“It may have unclasped and fallen to the floor,” the detective said quickly. “Look around. Try to find it.”
Dorson obeyed with alacrity, thinking it the most consistent course for one anxious to appear entirely innocent, and Chick hastened to assist him in the search, now seeing plainly that his chief had some covert object in the negative steps he was taking.
Carter had seen, just as the theft of the pearls was mentioned, that Mrs. Thurlow was sufficiently recovered to appreciate the loss and also the mystifying situation. She had started up in her chair, and was feeling with frantic haste for the stolen treasure, when Carter bent nearer and grasped her arm, unobserved by the others.
“Collect yourself and listen,” he whispered impressively. “I am Nick Carter, disguised. The pearls are gone, but that is part of the game I am playing. They will be returned to you to-morrow. Say not a word about me, not even to your nephew. I will return the pearls to you to-morrow evening.”
“But——”
“Don’t oppose me,” Carter forcibly insisted. “Do only what I direct. All depends upon it. Tell Edna not to mention me in the hearing of others. Pretend, now, that you have been robbed and that I am a stranger.”
The scene that immediately followed, for Mrs. Thurlow understood and yielded to him, was about what he expected, and also what he wanted. Amid the ensuing stir and confusion, for an excited throng gathered as soon as the robbery was announced, he informed Dorson that he would go and notify the police, and in company with Chick he immediately departed.
Not until they were on their way down the avenue, however, did Chick make any comments or ask any questions. He then began with saying a bit disgustedly:
“We seem to be playing a losing game. Is that the size of it, chief, or what have you up your sleeve?”
“The crooks have the rope of pearls,” Carter replied, with grim dryness. “There is no denying that.”