CHAPTER II.
ANOTHER PHASE.
The next morning Nick Carter had hardly concluded his breakfast when a card was brought to him by the servant.
He smiled as he read it, and, tossing it to his wife across the table, said:
“I expected that call, but hardly so early.”
He went into the parlor, where a middle-aged man rose to greet him.
“Mr. Carter, I presume,” said the visitor.
Nick bowed and requested his visitor to be seated, seating himself in such a position that the light fell on the face of his caller.
“My card has given you my name,” said the gentleman.
“Yes, Mr. Herron,” replied Nick; “I visited your house last night, or, rather, early this morning, but you were not at home.”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Herron, “and under circumstances that are not at all to my liking. I arrived home early this morning, and, on learning that my house had been robbed in my absence and that you had been promptly on hand to investigate, I have lost no time in coming to you, for I understand, from something you said to the officer, that you had no intention of following up the case.”
“That is so,” replied Nick; “unless I am especially retained in the case, it is without my province.”
“I am here to retain you, if you will take my retainer.”
“I should like to hear more about the case before I either accept or decline,” said Nick. “If it is an ordinary case of robbery, the police will deal with it.”
“First,” said Mr. Herron, “I would like to ask you what impression was received by you on your investigation last night. Evidently you think it is more than an ordinary robbery.”
“That was my impression last night,” replied Nick. “It seemed to me as if the men who robbed that house were searching for some one particular thing.”
“You are entirely correct,” replied Mr. Herron. “So well satisfied am I of that, that I believe that such things as were taken from the house, other than that particular thing, were so taken for the purpose of leading to the belief that it was a common burglary.”
“I should hardly go so far as that, Mr. Herron,” said Nick. “There were too many evidences of the work of skillful and professional burglars to justify that belief. But give me the facts.”
“Silver plate and jewelry were taken from the house to the value of probably $8,000. The jewelry was taken from a small safe standing in my wife’s bedroom.”
“Was that safe locked when you left town?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Herron, “and the curious thing is that, before leaving town, I changed the combination without informing my wife of the change—a habit of mine always on leaving town.”
“Did you tell no one of that change?” asked Nick.
“I told no one, but, making a memorandum of it, placed it in my pocketbook.”
“And yet the safe was opened?” asked Nick.
“Yes, and without force.”
“I observed that your plate was kept in a dining-room safe?”
“Yes; and that has, also, a combination lock. That, however, was not changed, and was in the possession of the butler, who is an old and trusted servant.”
Mr. Herron paused a moment, and then went on:
“Of course, no one likes to lose a value of $8,000, but I would have been quite willing to have sustained that loss if that which I believe was the sole purpose of the burglary had been left me. It was for that that the desks and drawers we