Belle Braddon came to it, all right, in less than a minute.
“Yes, sir; I’ve got in for him, Mr. Carter, and some day I’ll get even with him. By the way, sir, the central office sleuths are having a fine hunt after him, aren’t they?”
“A vain one, certainly,” replied Nick.
“If they hadn’t been so hot after my Uncle Nate of late, I’d get even with Flood by making them wise as to his hiding place,” declared the girl, with affected bitterness.
Then, before Nick could reply, she quickly added, as if struck with a clever idea:
“Oh, I say, Mr. Carter! Just to show you that I bear you no ill will, and, in fact, rather fancy you, I’ll throw Flood into your hands, if you’d like to get them on him for that murder out in Fordham.”
Nick heard her without a change of countenance. He knew that she was absolutely ignorant of Flood’s whereabouts, who at that moment was in Nick’s residence; also, that she could have no knowledge of the latter’s relations with Flood.
Yet no man could have wanted better evidence that the girl had some design which she was craftily plotting to execute.
It was characteristic of Nick at any sign of danger to go after it, until he discovered of what it consisted. In this case, therefore, he decided to give Belle Braddon all the rope she wanted, or until he could learn at what she was driving.
Nick was too shrewd, however, to take the bait too greedily. Pretending to be entirely ignorant of Flood’s movements, he said curiously: