“Ah! You know, then?”
“Yes.”
“How did you find out?”
“Never mind that now. Come, let us return to your friends. You may introduce me as an old friend from Paris, the Marquis de St. Cyr—and then, as soon as it is politely convenient, I want you to shake them and give your attention to me. I have suddenly determined to initiate you into real detective work to-night.”
“Eh? Do you mean that you want me to help you?”
“Just that, if you are game and care to do so. If you think I may depend upon your discretion and—sand.”
“Sure thing, Carter! You may depend upon both.”
It was midnight when they had parted from the friends of Reginald Danton and had repaired to the room to which Nick had been assigned; and then, in a low tone, but with great earnestness, Nick outlined what he intended to do and the manner in which Danton could assist him.
“To begin with, Danton,” he said, “you had scarcely left my house before Sarah Kearney put in an appearance, and from her I have gleaned enough of the facts connected with the departure from home to assure me that she has been made the victim—or, rather, one of the intended victims—of a very deep plot which includes your whole family. Then, my young friend, I was seeking you in order to warn you to be especially on your guard, when quite by accident I discovered that Mercedes Danton and two maids are registered here at this hotel. In fact, they are at this moment occupying the suite that is directly opposite this one.”