“Do you think Flood will inform you?”
“I don’t think that he will, but I believe I can gather something from an interview with him,” explained Nick.
“I see.”
“He’ll not suspect me, in this disguise, of being other than a fellow gamester, and I have already shaped my course with him. Meantime you investigate young Harry Royal, and meet me here at noon.”
“Leave that youngster to me,” nodded Chick, as they prepared to depart, in company. “By the way, Nick, have you communicated with Gilsey, of the Trust Company?”
“I have telephoned him only that Kendall was in Flood’s place last evening,” replied Nick. “I could not well inform him of the murder without disclosing that I had been out there. He’ll get the news of that soon enough, however. As the case now looks,” added the detective, as they were about parting at the street corner, “I think we may have some warm work before we see the end of it.”
“Let it come, Nick. I reckon we can take care of it.”
“We’ll give it a try, at all events. See me again at noon, Chick.”
“Sure thing.”
It happened that morning that Moses Flood arrived at his gambling-house less than ten minutes in advance of Nick Carter. It was an hour, moreover, when there was rarely any business, and Flood found the house deserted by all except the attendant at the street door and the deformed cuekeeper on the floor above. Both were engaged in putting the place in order after the night game.