“I am in Nick Carter’s employ, and I happen to know that you are the man who runs this place. If you wish to continue running it, you hand me straight goods and[Pg 25] keep your trap closed. Whom has Cora Cavendish gone in there to meet?”
The change that came over the man’s face convinced Patsy that he needed to say nothing more threatening. The mention of Nick Carter’s name had been enough. The man at once replied, moreover, with lowered voice:
“I’ll not yip; not on your life. She has joined a man named Morton. He’s been waiting for her.”
“How long?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“What do you know about him?”
“Nothing; not a thing. Both come here now and then to lunch, or to buy wine. I have known the woman for a time, but not the man.”
“Is either adjoining dining room vacant?”
“Yes, both of them.”
“I’ll go into the one on the right,” said Patsy, with a glance at the several closed doors. “Call that waiter away, so he’ll not be butting in there.”