“I’m returning to New York after an absence of a quarter of a century,” Crawford explained, “and I don’t believe I know a single soul there.”
“You are taking a well-earned vacation, I suppose?” the detective remarked.
“Something of the sort,” was the answer. “As a matter of fact, I have no occupation now, since my partner and I have sold out our mining interests in South America. I have nothing definite in view, but I’m sure I shan’t be content to remain idle for long.”
“I’ve had a pretty tough time of it,” he went on. “The usual experience of those who knock about the world seeking their fortunes; but I think I can safely say that I’m secure now for the rest of my life—unless I make a fool of myself.”
“I’m very glad to hear of it,” Nick declared heartily. “I understood that you and Mr. Stone had been fortunate.”
Crawford nodded his head, but a shadow passed over his face.
“It isn’t necessary to go into details, Mr. Carter,” he replied, “but your informant was quite correct. Stone and I discovered and developed the Condor Mine in Brazil. We worked it ourselves for over a year, and then decided to sell out and come back home. It netted us about half a million apiece. That’s very little, of course, as you count wealth up here, but it’s enough for us to live on in comfort for the rest of our lives. We have no one dependent on us—unfortunately.”
“I’m sure you deserve it all,” the detective told him warmly.
Crawford’s eyes grew misty with a host of memories of hard days and lean ones—days when the nearest approach to a meal had been another notch in the belt and the hope of something more substantial on the morrow.
“Yes,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ve earned it; and that brings me to something I wanted to say. I’m a little afraid of your New York, Mr. Carter. I know much more about prospecting than I do about finance. As I’ve told you, there’s nothing to occupy my mind, and I suppose I’ll soon be looking about for investments. If I’m not very careful, I’m likely to fall among thieves.”
He leaned across and placed his hand on Nick’s arm.
“Even in South America we hear of Nick Carter,” he said, with a quiet nod of his grizzled head, “and I count it a very fortunate chance that I should have run across you here on this vessel. I have engaged rooms at the Hotel Windermere, and I’ll be very glad if you’ll give me your address. I should like to have some one to go to for advice if I find that the sharks begin to gather.”