion. That chauffeur had false number plates, or had altered his own in some way.”
Nick Carter’s brows knitted ominously, but he did not comment upon this further evidence of knavish foresight. Instead, he asked a bit abruptly:
“Have you seen Chick?”
“Not yet,” said Patsy. “He has not returned.”
“That looks bad, too.” Nick spoke with a growl. “It ought not to have taken him three hours to search Todd’s apartments. It could have been done in half that time. Can it be that anything has gone wrong there also and that these rascals——Get your hat, Patsy,” he abruptly digressed. “Get a move on and go with me. We’ll have a look at Todd’s apartments.”
It was nearly twelve o’clock when, having aroused the night manager of the Studley, they obtained admission to the rooms of the murdered man and switched on the electric light. The scene that met their gaze brought a horrified ejaculation from the manager and a cry of dismay from Patsy Garvan.
Chick was lying where he had fallen, with his arms extended, his right sleeve drawn up a little, and with his face upturned in the bright light, as ghastly white as the face of a dead man.
The rooms were in shocking disorder. A roll-top desk had been broken open and looted from top to bottom. Table drawers, those of a bureau and chiffonier, a trunk in the wardrobe closet—the contents of all had been pulled out and scattered broadcast over the floor. From end to end, in fact, the apartments had been thoroughly searched.