“It can’t be done with a lock like this,” he concluded, with a muttered imprecation. “It looks to me as if I would have to force my way in if I’m going to get in at all. That will be decidedly risky, at best, but I think I can do it quietly enough, and, after it’s over, I ought to be able to find some means of concealing my handiwork. Not just now, though, thanks. I’ll take something a little easier, first.”
And with that he turned his attention to the desk.
The top had been cleared of its accumulation of papers before the detective’s departure, and the drawers were all locked, but Green Eye was provided with certain handy little tools. To be sure, it took two or three minutes to open each drawer, but soon the contents of three or four of them lay at his disposal in plain sight, and he determined to examine these papers and books before opening the other drawers.
He was engaged in this absorbing occupation, when the lower bell rang and roused him with a start.
“Wonder who that is?” he asked himself apprehensively, then shrugged his shoulders. “This won’t do!” he muttered. “If I’m going to be as nervous as a cat at every sound, I had better give up. What difference does it make who it is; I’m master of the situation.”
He listened attentively, and heard Joseph go to the door, after which there was a murmur of voices, followed by steps on the stairs. Presently, the butler knocked and entered.
“I thought I told you at luncheon that I was still out of town,” Gordon said angrily. “I came back for this one case, nothing else, and I don’t want to be bothered by every Tom, Dick, and Harry.”
“I didn’t forget, sir, I assure you,” Joseph said apologetically. “It’s Mr. Cray, though, and I felt you would want to make an exception in his case. There’s a gentleman with him.”
Gordon knew what that meant, for he had studied Nick Carter almost as thoroughly as the detective had studied him. Moreover, had he not himself figured not inconspicuously in detective circles not many years before? Consequently, he knew that the Cray referred to was Jack Cray, a former police detective, who for years had been in business for himself, and who, curiously enough, was a close friend of Nick’s.
The two were about as unlike as possible, but Cray, big, methodical, tireless, and brave to the point of recklessness, was a fine example of his type, and had won Nick’s friendship and assistance, giving, in return, a rare gratitude and loyalty.