Plainly enough, this hushed yet emphatic intercourse between these two indicated one fact—­that Detective Nick Carter was up against a far deeper game than he then imagined.

CHAPTER IV.

Getting down to work.

“Well, Nick, old man, what have you made of it?”

The question came from Chick Carter, in his familiar and cheerful fashion, several hours after the interview held by the two detectives with Rufus Venner and his partner in their Fifth Avenue store.

It was now about six o’clock in the evening, and Chick had just returned from having a confidential talk with one of the stage hands of the theater in which the then famous attraction, the mammoth European and American vaudeville troupe, of which Senora Cervera was a star attraction, had for several months been playing to crowded houses.

Chick found Nick seated at the table in his library, with a powerful magnifying glass in his hand, while the table was strewn with the papers he that morning had brought from the office of Venner & Co.

Nick looked up with a laugh, and knocked the ashes from his cigar.

“Well, there’s no doubt about it, Chick,” he replied.  “We are finally up against them.”

“The Kilgore diamond gang?”

“Precisely.”

“I’m glad of it, Nick, as you remarked this morning.”

“Well, I’ve not changed my mind since then.  So am I.”

“We shall now find out whether they are as crafty and desperate as they have been painted.”

“I guess there is no doubt about it, Chick.”

“Well, if we fail to throw them down, Nick, my money shall go on Kilgore from that moment,” declared Chick, with a grin.  “What have you dug out of that mess of papers, Nick?  Have you arrived at any conclusions?”

“Rather!” smiled Nick, significantly.  “Did you ever know me to study for five hours over anything of this kind without arriving at some conclusion?”

“Never!” laughed Chick.  “And the best of it is, Nick, your conclusions nearly always prove to be correct.  What’s the verdict, old man?”

Nick glanced at the French clock on the mantel.

“Sit down and light up,” he replied.  “We have half an hour before getting down to work against this push.  I will devote it to informing you of the case as it now appears.”

“Good enough!” exclaimed Chick, drawing up a chair and lighting a cigar.  “Let her go, Nick.  I am all ears, as the donkey said to the deacon.”

“To begin with,” began Nick, more gravely, “this order sent to Hafferman, for the diamonds which he delivered at Venner’s store, is merely a forgery.  Neither Venner nor Garside wrote it, that’s as plain as the nose on an elephant’s face.”

“Which is plain enough, surely,” nodded Chick.

“Furthermore,” continued Nick, “the forgery was not the work of any clerk employed in either store.  I have compared the writing of each and every clerk with that of the forged order, and I will stake my reputation upon my conclusion.  The forgery was committed by some outside party.”