When Shannon returned, he had a disguise in his hand, which he was placing temporarily in his pocket.
Doctor Devoll started up from his desk with two sealed letters, which he had hurriedly written. He gave them to his attendant, saying sharply, with eyes gleaming again:
“This to Toby Monk. This to Tim Hurst. Be wary when leaving the other, Shannon, both wary and watchful. Nick Carter, eh? We shall see, Shannon, we shall see!”
CHAPTER XII.
NICK CARTER’S DEDUCTIONS.
It was six o’clock when Nick Carter returned to the Wilton House. Daylight was deepening to dusk. The last editions of the local newspapers were out, and the shrill voices of juvenile venders could be heard from all directions. The detective glanced at the papers, which in headline luridness proclaimed:
“Leading Lawyer Suspected in Todd Murder! Frank Paulding Arrested! Chief Gleason Sure of His Man!”
Nick Carter smiled faintly, but with a more threatening gleam and glitter deep down in his eyes, when these varied cries of the newsboys reached his ears. He bought a paper from one, thrusting it into his pocket, and entered the hotel.
“Gleason has made good, all right,” he muttered while seeking the elevator. “That will make it easier for me, as well as all this, which is precisely what I expected. But it’s up to me, by Jove! and must be done quickly, or good night to my reputation.”
He referred to what he had overheard while threading his way through the unusual throng in the hotel office. There was much excitement and only one matter under discussion—the alleged murder, the mystery shrouding it, the strange death of the victim, and divers opinions regarding the suspected man.