THE GANG AND THE GAME.
Nick Carter did not fall far, yet far enough to jar him from head to
foot and smash to fragments the chair on which he was seated.
Nick landed in about a foot of water, moreover, drenching him to the
skin, yet the chill of which served instantly to revive him.
He found himself in almost total darkness. The only light came through a
chink a foot or more above his head. It served to reveal four bare, wet
walls of planking, however, also the floor through which he had been
precipitated, with the trapdoor now grimly closed.
Nick had heard the crash of it when Ardley closed and secured it, also
the mocking roar of the monstrous rascal, and it took Nick only a moment
to determine in what sort of a trap he was confined.
He could hear the gurgling of the water in the mill sluice, separated
from him by one of the plank walls, and he knew that the rocky ground
under his feet must be on a level with the bottom of the sluice.
“By Jove, that was a quick and unexpected trick,” he muttered, after
scrambling up from the water swirling around him. “I’m in a section of
the sluiceway that has been boarded in to reduce the flow of water to
the wheel. If this rascal opens the gate that admits the water from the
river--well, I shall be drowned like a rat in a trap.
“Did he have that infernal contrivance constructed for such emergency as
that in which I placed him? This looks very much like it. I have in
Chick, however, an anchor to the windward. If I can stave off a more
devilish move by this scoundrel, it’s long odds that Chick will show up
in time to take a hand in the game.”
It was not in Nick’s nature to hurry to meet trouble halfway. He
preferred to combat it only when it overtook him.
A brief examination of the four walls in which he was confined, and
which inclosed a space about eight feet square, convinced him that
immediate escape was utterly impossible.
Listening, he could hear Ardley’s tread on the floor, but not a sound
yet had come from the scoundrel, though several minutes had passed since
he closed and secured the trap.
“By Jove, the rascal may be getting ready to open the sluice gate,”
thought Nick, shifting a revolver to his side pocket. “I guess I’d
better shout up to him and engage him in conversation. I must find some
way to play for time.”
Nick was about to do so, glancing up at the gloomy floor, when the
hurried tread of other feet fell upon his ears, quickly followed by a
voice which he instantly recognized.
“Well, Ben, what do you say? Have you got him? I know you have, all
right. Your face shows it.”
“Margate’s voice, as sure as I’m a foot high,” thought Nick. “I have the
satisfaction, at least, of having run down these rascals. That may not
be all, by Jove, if they will only continue talking.”
There appeared to be no immediate reason to doubt that they would, for
Ardley was triumphantly stating what had followed the detective’s
entrance.
“You bet I’ve got him, Dave,” he bellowed, in conclusion. “There’s no
way he can get out of the trap. I can drown him like a rat in a firkin.
It’s dead lucky you telephoned to me and put me wise.”
“I did so as soon as he left the road house.”
“He showed up there, did he?”
“Yes. Morley and Conroy were having a drink in the barroom when he came
in.”
“They knew him, eh?”
“Bet you!” said Margate expressively. “They came up and told me. I was
just out of bed.”
“How did you know he was coming here?”
“I stole down on the stairs and heard him ask Dugan about the sign on
your building,” Margate explained. “I knew by the way he spoke, then,
that he would head for here. So I phoned over and put you on your
guard.”
“It’s dead lucky you did,” Ardley repeated. “He would have got me, all
right, if I hadn’t been wise. But I was ready for him. I had the chair
right on the trapdoor. He planked himself down on it, when I told him
to, like a kid on a circus seat. There was nothing to it after that. How
did you fellows come over?”
“Dugan brought us in his launch.”
“Where is he?”
“He remained to make her fast. Ah, here he comes, now.”
All of this enlightening conversation was plainly heard by the listening
detective. Mingled with the voices of the others, he occasionally heard
those of Morley and Conroy, also the heavy tread of Dugan when he strode
into the building, and Nick then knew that the entire gang was gathered
there.
“So that is how it was accomplished,” he said to himself, when a
momentary lull in the conversation followed Margate’s last remark.
“That’s why the milk is in the coconut. But don’t get gay too quickly,
you rascals, for you may throw a shoe.”
Nick’s train of thought was broken by another question from Margate.
“Have you seen him since you downed him, or heard from him?” he asked,
with a more malicious ring in his voice.
“Not yet, nor a sound from below,” Ardley informed him, with a growl.
“The fall may have broken his neck,” cried Margate. “I hope it did. That
would save us the trouble. Open the peek, Ardley. Let me have a look at
him.”
Nick reached for his revolver. Before he could draw it, however, the
quick click of a metal spring fell upon his ears, and light entered his
dismal confinement through a square hole in the floor, which was nearly
four feet above his head.
At the same moment Margate’s threatening voice cried sharply:
“Don’t pull a gun, Carter, or I’ll drop you on the instant. I’ve got you
covered.”
Nick looked up through the opening and saw the malevolent face of the
rascal, also the gleam of light from the revolver aimed down at him.
“Take your hand from your pocket,” Margate sternly added. “Make sure
it’s empty when you draw it out, too, or you’ll hear something drop.”
Nick removed his hand from his pocket.
“I already have heard something drop, Margate,” he coolly answered,
leaning against one of the plank walls.
“You’re lucky to be alive after it,” returned Margate, with a malicious
leer.
“I’m not the kind that dies easy,” Nick retorted.
“You’re booked to get yours this time, all the same.”
“Possibly.”
“You might as well take off that spinach, too,” Margate tauntingly
added. “I know you, all right, and what you’re out after.”
Nick removed his disguise and thrust it into his pocket.
“I have found what I am after, Margate,” he said, more sternly.
Margate laughed derisively.
“Much good that will do you,” he replied. “You haven’t found the one
whom you are after.”
“The time will come.”
“Your time will, Carter, all right,” snapped Margate, shaking the weapon
at him. “It already has come, in fact. Here is where I get even with you
for having queered my game of months ago. I have been lying low since
then, and just waiting to frame up this job.”
“You will lie low later, Margate, take my word for it,” Nick said
significantly.
Margate laughed again.
“Don’t bank on that, Carter,” he retorted. “I already have demonstrated
that you are not in my class. That trick I served you in the Hotel
Westgate ought to convince you of it.”
“I admit it was clever. Otherwise, you never would have got by.”
“Not more clever than that of last night,” grinned Margate. “I don’t
mind telling you. I’ve got the woman, Clayton’s new wife. I’ll make him
and her father pay all you robbed me of when you deprived me of
Mademoiselle Falloni’s jewels.”
“I suspected that was your game,” said Nick, with seeming indifference.
“You bet it’s my game.”
“Take heed you don’t lose it.”
“Let me alone to do that,” snapped Margate, more sharply. “I’m going to
pay you, too, for having sent my good friends to prison. I’ll send you
to a closer confinement than they are in.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I knew you were at Langham Manor last night. I knew, too, hang you,
that you would instantly take on this case and set to work to trace me.
How did you do it so quickly?”
“Oh, it wasn’t very difficult,” said Nick. “Such fellows as you are
quite easily traced.”
“Is that so, Carter?”
“The circumstances should convince you of it.”
“How did you contrive to hit my trail?”
“It’s not my habit to explain my methods,” Nick said slowly, bent upon
prolonging the conversation, if possible.
Margate seemed to suspect something of the kind, for his brows knit
suddenly and his eyes took on a more threatening gleam. He crouched
nearer to the opening, again shaking his revolver at the helpless
detective, while he cried more fiercely:
“You’d better hand it to me straight, Carter, or you’ll mighty quick get
all that’s coming to you.”
“Hand you what, Margate?” Nick drawled.
“Hang it, Margate, he’s stringing you,” Conroy now cried fiercely,
gazing down at Nick over the other’s shoulder. “The sooner he’s handed
his, Margate, the better ’twill be for us. There’s no telling what he
has up his sleeve, or who else is on the case. We may get it in the neck
from another quarter.”
“That’s right, too,” snarled Ardley sonorously.
Margate seemed suddenly impressed with the same threatening possibility.
He sprang up, instantly closing the opening, and swung round to Ardley.
“Will that trap fill quickly, Ben, if you open the sluice gate?” he
demanded, with a murderous light in his evil eyes.
“In about three minutes, Dave,” was the reply.
“How do you open it?”
“By throwing that lever,” said Ardley, pointing to a long iron bar near
the wall.
Margate’s face turned hard as flint.
“Throw it, then,” he commanded. “Throw it, Ardley, and wipe this cursed
sleuth off the earth. It’s only the fate he has invited. Throw it,
Ardley, and drown him like a rat in a sewer.”
Nick Carter, listening grimly, heard Ardley stride toward the iron
lever.