“Usually,” he said, “my friends do not have a brass band to meet me when I begin to work.”
Folsom started, and looked uncomfortable.
He had heard it said that Nick Carter had a great objection to working on a case when it was known that he was at work.
“I beg your pardon,” said Folsom, hastily; “I’ve been excited this afternoon, or I would have sent for you secretly, but there’s no brass band about it. Mr. Kerr is the only one who knows that you are here.”
“It’s all right, Folsom; don’t worry,” responded Nick, “but I’ll bet the cigars that more than Mr. Kerr know.”
“You’d win,” said Kerr. “Mr. Folsom spoke of sending for you in the presence of fifty men.”
“That’s so!” exclaimed Folsom, looking very awkward.
Nick laughed.
“Let it go,” he said, good-humoredly. “I don’t need to bother with the case if I don’t want to. I presume Mr. Kerr has the hang of it, anyway. So, unless there is real trouble, Patsy and I can take the night train for the East.”
“I hope you won’t, Mr. Carter,” said Kerr, earnestly. “I do think that I can put my hand on the murderer, but I’d like very much to get your opinion if not your assistance.”