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Read Ebook: The Man Without a Conscience; Or From Rogue to Convict by Carter Nicholas House Name
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Ebook has 2152 lines and 46582 words, and 44 pages
"You are to walk right in, sir--this way," he glibly announced, with much more deference.
At the same time he opened the way for Nick to pass into the enclosure, and through the passage mentioned.
"Thank you," said Nick, with half a growl.
"Don't mention it," grinned the clerk. "Straight ahead, sir. Chief Weston is at his desk."
Nick heard, meantime, the tramp of men through a corridor adjoining the opposite side of the outer office, and he knew that Chief Weston had immediately dismissed them, to receive him in private.
"So, so; the business is important," he rightly conjectured.
The door closed behind Nick of itself, but the snap of the catch-lock hung fire until after the hearty voice of the Boston chief of detectives, as he arose and gripped Nick by the hand, had sounded through the room.
"How are you, Nick?" he cried cordially. "I'm a thousand times more than glad to see you, Carter, on my word."
"Same to you, Weston," laughed Nick. "Some time has passed since we met."
"Too long a time, eh?"
"That's right, too."
"Have a chair."
Now the catch-lock snapped lightly.
A finger between the door and the jamb had been withdrawn.
A reddish head drew away from the panel, a pair of ears ceased their strained attention, a light step retreated through the passage, and two narrow gray eyes like those of a cat indicated that their owner had now satisfied his inquisitive yearning, and learned the name of the visitor who so peremptorily had issued his commands.
As Nick accepted a chair near that taken by Weston at his desk, he carelessly jerked his thumb toward the door by which he had entered.
"Where'd you get him, Weston?" he asked dryly.
"Get whom?" queried the chief, with inquiring eyes.
"The clerk."
"Hyde--the one who announced you?"
"The same."
"Oh, he's been at work on the books out there for about a year. He's only an assistant clerk."
"Ah, I see."
"Why did you ask?"
"For no reason."
"Nonsense! You must have had some reason, Nick."
"None of consequence," smiled Nick. "I asked about him, in fact, only because I had to fairly drive him in here when I declined to send in a card or mention my name."
Chief Weston threw back his head and laughed.
"That's easily explained," said he, still chuckling. "I growl at him roundly at regular intervals, Nick, for annoying me with visitors whom I neither know nor wish to see. I am getting him by degrees, however, so that he requires the whole pedigree of a caller before announcing him, which is about as bad a fault, I imagine. Sandy is all right, though, in his own peculiar way."
"Sandy, eh? That's a nickname, I take it, because of his red hair?"
"No, not exactly. His name is Sanderson Hyde."
"Ah, just so."
"I took him in to oblige a journalist friend," added Weston, smiling. "It's always well to stand ace-high with the press, you know."
"That's right, too," nodded Nick, now willing to digress. "You sent for me to come over here from New York, Weston. What do you want of me?"
"You got my wire?"
"Certainly."
"Did Chick come with you?"
"No," replied Nick, at this reference to his chief assistant. "I came over alone."
"Are you busy in New York just now?"
"I'm always busy, Weston."
"Too busy to undertake a little work for me?"
"Where?"
"In and about Boston."
"What's the nature of it?"
"There is nothing in giving you all of the details, Nick, unless you are in a position to accept an offer and help me out," Chief Weston gravely rejoined. "First of all, Nick, may I count on you?"
The brows of the celebrated New York detective knit a little closer over his keen gray eyes. He drew up a bit in his chair, remarking gravely:
"Your business is important, Weston, or you would not have sent for me."
"Very important."
"A serious matter?"
"Decidedly."
"Have your own men tackled it?"
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