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[195] <h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII. NICK DISCOVERS HIS LOSS.</h2> “By George!” ejaculated Lane Griswold. He was beginning to see light. “Is this Gordon of the same height and build as yourself?” he asked eagerly a moment later. “Quite near enough for the purpose, as I recall,” Nick replied. “More than that, he’s a master of make-up, and would have had very little trouble in copying my features. His eyes are light, nondescript, to be sure, but——” “Then I don’t see how it would have been possible for him to have fooled everybody in that fashion,” the millionaire objected. “The human eye is far from perfect, Mr. Griswold,” Nick reminded him. “Besides, we have to allow always for the action of the mind behind it—that mind which interprets everything it sees. In short, we generally see what we expect to see. Such a successful masquerade appears little short of miraculous to one who isn’t a special student of such things, but it’s far from an impossibility. My butler and housekeeper, and Cray himself, had no reason to suppose that it was not I they were seeing; therefore, as I had been a familiar sight to them for years, they would never have thought of examining the masquerader.[196] They merely gave him fleeting glances, and as those glances did not detect any glaring defect, that was all there was to it.” Nick paused and smiled. “Well, are you as sure as ever that I’m a rascal?” he asked. The newspaper proprietor held out his hand with an embarrassed air. “I’m afraid you’ll never forgive me, Mr. Carter, for making such an accusation,” he said apologetically. “You may be sure I shall never forgive myself. I ought to have known better, of course, and I’m very much ashamed that I didn’t.” “Say no more, please!” the detective cried heartily, grasping the millionaire’s hand and giving it a good shake. “I don’t blame you—I can’t. There didn’t seem to be any other way out. Here we are, though, at the house. Will you come in, Mr. Griswold? Then, a little later, we can go up to New Pelham together, if you wish, and see if poor Cray is any better? Naturally, I’m anxious to get his side of the story, in order to make sure that he really did identify Green Eye.” “That program suits me,” Griswold responded. “Naturally, if a man of Gordon’s stamp has got hold of the fund, the chances of recovering the money are slimmer than ever, and if you are willing to undertake the case, there’s no time to be lost.” “Of course, I shall undertake it,” Nick assured him. “You could not drive me off with an ax. My honor[197] and reputation are involved, and, under the circumstances, I shall refuse to accept a fee. “No, that’s final,” he insisted, in response to Griswold’s objections. “I trust, however, that you will fully recompense Cray, no matter whether he does anything more or not. He has earned it.” They had reached the detective’s study by that time, and Nick and his lieutenant were gazing about curiously. In a moment the former stepped forward and snatched up a pair of gloves that lay on the desk. “Look here, Chick!” he cried. “These are from my room up in Harlem. I see I shall have to move it. I didn’t dream that any one had discovered it, but Gordon must have done so, it appears, before he was sent up.” Chick, meanwhile, had approached the safe, and was just about to examine it, when his chief called his attention to the gloves. Now he returned and pushed away the chair that Green Eye had placed in front of it. “Good heavens, chief!” he ejaculated a moment later. “He’s broken into your safe!” Nick reached the spot in one bound, and, after glancing at the makeshift which Green Eye had employed to hide his handiwork, he pulled the great door open, and, bending, pressed the spring that operated the inner one. The latter in turn clicked open, was seized, and drawn back. A momentary glance revealed several empty pigeonholes, and a confused mass of papers in others. [198] “Merciful Heaven!” exclaimed Nick, clenching his fists and raising them aloft, while his face became as white as a sheet. “The fiend has taken what he wanted here! I wouldn’t have had this happen for anything in the world. It means—Heaven knows what it doesn’t mean!” His assistant realized only too well what the catastrophe foreshadowed, but, for the time being, he was stricken dumb. He could only look from Nick’s shocked face to the gaping safe. But, of course, Griswold did not fully comprehend, and managed to put his foot in it again. “It’s too bad that you have lost any valuable papers,” he said. “I have lost eighty thousand dollars, though, and the sooner you get on the trail of the fellow, the better.” Nick turned on him with a look of scorn. “What do I care about your infernal eighty thousand dollars!” he demanded fiercely, his patience exhausted at last. “It doesn’t amount to a row of pins—or oughtn’t to, at any rate. The papers in this safe, though—the most valuable of which have doubtless been stolen—involve the honor and peace of mind of scores of men and women who are prominent in all walks of life. Don’t you understand, man? They are my private and most confidential records, covering the most important cases of years—records which would mean hundreds of thousands of dollars to the blackmailer. And that isn’t all, for if used in that way, as this fellow doubtless intends to use them, and will, if he isn’t prevented at once, they will bring anguish to a[199] great many people. Finally, the fact that they have fallen into unscrupulous hands will work me more harm than anything else could possibly do.” His anger against Griswold had cooled while he was speaking, however. “But, fortunately,” he went on in a calmer tone. “We have every reason to believe that your gold is in the same hands as my papers; therefore, the trail isn’t likely to fork.” “That’s it,” Griswold agreed eagerly. “I beg your pardon again, Carter. I didn’t realize what this loss meant to you and others. It gives you a supreme incentive, however, to go after the fellow.” Before he could add more, the desk phone rang, and Chick answered it. “Yes, this is Mr. Carter’s house,” the young detective said. “You are speaking from Mr. Griswold’s office? Yes, Mr. Griswold is here. Do you wish to speak to him?... All right, I understand. I’ll tell him at once. Good-by.” The receiver clicked back into its place, and Chick turned to the expectant listeners. “They say that the doctor has phoned from Simpson’s house, at New Pelham, Mr. Griswold,” he said. “Cray is conscious at last.” “Good!” ejaculated Nick. “You and I will go there at once, Chick. How about you, Mr. Griswold? Will you come along?” “Certainly,” was the prompt answer. <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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