Mr. Wright mopped his brow for the twentieth time, blew his nose, and then, rolling his bandanna up into a ball, threw it into his hat, saying, as he rested his elbows upon the arms of the chair and leaned forward:
“Mr. Carter, I think I have important information for you.”
“That is what I want,” the detective replied.
Nick was perfectly calm.
Not a muscle of his face moved.
But those shrewd eyes of his sparkled like two gems.
“It was this way,” Mr. Wright continued, after a momentary silence: “After you left me I returned to my room in the hotel and sat down to glance at the morning newspaper. I could not remain quiet for any length of time, because my mind was dwelling continuously on the murder.
“Well, an hour passed. I was pacing up and down the room trying to recall to my mind everything I had known and had heard about Lawrence, when there came a knock at my door.
“I called out for the party to come in, and a tall, handsome, stylishly dressed woman entered the room.
“I was taken by surprise and was slightly confused. I thought at first the woman had mistaken my room for some one else’s. But she looked at me very calmly, and when I did not speak she said: