“A very gallus French siren with a big white hat and a black plume as long as the tail of me horse.”

“All right,” said Gaspard, promptly; “bring in the trunks.”

They were carried up the stairs to Gaspard’s room.

Harrigan mounted the box and drove away.

“Follow him,” said Nick.  “Bring him back here in about half an hour.”

Patsy darted away in pursuit of the cab.

Nick walked up to the door of Gaspard’s house and rang the bell.

He was directed to the Frenchman’s room.

Gaspard was examining the two trunks.  He looked very much embarrassed at the sight of Nick.

“What’s all this, Gaspard?” asked the detective.  “I hear you’re going back to France.”

“I?  Oh, no.  New York suits me much better.”

“But what are these trunks doing here?”

Gaspard looked particularly foolish.

“They are the property of a friend—­a lady.  To tell the truth, I hope to marry her.  A charming girl, monsieur; and innocent as a dove.”

“Why does she send her trunks here?”

“Ah, that I do not know.  It was not agreed upon.”

“Have you any idea what is in them?”

“Her wardrobe.  Ah, she is extravagant.  She buys many dresses.  But then, what would you have?  When one is young and beautiful—­”

Gaspard finished his sentence with a sweep of the arms.

“They are heavy,” said Nick, lifting one of the trunks and setting it crosswise on a lounge.

He took a bunch of keys from his pocket.  Gaspard seemed aghast.

“You would not open it?” he cried.

“Perhaps it won’t be necessary,” said Nick.  “This may answer.”

He drew a knife from his pocket and opened one of the blades, which was sharpened like a very large nut-pick.

With a sudden movement, he struck this into the bottom of the trunk, and then withdrew it.

A dark red stream followed the blade when it was withdrawn.  The end of the trunk projected over the side of the couch, and the red fluid dripped upon the carpet.

“My God!” exclaimed Gaspard.  “It is blood!”

“So it would seem,” said Nick, quietly.

He set the trunk upon the floor and snapped back the lock with a skeleton key.

Then he threw open the lid and revealed a mass of excelsior and scraps of newspapers.

This being torn away disclosed a dead and ghastly face—­the face of unfortunate Corbut, the waiter.

CHAPTER VIII.

Tracing the trunks.

Corbut’s body had been cut in two.  Only half was in the trunk which Nick had opened.

The other half was not, however, far away.  It was in the other trunk.

Both trunks contained considerable blood, but they had been neatly lined with rubber cloth, apparently taken from a rubber blanket and a man’s heavy waterproof coat.