For the Grafton whom Nick Carter knew and whose name he had made use of on the impulse of the moment was not a colonel, and this man of the Creotoria could not be he.
Nevertheless, Nick had hit upon a name of a resident of the building, and there was so much gained, at least.
The detective hurried through the corridor of the tenth floor toward number one thousand and one, and discovered, as he approached it, that a tall, military-looking gentleman, with white mustache and imperial, and with a distinctly soldierly bearing, was standing in the open door awaiting his approach.
And Nick, when he was close enough, pretended great surprise in greeting the man.
“Why!� he exclaimed; “there must be some mistake! You are not my friend Grafton. Have I, by any chance, been directed to the wrong apartment?�
“I think not,� was the smiling reply. “My name is Grafton, although I have not the slightest recollection of you, sir. I am Colonel Morely Grafton, of the British army. Will you step inside, sir? It is possible that I can aid you in finding the man you seek, for Grafton is not a common name. We all claim relation.�
“My friend by that name is Paul Grafton, a resident of London,� replied the detective.
“I have a nephew by that name, whose home is in London,� was the reply, as the colonel led the way into the sitting room. “He is now in India. Will you be seated, sir?�
Nick sat down.
He realized that now, in order to carry out what he had gone there to do, he must waste a few moments in conversation with this man, in order that no suspicion might be attached to his call; and in the conversation that followed it came out that the nephew of the old colonel was really the detective’s friend.