Nicholas Carter waved his hand toward a door near the man, and continued:
“You live in this building. We cannot talk in this hall.”
“That’s right. Come this way, sir.”
For the first time the weapon was lowered, and the man called George Richmond by the detective opened the door.
His action revealed a room scantily furnished, but Carter stepped forward.
The moment he crossed the threshold the door was shut, and the other turned a key in the lock.
“Now, sir, what is it?” he demanded.
The detective turned and looked him in the face.
“You have been to Hell’s Kitchen,” said the detective, as coolly as if he addressed a man in the chief’s private room, instead of where he was.
“That’s news to me,” laughed the listener, as his face seemed to lose color. “What business would I have in that delectable locality?”