“Well, old man,” said Nick Carter, as he shook the snow from his overcoat, “what’s the news? Anything strange since this morning?”
He was addressing Chick, his assistant, who, to use his own expression, was “acting the chamber lawyer” for the day.
“Yes. Two small cases have come in; but there is a telegram from Boston that may be of importance.”
“Let’s see it, my lad!” said the great detective, throwing his overcoat on a chair and seating himself. He took the dispatch in his hands and read it slowly.
“H’m! Yes, there’s something in this, Chick. What time is it?”
“Five-forty.”
“Good! I can catch the Providence boat. Telegraph anything you have to say to the Adams House!” and in another moment the noted detective had left the office.
The snow lay heavy upon the ground when Nick Carter
