“Not Nick Carter?”
“The same.”
Badger appeared surprised, Nick observed, and his eyes lighted. He quickly extended his hand, saying heartily, in wheezy tones:
“Well, well, I’m glad to meet you, Detective Carter, and to hear that you think of getting after these highwaymen. I know you by reputation, sir, and I have no doubt that you will accomplish more than is being done by Weston’s pack of mongrels. Forsooth, if you do not, you will accomplish very little.”
The last was said with a covert sneer that fell unpleasantly on Nick’s ears. He decided, however, that Badger was probably nettled by the failure of the Boston detectives to recover the property of which his wife had been robbed, and Nick thought no more of the matter at that time.
As he followed the man into the attractively furnished library, from the windows of which could be seen the stable and driveway, Nick agreeably rejoined:
“I am told that not much progress is being made against these road robbers?”
“None at all, Mr. Carter, that I can discover,” replied Badger, with a scornful shrug of his shoulders. “Here is my wife, sir. Claudia, this is Detective Carter, of New York, sent out here by Chief Weston to inquire about the robbery. My wife, Mr. Carter.”
In the light of what Chief Weston had told him about her, Nick surveyed the woman with more than cursory interest.
Though now but thirty, she still retained in face and figure most of the beauty and freshness of youth. She was dark, like her husband, and rather above medium height, with a figure at once noticeable for its grace and suppleness. She had clean-cut features, a firm mouth and chin, with a square jaw that plainly indicated more than ordinary womanly strength.