"Well, what's that but the theft of a million from him?"
Nick was compelled to confess that it was just that, and nothing else.
"And who'll reap the proceeds?" continued Pond. "Why, the Stevenses, of course. Nobody else gets anything out of it. They're playing on the colonel's superstitions for a million dollar stake.
"Now, Mr. Carter, you go ahead and work this thing out. Catch the thief. Don't let the colonel get you out of the way. If there's a question of money, I'm good for the best fee you can name."
Nick's first move that day was to go to Mrs. Stevens' house.
She lived well on her small income. It was a nice old country-house, with grounds of considerable extent, and a stable in which two good horses were kept.
Nick rode over there on one of Colonel Richmond's fine saddle-horses.
As the detective rode up the winding, shaded walk toward the house, he noticed a man-servant just ahead of him.
This servant had a newspaper and some letters in his hand. He seemed to have come from the village post-office.
Leaning over the railing of the veranda, as if waiting for this servant, was one of the handsomest girls Nick had ever seen. She was a beauty of the dashing, dark-eyed type—a girl of courage and strong will.