The detective had but reached his room when his servant announced a visitor.
He supposed that it was some one from headquarters, and he was surprised when the gentleman, who had been following him, was ushered in.
“You will pardon the intrusion of a stranger, I am sure,” said the visitor, giving the detective his card, “when you have heard what I have to say.”
“Go ahead, Mr. Furman,” said Nick, glancing at his visitor’s card.
“I will take my own way, and I hope I may not give offense.”
Nick Carter surveyed the cheeky fellow from head to foot, and were he to express his thoughts the gentleman would have heard little complimentary.
Furman sat down on a lounge and threw one leg over the other.
The fellow was cool, decidedly cool.
“You would like to be rich?” he said. “But that is a foolish question; we all want money, and the more we get the better appetite we have for more. It never surfeits a fellow.”
“Come to the point at once,” said Nick, who seriously contemplated throwing his visitor downstairs. “What do you want? I have no time to listen to your impertinence.”