Nick Carter at Headquarters

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A gentle tap sounded at the door of the inspector's private office in police headquarters in the city of New York.

“Come!” exclaimed the inspector.

The door opened and a sergeant entered. “Someone to see you, chief,” announced the sergeant.

“Who?”

“Says his name is Jingle. He's a countryman.”

“Show him in.”

The sergeant departed; but two minutes later he returned accompanied by an unmistakable specimen of the Connecticut farmer.

“Take a seat, sir,” said the inspector.

Then, as soon as the sergeant had withdrawn, he added:

“Now, what can I do for you?”

“The question is, what can I do for you,” was the reply, in the unmistakable tones of Nick Carter, the great detective.

The inspector's face changed. He smiled broadly.

“Bless me!” he exclaimed. “Why did you assume a disguise in order to come here, Nick?”

“Oh, I happened to be rigged out when I received your message, so I came along just as I was.”

“Then you are busy now?”