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is the man.”

      Nick made a gesture of disappointment, and then he laughed, and the superintendent with him.

      The man whom Harrigan had selected was Chick.

      It was evident that the cabman was going upon pure guess-work. Being sharply questioned, he confessed that he had no idea how his “fare” of the previous night looked.

      “I’ll give it to youse dead straight,” said he, at last; “I don’t know whether the mug was white or black. Say, he might have been a Chinee.”

      “I believe that fellow is faking,” said the sergeant to Nick, as Harrigan left the room.

      “No; he’s straight enough, I guess,” said Nick. “He’s not the sort of man who would have been let into a game of this kind.”

      Nick then proceeded to question the prisoner in the presence of Chick and the superintendent.

      His answers were straightforward enough, but they threw little light upon the affair.

      The only subject which he refused to discuss was the whereabouts of his wife. When questioned about her, he invariably declined to speak.

      “She’s gone on a little pleasure trip,” he said, “and I want her to enjoy it. This affair will be all over when she gets back. She’ll never hear of it, where she is, and that’s as it should be.”

      Nick returned to his house, where he was informed that a visitor was waiting for him.

      He found a gentleman somewhat under forty years of age, and apparently in prosperous circumstances, pacing the study floor.

      The visitor was evidently greatly excited about something, for his hands trembled and he started nervously when Nick entered.

      “Mr. Carter,” he said, anxiously, “can I trust you fully?”

      Nick laughed.

      “I shan’t do anything to prevent it,” he said.

      “Will you swear to keep what I shall tell you a secret?”

      “No, sir; I will not.”

      The man made a despairing gesture.

      “I supposed that your business was always strictly confidential,” he said.

      “So it is, but I take no oaths.”

      “I didn’t mean that exactly, but—but—”

      The man hesitated, stammered, and was unable to proceed.

      “Come, sir,” said Nick; “be calm. Tell me plainly what you want me to do for you.”

      “It isn’t for me; it’s for a—for a friend of mine.”

      “Very well; what can I do for your friend?”

      “He is accused of a terrible crime, of which he is entirely innocent. I want you to save him.”

      “I have been asked to do that many times.”

      “And you have always succeeded?”

      “Oh, no; in several cases the persons have been hanged.”

      The visitor shuddered violently.

      “I had heard,” he said, “that you never failed to find the guilty persons and to save the innocent.”

      “That is the truth. It has been my good fortune to leave no case unsettled.”

      “But you said that these innocent persons had been hanged.”

      “They were hanged,” said Nick, “but they were not innocent. Their friends assured me that the persons were entirely guiltless, but it was not true.

      “And therefore,” Nick continued, looking straight into the man’s eyes, “I should advise you to be very sure of your friend’s innocence before you put the case in my hands.”

      The visitor looked very much relieved.

      “I’m perfectly sure of it,” he cried. “My friend had nothing to do with this case.”

      “I’m glad to hear it. Who is he?”

      “The man who has been arrested in this restaurant murder case.”

      “John Jones?”

      “That is the name he has given to the police.”

      “But isn’t that his right name?”

      “I—I don’t know,” stammered the visitor.

      “He must be a very particular friend of yours, since you don’t know what his name is!”

      “I never saw him in my life.”

      “Look here, Mr.—”

      “Hammond is my name.”

      “Well, Mr. Hammond, your statements don’t hang together. You began by saying that this man was your friend.”

      “I didn’t mean that exactly, but I sympathize with him. It must be terrible to be arrested for such a crime and to find the evidence growing stronger in spite of your innocence.”

      “How do you know that he is innocent?”

      Before Hammond could reply there came a knock at the door.

      Nick answered it.

      “Come in, Gaspard,” he said, throwing the door wide open.

      “You sent for me, and—Good God! who is this?”

      “You know him, then?”

      “Yes, yes, I know him,” cried Gaspard; “he is the man who was in room A last night.”

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      Gaspard’s declaration produced a stunning effect upon Hammond.

      At first he seemed thunderstruck. There was a look in his face which made Nick say to himself, “It isn’t true.”

      But whether the accusation was true or false, Nick knew at once that Hammond recognized Gaspard.

      Yet he couldn’t be a regular visitor to the place, because Gaspard had said that he had never seen either of the two men before the fatal evening.

      Therefore, as Hammond had recognized Gaspard, he must be the man who was in room A, because the man in room B had not seen the head waiter, according to Gaspard’s story.

      Hammond, after the first shock of surprise, recovered his nerve wonderfully.

      He calmly took a chair and sat there in deep thought for nearly five minutes. He paid no attention to questions.

      Finally he looked up and said:

      “I don’t know why I should deny it to you. There is no charge against the man in room A.”

      “None whatever,” said Nick. “He is wanted merely as a witness.”

      “It occurred to me that you might have some theory of a conspiracy in which both men were concerned.”

      “I never thought of it.”

      “Then I am not to be put under arrest?”

      “Certainly not, unless some new evidence appears, and I do not expect it.”

      “Very well; I was the man in room A.”

      “And who was the lady?”

      “I decline to mention her name. She

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