“You surprise me, Nick. I should not have formed that opinion of him.”
“Oh, I am but incidentally setting you right as to the man,” added Nick. “He is not a ruffian, nor is he a rascal, save in one way. He is well educated, a student of the sciences, and an admirer of the fine arts. His bachelor quarters are filled with superb treasures and paintings well worth seeing, a veritable art gallery in fact. I know that he gives most liberally to charity, moreover, and I am informed that no man was ever enticed into or intentionally cheated in his gaming-place, which is open only to the very wealthy and most exclusive of our men about town.”
“Still, if he——”
“But that’s enough for Flood, my dear Gilsey. If your man Kendall has been one of his patrons, I shall know it before midnight. At nine o’clock to-morrow morning I will meet you here, or communicate with you by telephone.”
“And you expect——”
“That I shall then have located Kendall? Most decidedly I do, Gilsey. Trust me to be discreet, however, and to have your wishes well in mind.”
“A thousand thanks, Nick. I knew you would help me out.”
“Surely, old friend,” said Nick, as they shook hands. “Let the case rest until morning. The few hours will make no great difference one way or the other. Be here at nine to-morrow morning, and you shall know the—well, let’s hope it will be, not the worst, but the best.”
“Amen to that!” said Gilsey fervently.
It was three o’clock when Nick Carter left the Trust Company building and emerged into Forty-second Street.