A Cigarette Clew: Salted For a Million

“Well, Chick, it’s good to strike little old New York again.”

Nick Carter jumped down from the railroad car and shook himself like a huge dog as his feet touched the stone flagging of the Grand Central Station.

“You’re not more glad to see New York than New York is to see you,” piped a shrill voice, and Patsy, Nick’s younger assistant, darted forward to greet his chief and Chick, who were elbowing their way through the crowd on the arrival platform.

The great detective had been out West on a puzzling case in which he had to run to earth a combination of Montana swindlers. Nick and his chief assistant had done splendid work, but there were still two members of the swindling gang to be accounted for.

Patsy’s first question as they jumped into a cab was:

“What’s the latest from Montana?”

“We landed all of the crooks but two,” said Nick. “They took fright a month ago when they heard we were to take the case and it has been reported that they have come East. In that case, Patsy, you may have a chance to bag the men who slipped through my hands.”

“Nothing would please me better,” was Patsy’s retort, and Nick laughed at the boy’s eagerness.

“I bet Patsy will strike the fellows before you can say Jack Robinson,” put in Chick, with a grin.

“You win your bet,” said Patsy, coolly. “I think I can put you on the trail of at least one of the men you want. The other fellow will have to stand till I look around a little.”