"Is that all?" Nick asked.
"Not quite. Ten minutes passed, and a Laclede Avenue car stops at the corner and off gets Gabriel Leonard. He comes to the elevator entrance and goes up in the cage. Five minutes goes by, and down he comes, muttering something about there being the devil to pay. Off he goes on a car bound for Broadway. Gone to see Filbon."
"What makes you think so?"
"I am a deducer," answered the barkeeper, with a knowing air. "Luke Filbon lives on one of the little streets west of Broadway, near the southern limits of the city. The Broadway car lands within a couple of blocks of his home. That's where Dashwood went to-night, and it's ten to one that Leonard followed him."
There was a city directory in the saloon, and when Nick had found Filbon's address, he said quickly: "Your story has interested me. I think I will go out there myself. I know both Dashwood and Leonard, and I am curious to learn what is at the bottom of to-night's business. Now, as to the woman. You said you know her name. What is it?"
"Madam Ree. She is a palmist, who has recently opened a joint on Chestnut Street."
Madam Ree! Nick drew a deep breath. Madam Ree was the assumed name of Cora Reesey, who, as the accomplice of James Dorrant, had figured so conspicuously in a San Francisco case which, a short while before, had occupied the attention and had exhibited the wonderful skill of the great detective.[A]
This woman, handsome, fascinating, unscrupulous, with wits sharpened by the contest with Nick Carter, whose bitter enemy she had announced herself to be, because she had been thwarted in her attempt to win a fortune in diamonds, was now in St. Louis and mixed up in a mysterious affair in which Nick's friend, John Dashwood, was in some way connected. What did it all mean?