Читать книгу A Battle for Right; Or, A Clash of Wits онлайн

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“Not to me alone,” was Nick’s modest correction. “I have two able assistants, and they have done as much of this work as I have.”

“Strange the secret-service men did not find them,” remarked Chick.

The detective laughed quietly, as he took a perfecto from his drawer and clipped off the end.

“It was,” he admitted. “They would have found it soon, no doubt. But Lieutenant Brockton certainly opened his official eyes when I told him you and Patsy had discovered the den. It’s a feather in the caps of both of you.”

“I should like to have seen him.”

“Brockton wanted to make a raid right away. But I persuaded him to wait,” went on Nick. “I know what these raids are. There’s a forcible entry, generally with the breaking down of an iron-lined door, which attracts the attention of the whole neighborhood. Then there’s a rush, and, as likely as not, the very man you want most of all gets away. No raid for mine.”

The detective had his cigar alight by this time, and as he pulled at it steadily, to make sure it would draw properly, he gathered up some of his memoranda and stowed it away carefully in a secret recess under the table.