“All in good time,” said Nick. “After the destruction by fire of the house occupied by the African fortune teller, didn’t you visit a woman on the third floor of a tenement house near the Bowery?”
Mantelle started. The woman sitting by his side seemed about to leave her chair, so excited and nervous were her movements. Chick began to see that his chief was no longer feeling around for a clue, but knew what he was about.
“I did not visit such a place as you describe,” was the reply. “From this café I went directly to my rooms at the Cumberland.”
“How did you get to your rooms?” asked Nick, at a venture. “The elevator man says you did not ride up in the cage with him.”
Again the fellow started, as if in sudden terror, again the woman made a motion which suggested leaving the room. Nick was now playing a bold game.
“He is mistaken,” said Mantelle. “I went to my room in the usual manner.”
“And the lady sitting there by your side,” said Nick, “she——”
“Leave her out of it,” said Mantelle angrily.
“She met you later that night—or early the next morning, rather, at——”