“Why so? I thought you had something up your sleeve.”
“It is in my pocket,” Carter corrected dryly.
He took it out; the vial he had picked up unobserved by others. Displaying it between his thumb and fingers, he told Chick where he had found it; then added pointedly:
“It will help some.”
“You mean——”
“I mean that I now intend to corner Doctor David Devoll,” Carter interrupted. “It now is ten o’clock. Before this time to-morrow, Chick, I’ll have Devoll where the wool is short. Take my word for it.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE WHEEL WITHIN.
Nick Carter finished his breakfast at eight o’clock the following morning. He needed no one to tell him that Patsy Garvan, who still was absent, had fallen into the hands of the remarkably clever and thus far successful gang he was seeking. It was only half an hour later when Carter entered the Osgood Hospital, where he was received in the business office by Jim Shannon, then in his customary livery.
“Doctor Devoll is not here, sir,” he said respectfully, in reply to the detective’s question. “He seldom comes here before noon. He has outside patients, sir, and other business. You might catch him before he goes out, sir, if your business is important.”