CHAPTER XXXV.
A TRAP IS SET FOR NICK.
Lane Griswold had telephoned to the detective’s house only once, and then had been told that the detective had not returned since the previous evening. It might be, however, that Nick was there by this time.
Nothing in Simpson’s story indicated that Nick had met with any mishap, and it was improbable that a man of his daring and resourcefulness would take to his heels at once simply because he had become a thief. It was much more probable that he would return home and bluff it out to the end.
In that case, Griswold hoped to corner him, and, under threat of country-wide exposure, force him to confess—after which an exposure would be likely to follow, anyway.
The millionaire’s face was flushed and determined as he strode up the detective’s steps and pressed the electric button in peremptory fashion.
Joseph, the butler, opened the door.
“Is Mr. Carter in?” Griswold demanded.
“No, sir,” was the prompt reply. “I can’t say when he’ll be back, either.”
“I telephoned from New Pelham a couple of hours ago,” Griswold went on. “I was told then that he had left the house last evening, and had not returned. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir.”