Kilgore had reasoned shrewdly, in so quickly suspecting that Nick Carter would lose no time in getting a line on the Venner residence. Even while the diamond gang were discussing the plan by which to capture the Carters, the two detectives were at times within a hundred yards of the secret plant.
It was dark out of doors that night, with only a few stars in the clouded sky, and the wooded locality and neighboring streets were but poorly lighted.
It was in a northern suburb of New York, a section not yet much encroached upon by the spreading city, and the dwelling owned and occupied by Rufus Venner was that in which three generations of his family had lived and died.
It was a square, old house of brick, set fifty yards from the suburban street, and was flanked in either direction by extensive, ill-kept grounds, made damp and dark by the huge, old trees, which nearly covered the estate.
Back of the house, and off to one side, was a large wooden stable, fast running to ruin; while a rusty iron fence, falling to fragments in places, skirted the dismal grounds in front.
Beyond the trees, far to the rear, could be seen the roof and chimneys of an old, wooden mansion, fronting on another street, and having a very similar environment. There, too, the house and grounds were running to ruin and decay, both places being but crumbling monuments of former opulence and grandeur.
It was upon this scene that Nick Carter and Chick arrived just before midnight, having left their carriage at a remote corner, to await their return.
"Yonder is Venner's house, Chick," said Nick, as they picked their way along the unpaved sidewalk. "We'll vault this iron fence and steal across the grounds."
"It doesn't look much as if our quarry was there," observed Chick, as they scaled the fence.
"Their deeds are dark, and like seeks like," replied Nick. "They now may be making darkness their cover."
"Not a light in the house, is there?"
"None visible from this side. We'll steal between the house and stable, and have a look at the opposite elevation."
"Not much danger of being seen. It's as dark as a nigger's pocket under these trees."
"So much the better in case anyone is watching."
"Who lives here with Venner?"
"Only an elderly housekeeper, of whom I don't hear anything very good," replied Nick. "Venner is here but part of the time, I am told. In fact, I don't quite fathom his habits."
"Why so?"
"I can't learn what takes him from home so much of the time. He does not leave the city, nor patronize any hotel that I can discover, yet he frequently is away from this house overnight."
"Perhaps he secretly keeps another house, and is leading a double life."
"Possibly," admitted Nick. "He is on friendly terms with numerous women, I learn, and other quarters may be essential to designs of some kind. Quietly, now, and we'll slip across the back lawn."
Like shadows, as dark as the night itself, they silently reached a point from which they could view the north side of the house. Here they discovered that one of the lower rooms was lighted, with the curtain at the single window nearly drawn.
"Somebody is up," murmured Chick.
"We'll learn who, if possible."
"Going to have a look?"
"Yes. Come, if you like, but don't get into the glare from the curtain. Kilgore has a very wicked air gun, and if he and his gang are about here, we might invite a bullet."
"I'll have a care."
Stealing closer over the damp greensward, they approached the house and peered beneath the curtain mentioned. There was but one occupant of the room, which was a small library.
In an easy-chair near the table, with a newspaper fallen across his knees, sat Rufus Venner, apparently sound asleep.
This was only a part of the game, however, for Venner was wide awake. By means of their secret wire, he had been informed of Cervera's arrival at the diamond plant, and of Kilgore's designs upon Nick, and Venner at that moment suspected that he might be under the eye of the detective.
For nearly half an hour Nick waited for some sign of this artifice, but Venner in no way betrayed it.
Presently a clock on the mantel struck the half after one, and the sound appeared to awake him. He yawned, glanced at the clock, then took the lamp from the table and went up to bed. But never so much as a glance toward the window.
Nick led Chick away, and they returned across the lawn to a point beyond the stable.
"It rather looks as if Cervera had been here, doesn't it?" inquired Chick, with a grin.
"Yes," admitted Nick. "Two facts are very significant of it. First, that Venner is at home on this particular night; and, second, that he should be asleep in his chair after midnight. It has a fishy look."
"That's my idea, Nick, exactly."
"Yet the way to prove it doesn't appear quite easy."
"Not just yet. But who occupies that house over yonder, where the roof shows above the trees?"
And Chick pointed to the distant dwelling, little dreaming that the diamond plant and the gang they sought were established under its many-gabled roof.
This was not the first night Nick had watched Venner's house since the diamond robbery, the doubtful character of which he had suspected at the outset, and incidentally he had informed himself concerning Venner's neighbors.
"One Dr. Magruder, I am told, a retired physician from Illinois," he replied. "He bought the place at a forced sale some little time ago."
Nor did Nick, when thus replying, dream that Dr. Magruder and Rufus Venner were one and the same; or that, in attributing to him a double life of shameful iniquity, Chick had hit the nail squarely on the head.
"Come this way," added Nick.
"Where now?"
"We'll go down to the corner of the grounds, and watch the house for a time."
Before Nick's reply was fairly uttered, however, both detectives were startled by distant cries, which fell with frantic appeal on the midnight air.
"Help! Help! Help!"
The startling cry was thrice repeated, the last time as if choked in the speaker's throat, yet the direction of the sound was unmistakable.
"Something's up!" muttered Nick. "This way!"
With Chick at his heels, he tore across the wooded grounds and bounded over the iron fence at the street.
Then the occasion of the outcry at once became apparent.
Some two hundred yards away, in the yellow glare of one of the incandescent lights by which the little-frequented street was illumined, a man was battling desperately with three assailants, one of whom he had knocked to the ground.
Without a word, both detectives rushed down the road to his assistance.
As they drew nearer there came a flash of light, then the report of a pistol, followed by another shriek for help.
Then Nick saw one of the ruffians reel a little, as if shot, while a second hurled their victim to the ground. The third leaped to his feet at the same moment, yelling wildly:
"Look out! Scatter, boys! The cops are upon us!"
"Kilgore's voice, or I'm a liar," muttered Nick, over his shoulder.
Both detectives were still fifty yards from the scene of the furious conflict, and were running at the top of their speed along the rough road.
Before they could come near enough to use a weapon, however, the three ruffians scattered like frightened cats, leaping the wall near an adjoining woodland, into the gloom of which they speedily vanished.
It was obvious to Nick that pursuit would be vain, so he hastened to the side of the fallen man, who had been left prostrate in the road, and helped him to his feet.
The man was Jean Pylotte.
He was panting hard after the conflict, the fake character of which Nick could not then foresee. His coat was ripped up the back, his linen collar torn off, and he was deathly pale, with a smutch of blood across his cheek. In one hand he held a revolver, and in the other—a chunk of coal.
"Are you wounded, stranger?" Nick quickly demanded, as he studied the man's pale face.
"Not much—not badly, I think," gasped Pylotte, trembling violently. "But it's lucky you came. They'd surely have killed me."
Nick noticed that he spoke with a slight foreign accent, and was a man of considerable physical prowess.
"There's blood on your face," said he.
"It came from one of them, I think," said Pylotte, drawing his sleeve across his cheek to remove the stain. "I must have wounded one of them."
"It's a pity you did not kill him," said Nick, bluntly. "Was it you who fired the gun?"
"Yes. I tried to fire again, but one of them struck me down before I could do so. The ruffians came upon me before I fairly realized it."
"Do you know them?" inquired Chick.
"Only one of them, a man named John David," replied Pylotte, now appearing to pull himself together.
"John David, eh?" grunted Nick.
"He has swindled me, and I—I saw him at a theater to-night, and afterward followed him out here."
"For what? If he has swindled you, why didn't you have him arrested at the theater?" demanded Nick.
"Well, I—I wanted to learn where he lives. He must have discovered that he was being followed, and then tried to do me up."
Nick observed the speaker's faltering manner, and it increased his curiosity.
"Why do you wish to know where he lives?" he demanded.
Pylotte hesitated, and shrugged his shoulders.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said he, after a moment.
"Not believe you?"
"I hardly think so."
"Suppose you tell me, and see," suggested Nick, with a faint smile.
"I have no objection to telling you, none at all," Pylotte now replied. "The man I spoke of, John David, swindled me yesterday with two artificial diamonds."
"Ah! is that so?" cried Nick, with a significant glance at Chick. "What is your name, my man?"
"Jean Pylotte, sir."
"Who are you, and where do you live?"
"I am a Frenchman by birth, and arrived in New York only this week. My home is in Denver. I am a diamond cutter by trade, and came here to buy some gems for a Denver woman of wealth, who wishes to obtain a certain size and quality."
"Then you are a judge of diamonds?"
"One of the best," Pylotte modestly admitted, with a faint smile. "I am an expert judge of diamonds, and so it happened that I discovered the swindle of which I am a victim."
"Then you bought a diamond of the man who said his name was John David, did you?"
"I bought two, sir," nodded Pylotte. "They appeared like natural and very perfect stones when I first examined them, but after subjecting them to more careful tests, I found them to be the most extraordinary imitations I ever beheld."
"Artificial diamonds, were they?"
"Yes, artificial. But only the best of experts, and after the most rigid tests, could discover the fraud. I never saw such imitations. The stones are really almost as good as natural ones."
"Have you them with you?"
"Yes."
"You feel quite confident that they were manufactured, do you?"
"Oh, I am positive of it," cried Pylotte, with emphasis. "That is why I was secretly following the swindler."
"You wanted to discover his house, and learn how he made such perfect imitations, eh? Was that your motive, instead of having him arrested at the theater?"
"Well, yes, it was," admitted Pylotte, with feigned reluctance.
"Do you know any process for manufacturing diamonds?" Nick next demanded.
"I am pretty well informed on the subject."
"Quite an art, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is."
"And one that could be made very profitable, perhaps?"
"I judge so."
"Put up your revolver," said Nick, abruptly. "What's that black object you dropped just now?"
Pylotte glanced down at his feet, then laughed faintly.
"That's odd," said he. "It's a piece of coal. I must have seized it from the road, thinking to defend myself with it."
"What is there odd in that?"
Pylotte laughed again.
"Diamonds may be made from coal," said he. "The fact that I should have got hold of a piece in the road here, while tracking that diamond swindler in search of his house, strikes me as being rather odd."
"So it was," said Nick, a bit dryly, thinking of Venner's house in the near distance.
Then he added, decisively:
"Put up your gun, Mr. Pylotte. I want you to go with me. I think you are the very man I want."
"Go with you!" exclaimed Pylotte, drawing back.
"If you please," said Nick, politely. "I want, at least, to hear more of your story."
"But who are you, sir?"
"My name is Nick Carter."
"Not the celebrated detective?" cried Pylotte, with feigned amazement.
"Precisely."
"That's quite sufficient, Mr. Carter!" the Frenchman now cried, with much bowing and scraping. "I'll go with you when and where you wish. If any man can run down these swindling ruffians, sir, you certainly are the man."
"Thanks," said Nick, dryly. "I'll take you home with me for the night."
The following morning.
The clock in Nick Carter's library was striking nine.
Nick and Chick were seated at one side of the table, and Jean Pylotte occupied a chair at the opposite side.
Upon the dark cloth top of the table between them lay two large diamonds, declared by Pylotte to have been artificially made, the two with which he claimed to have been swindled.
Yet to the eyes of a layman they had all the qualities of natural gems, gleaming and glistening with magnificent fire in the cheerful sunlight of Nick's library.
Pylotte had invented a very clever and consistent story about himself and his mission in New York, as well as about the meeting and being victimized by the counterfeit diamond shover, and Nick as yet saw no occasion for seriously distrusting him, or connecting him with the Kilgore gang.
He rather suspected, in fact, that Pylotte had shadowed the swindler, whom Nick felt sure was Kilgore, with a view to learning just how the diamonds had been manufactured, and possibly with a design to turn the discovery to his own advantage.
This was, indeed, the most natural deduction for Nick to arrive at, after considering all the circumstances.
"So you are confident that these stones are works of art, rather than of nature, are you?" inquired Nick, who had been carefully examining the gems.
"I am absolutely sure of it, Mr. Carter," declared Pylotte.
"Have you any idea how such counterfeits can be made?"
"Oh, yes."
"By what process and means, Mr. Pylotte?"
Pylotte hastened to explain.
"A natural diamond, Mr. Carter, is pure carbon, crystallized under enormous heat and pressure in the bowels of the earth."
"I am aware of that."
"Charcoal and graphite are also pure carbon, but not in a crystallized condition," continued Pylotte. "If that condition could be imparted to the substances mentioned, we should have the artificial diamond."
"How may that be done?" inquired Nick.
"By subjecting the substance to the same condition under which the natural diamond was crystallized."
"Heat and pressure?"
"Precisely," bowed Pylotte. "Attempts to thus manufacture diamonds have frequently been made. A Mr. Acheson, of Pittsburg, while so engaged, and in obtaining graphite from coal by the heat of an electric furnace, discovered that combination of silicon and carbon now known as carborundum, which has commercial value as an abrasive."
"I know about that," bowed Nick.
"Now, then," continued Pylotte, with an unconscious display of enthusiasm; "while diamonds certainly have been made by artificial means, the great difficulty has been that of producing them at a low cost. Moissan, in my country, produced diamonds by heating charcoal and iron to a high degree, and letting the mixture cool under enormous pressure. He succeeded in obtaining very small crystals, or diamonds, but the cost of production made his method impracticable from a commercial standpoint."
"Ah! I see."
"In 1872 a chemist named Rose converted graphite into diamonds by a similar process, but with the same result."
"The cost of production being too great?" observed Nick.
"Precisely."
"Do you think that difficulty has now been overcome?"
"I am compelled to think so, Mr. Carter," cried Pylotte, pointing to the two diamonds on the table.
"You purchased them at a price compelling that belief?"
"Exactly."
"Then you think the man of whom you got them has discovered a way to make such perfect artificial diamonds at a low price?"
"I certainly do, Mr. Carter."
"Have you any idea of the machinery and ingredients he might require?" asked Nick, with a view to getting points by which to locate the diamond plant.
Pylotte could easily inform him, and he promptly did so, following the instructions given him by Dave Kilgore.
"He would require an electric furnace and a hydraulic press," said he. "Also the tools for cutting the crude crystals. The ingredients used would depend upon the process he has discovered, probably coal or charcoal, and possibly some quantities of iron salts and sulphur."
"In brief, then, Mr. Pylotte," said Nick, pointing to the diamonds on the table, "if those stones were made as cheaply as you think, the diamond market offers the manufacturers of them a field for a most gigantic swindle, does it not?"
"Indeed it does!" exclaimed Pylotte, throwing up both hands. "Enormous! Enormous! Millions could be made by so unparalleled a fraud!"
"It opens the way, in fact, to the most colossal swindle on record?"
"Undoubtedly."
Nick glanced significantly at Chick, then abruptly rose to his feet. That he had struck the big game which from the first he had suspected, he now had not a doubt.
"I require no more of you at present, Mr. Pylotte," said he, with courteous firmness. "I shall do all in my power to remedy your loss by this swindle, and to secure the perpetrators of it."
"Thank you, Detective Carter," bowed Pylotte, with a crafty display of appreciation and humility.
"Meantime," added Nick, "you will please take no action in the case, but leave it entirely to me."
"I will do so, sir."
"If you will leave me your city address, or call here again in a few days, I shall have something to report to you."
"I will call the day after to-morrow, Detective Carter," said Pylotte, promptly, too cunning to give Nick a fictitious address.
"Very well," said Nick. "Call in the evening. And now, Mr. Pylotte, we will bid you good-morning, and get to work at once upon the case."
Pylotte bowed very agreeably, taking his artificial diamonds from the table and replacing them in his pocket; and Nick then conducted him to the door, again assuring him that no efforts in his behalf should be spared.
Pylotte once more expressed his thanks, bowing and smiling as he descended the steps, and Nick closed the door and returned to the library.
"Well, Chick, the bag is open and the cat out," he cried, as he entered.
"Right you are, Nick."
"And a monstrous cat it is!"
"Never a larger one," declared Chick, with a laugh. "By Jove! Nick, if Kilgore has really found a way to produce such perfect counterfeit diamonds, his gang could work the greatest swindle ever known, unless headed off."
"That is their game, all right," said Nick. "From the very first I have suspected something extraordinary. They are not the stamp of criminals to dicker with petty jobs."
"I should say not."
"Far from it."
"One thing is plain."
"Namely?"
"Where Cervera gets her diamonds, and of what they consist."
"True. She certainly is one of the gang."
"With such counterfeits as those worked upon Pylotte, and one big jewelry concern to help market the goods, they could clean up millions in a very short time."
"No doubt of it. And they have their jewelry concern, all right."
"Venner & Co.?"
"Surely."
"We must get absolute proof of it."
"That's just what I intend doing, now that we have the game uncovered," said Nick, grimly.
"And then proceed to locate the plant where the goods are made, eh?"
"Precisely."
"What are your plans?"
"We'll first get a line on Venner, and see to what it leads," replied Nick. "There now is a way by which we can call the turn on him, and get proof of his co-operation with Kilgore and his gang."
"By getting him to sell us some diamonds?"
"Exactly."
"And then proving them to be artificial?"
"That's the idea."
"Can you get at him in a way to trap him?"
"What do you mean?"
"He may fight shy of us," suggested Chick, "in case he knows of Pylotte's scrap with the gang last night. He may fear that Pylotte has discovered the fraud, and reported it to the police."
"There's not much danger of that," replied Nick. "So stupendous a fraud would at once be given publicity through the press."
"That's true."
"In either case," added Nick, abruptly, "there's a way by which we can fool him. I'll explain it on the way. Get your make-up box and prepare to go with me. Since we have the game uncovered, we'll lose no time in rounding up these accomplished rascals."
"Good enough!" exclaimed Chick, as he hurriedly arose. "The sooner the better."
"We may have ragged work before the job is completed," added Nick. "So provide yourself with a brace of guns. I'll be ready when you are."
"Where first?"
"To the house of Pandu Singe, the snake charmer."
It was not quite noon when Nick Carter and Chick arrived at the house of the Hindoo snake charmer.
They found Pandu Singe at home with his interpreter, and the two detectives were very cordially received.
Nick quickly disclosed his business.
"We wish to borrow your personalities for a short time, also some of your curious garments," he explained to Pandu Singe, through his interpreter, who also was a Hindoo of superior education.
The snake charmer appeared greatly surprised at such a request, but Nick readily invented a very plausible story to serve his purpose, without disclosing the true occasion.
He soon persuaded the foreigner to grant his request, moreover, and the amazement of Pandu Singe and the interpreter were redoubled when they beheld what followed.
This was the extraordinary transformation of their visitors.
Nick had already outlined his plans to Chick, and they at once began operations.
First they placed the two Hindoos in chairs near the windows, where the light revealed every peculiarity of their swarthy features.
Nick next adjusted a large mirror upon the table, and placed his make-up box near by.
Using the interpreter for his pattern, Nick then set to work with grease paints, powders, false hair, and the like, and at the end of twenty minutes he had, with most artistic skill, converted himself into a startling likeness of his model.
The addition of the garments already provided for him made the remarkable transformation absolutely complete.
Chick had not been idle meantime, but with equally clever manipulation had made himself into a counterfeit presentment of Pandu Singe.
The astonishment of the two Hindoos, and their delight as they beheld the progressive changes so artistically made, could scarcely find expression in words.
At the end of an hour, when the two detectives stood robed in their strange Indian attire, one would readily have declared that four genuine Hindoos, rather than two, occupied the apartment.
Having thus paved the way to his next move, Nick easily prevailed upon the Hindoos to remain indoors for a day or two, lest the deception should be discovered and his designs perverted.
He and Chick then returned to their waiting carriage, and half an hour later it drew up at the Fifth Avenue store of Venner & Co.
Chick alighted and led the way in.
In order that he might do most of the talking, and shape his course by whatever might occur, Nick had decided to personate the interpreter.
Yet both detectives had carefully noticed the peculiar characteristics of the Hindoo tongue, and believed that they could imitate it so cleverly as to prevent detection.
Several facts, which Nick then had no way of knowing, however, operated very quickly to betray him and the crafty ruse he had adopted, when Venner personally met them at the store door.
First, Kilgore had shrewdly reasoned that Nick's first move, after the disclosures made by Pylotte, would be that of thus getting positive evidence against Venner; and the crafty diamond swindler had warned Venner to be on the watch for the detective, and to handle him in a way to serve their own designs.
Furthermore, when visiting the theater with Cervera, Venner frequently had heard Pandu Singe talking with his interpreter; and before Nick fairly had begun speaking, Venner penetrated his disguise and saw that he was up against the two detectives.
Yet, despite the unexpected characters in which he now beheld them, the nerve of the polished knave did not weaken, nor his countenance in any way betray him. He at once proceeded to follow Kilgore's instructions.
"Ah! yes, I recognize both you and your interpreter," said he, in reply to Nick's dignified greeting. "I have frequently seen Pandu Singe at the theater, where I am admitted to the stage with Señora Cervera, the famous Spanish dancer. Perhaps Pandu Singe may have seen me there."
Nick gravely bowed, then pretended to interpret the remarks to Chick; who immediately began to bow and smile, at the same time glibly responding in a jargon that would have staggered a Chinese laundryman, yet which sounded as much like Hindoo as anything.
Had his own situation been less serious, and the entire outlook less desperate, Venner would have laughed at the consummate dignity and soberness with which the two detectives co-operated in their exchange of unintelligible talk.
"My employer, the great Pandu Singe," bowed Nick, "says he remembers the friend of the great Cervera."
"Ah! I am glad to hear it," cried Venner, shaking hands with Chick.
"He has seen the splendid diamonds of the great señora, and has heard that they came from your magnificent store," Nick then went on to explain.
"That is quite right," bowed Venner. "Many of them did come from here. Is Pandu Singe looking for some diamonds?"
Nick promptly bowed, and noted a gleam of satisfaction in the depths of Venner's eyes.
"The great Pandu Singe soon returns to his own country," replied Nick. "He wishes to take with him, as a gift to her august excellency, the Empress of all the Indies, six fine jewels of equal weight and value. He calls here to learn if you can provide him with them."
Venner plainly saw the game that was being attempted, and it suited him to the very letter.
"Does the great Pandu Singe wish to purchase diamonds?" he asked, bowing.
"Diamonds, yes! Are they not for the empress?"
"I should have thought of that, certainly."
"Only diamonds will answer."
"Of large size and the first water?"
"The great Pandu Singe would consider no other."
"Alas, then, this is most unfortunate!" Venner now exclaimed, glancing about the store. "You see that we are making some repairs here, in the walls of our store and vault."
"That is plain," bowed Nick. "But what has that to do with the diamonds?"
"Only this," replied Venner, with feigned regret. "During these repairs I have removed all of my most valuable diamonds to a vault in my private residence."
"For safer keeping?"
"Exactly."
"I will explain to Pandu Singe."
"Wait a moment," Venner quickly interposed. "Tell him, also, that I have at my residence the very gems he desires, six magnificent diamonds, precisely alike in weight, purity and cutting. They cannot be equaled in New York City, if in the entire country."
"Are they fit for an empress?"
"They are fit for a goddess."
"Ah! that will please Pandu Singe."
"Tell him, also, that he can purchase them at a marvelously low price," cried Venner. "Now, if Pandu Singe will come to my house, say early this evening, he may see the diamonds and examine them at his leisure. Tell him that, Mr. Interpreter, and say that I will send my carriage for him immediately after dinner. Say, too, that he may then see the diamonds both by daylight and lamplight, and so observe all the variety of their magnificent fire. Really, this will be greatly to the advantage of Pandu Singe."
Nick gravely heard him to a finish, and with never a change of countenance.
Yet, like a flash, one of those marvelous intuitions characteristic of this great detective, Nick Carter had suddenly grasped the whole truth.
That conflict of the previous night, the flight of three of the diamond gang, Pylotte left comparatively uninjured in the road, his subsequent disclosures, his extensive knowledge of the diamond-making art, the hints he had imparted, and now this manifest eagerness of Venner to lure his ostensible customers to his suburban house—all combined to reveal to Nick's keen mind the shrewd game by which Kilgore was hoping to entrap him.
Nick now knew that Venner recognized both Chick and himself, and was serving only the Kilgore gang.
Yet Nick bowed without the slightest self-betrayal, and said, gravely:
"I will explain the situation to Pandu Singe."
For several minutes the two detectives maintained their curious game of talk.
Then Nick, who had speedily planned his own counter-move, again turned to Rufus Venner.
"The great Pandu Singe will do what you suggest," said he. "He wishes to see the diamonds, and will be pleased to come to your house."
Venner had felt sure of this to start with, though he little dreamed that Nick had guessed the truth, and knew that he was recognized.
"Let it be to-day, then," said he, quickly.
"At your own pleasure," bowed Nick.
"I will send my carriage far you at seven this evening," cried Venner, with secret exultation.
Nick gravely tendered one of the snake charmer's cards.
"The great Pandu Singe will not keep your carriage waiting!" said he, with a dryness to which Venner then was blind.
"Well, Chick, what say you to that?" demanded Nick, as they were returning to the house of the snake charmer.
Chick laughed grimly.
"I say that we are now up against it."
"Right! There's a mighty wicked crisis near at hand."
"No doubt of it, Nick. Venner knew us all right."
"But he does not suspect that we are aware that he knew us, and in that at least we have the best of him."
"We'll turn it to a good account, too."
"Do you see the game this Kilgore gang is playing?"
"Plainly, Nick."
"They aim to lure us both to Venner's house, and there trap us and do us up."
"To which latter," said Chick, dryly, "we shall strenuously object."
"Well, rather!" laughed Nick. "Still, I can see nothing in evading this question or in making a raid upon Venner's house. If the Kilgore gang are about to lay for us there, it is evident that their diamond plant is located elsewhere. They would not take chances of failing to down us, and then having their plant discovered in the house where they slipped up."
"Surely not," admitted Chick. "Kilgore is too shrewd to take those chances."
"Undoubtedly."
For several minutes Nick calmly considered the situation, then bluntly observed:
"Chick, I see but one course for us. We must go up against the game, and give this gang what rope they want."
"That's just my idea, Nick."
"In no other way can we make sure of nailing the entire gang, and also locating their plant. Raiding Venner's house would not accomplish it. Some of the gang might not be there, or possibly escape us, and we might search in vain for their plant. Then we should have most of our work to do over again."
"That's right, Nick."
"So we'll take the one sure way, Chick," said Nick, decisively. "We'll let this gang continue to think they are fooling us, and go up against them till we get the whole truth."
"That's good enough for me, Nick," nodded Chick. "I'm with you."
"It may prove to be a desperate game, but we'll take our chances. Before night I'll have laid such plans as will best serve us, and possibly circumvent these scoundrels. Here we are at the house of Pandu Singe."
Nick dismissed their carriage, and entered the dwelling, where they decided to remain until evening. Meantime Nick perfected his plans and discussed them with Chick.
Then a wire was sent to Patsy, the detective's younger assistant, with careful instructions.
Seven o'clock came, then half-past seven, but no sign of Venner's carriage.
Nick readily suspected the true reason for the delay.
"They are waiting until dark," he observed to Chick. "They don't want our arrival at Venner's house to be observed. A crafty dog, this Kilgore!"
"That he is."
"Never mind. Darkness will serve us best, as well as them."
"Hark! There's a carriage."
Nick glanced from the front window.
"A landau!" he muttered, with grim satisfaction. "Yes, and with Spotty Dalton on the seat. I know him, despite his disguise. Come on, Chick! There's rough work to be done in the next two hours."
Spotty Dalton stood at the door of the open carriage when Nick and Chick emerged from the house, still clad in the character of Hindoos.
"Are you sent here by Mr. Venner?" inquired Nick.
Dalton touched the cloth cap drawn low over his brow, and stroked his dark, false beard as he replied:
"Yes, sir," said he, half in his throat. "You're the interpreter, I take it."
"At your service."
"I'm a bit late, but it couldn't be helped. We'll not be long in getting there."
"Time does not matter to the great Pandu Singe," replied Nick, as he followed Chick into the open landau. "The night is still long."
"It'll be infernally long for you two meddlers," Dalton grimly said to himself, as he banged the carriage door and mounted to the box.
Then they rolled rapidly away toward a northern suburb of the city.
The dusk of evening was already deepening to darkness, a gloom more noticeable far up in the heavens than among the myriad of lights in the city streets. For not a star was visible in the murky sky, and away in the west huge banks of inky clouds were sweeping up toward the zenith, indicating the rapid approach of a sudden storm.
"Do you think it is going to rain, driver?" called Nick, from the rear seat of the carriage.
"Not soon," Dalton turned to answer; and then he added with grim significance, which he did not dream would be appreciated: "Whether it rains or not, you'll be brought back home in a closed carriage."
"It's my private opinion that the boot will be on the other leg," thought Nick, smiling faintly at the scoundrel's grim levity.
For Dalton had implied that Nick would be brought back in a hearse.
From that time but few words were spoken during the ride, though the detectives occasionally passed a remark in their meaningless lingo, merely to keep up appearances.
At eight o'clock they had left the throbbing body of the city behind them, and at half-past eight they were speeding along the deserted suburban road leading to Venner's rather isolated homestead.
Only the yellow glare of an incandescent lamp here and there now relieved the terrestrial gloom, but across the distant heavens intermittent flashes of light, followed by the low, sullen roll of thunder, told of the approaching storm.
Soon the lighted windows of Venner's house came into view through the woodland, and Nick now murmured softly to Chick:
"If I fail to rejoin you in ten minutes, you will know what to do."
"You bet!" whispered Chick. "Trust me to do it, too!"
"Here we are, sirs," cried Dalton, as he pulled up at the gate of the gravel walk. "You can go right in, while I wait to look after my horses."
Chick—as Pandu Singe—pretended to give Nick a brief command, and Nick alone sprang out upon the sidewalk.
"Wait here, driver," said he, curtly. "I will return for Pandu Singe in a few minutes."
Dalton instantly became suspicious.
"What's that for?" he abruptly demanded. "Why doesn't his nibs go in with you now?"
"It is for me to obey the great Pandu Singe, not question his commands," replied Nick, with an air of offended dignity. "I shall return for him when I have followed his instructions."
"Hold on a bit! I want to know—"
But Nick had already turned, and was striding up the long gravel walk leading to the front door of the house.
Dalton then swung round and began to address Chick, who quickly signified that he could not understand; whereupon the puzzled scoundrel remained doubtfully on the box, growling under his breath, and quite at a loss just what he should do.
Chick was now counting the seconds and minutes, until he should arrive at ten.
Venner, who was waiting with the gang in the house, heard Nick's step on the wooden veranda, and he hastened to admit him.
"What's this!" he at once exclaimed, starting. "Where is your master? You did not come here alone!"
"No, not alone," replied Nick, entering the hall. "Pandu Singe waits in the carriage."
"Waits in the carriage! For what?"
"He fears the storm may break."
"Fears the storm!" exclaimed Venner, with a blaze of suspicion leaping up in his dark eyes. "Surely, then, he will not remain out there."
"You don't understand," coolly answered Nick, quickly sizing up everything in view.
"Don't understand?"
"Pandu Singe thinks of returning home before the storm shall break. He has first sent me in to see the diamonds, as I know just what he wants. If I think well of them, I am to return to the carriage and bring him in to see them."
"Oh, that's it, eh?" cried Venner, with unabated misgivings.
"Am I to see the stones?" demanded Nick. "Pandu Singe will not care to wait long."
"Yes, yes," replied Venner, as perplexed as Dalton by Nick's unexpected move. "Come out this way, where I have them ready to show you."
Nick bowed and followed him through the hall, and a glance into the two front rooms, both of which were well lighted, told him they were vacant.
Nick knew that he was entering a trap, however, and possibly carried his life in his hand. Yet he had several shrewd designs in the plan of operations adopted.
He aimed to prevent both Chick and himself being cornered, and possibly caught at the same time. Not wishing to evade this gang, and thus reveal his own knowledge and suspicions, he designed to leave Chick free to act in case of his own downfall.
Nick knew that he alone could force Venner and the gang to show their hands, even if it resulted in his own capture. He rather invited the latter, in fact, for he knew that the gang would see the need of instantly removing him from Venner's house, at least until they could lay hands upon Chick. In this case Nick believed that they might be compelled to confine him at their diamond plant, the location of which he thus hoped to discover.
For these reasons Nick was coolly taking very long chances, at the same time leaving Chick free to quickly get in his work, in case he himself went down at the outset.
Yet there was not a sign of any person save Venner, as Nick followed him through the hall and into a side room near the rear of the house, evidently a dining room.
Nick sized it up with a glance. Electric chandelier; two doors, one by which he had entered from the hall, and the other leading into a dark kitchen; two windows, with the curtains closely drawn; several chairs, a handsome sideboard, and in the middle of the room a large, square table, covered with a rich damask cloth hanging nearly to the floor.
Upon the table was also spread a piece of black velvet, on which was displayed nearly a score of blazing diamonds—the most magnificent artificial stones ever born of man's restless genius.
Nick rightly guessed their true character, yet he allowed an ejaculation of admiration to escape him.
"Ah! Magnificent!"
"Look them over," cried Venner, with a swift scrutiny of Nick's swarthy features. "You'll excuse me for a minute or two. I wish to make sure that my rear windows and doors are locked. Such gems are a terrible temptation to thieves."
"True, sir," bowed Nick. "Take your time. Meanwhile I'll examine the diamonds. They are splendid! magnificent!"
Nick rightly guessed that Venner wished to consult some of the gang. He saw that his entering the house without Chick had thrown their plans badly out of gear, as he had designed for it to do.
Venner went into the dark kitchen, rattled a doorknob merely for a bluff, then crossed the hall and entered the library, closing the door behind him.
The room was but dimly lighted, and on the floor stood Dave Kilgore and Matthew Stall, each with a drawn revolver.
"What's the meaning of this, Rufe?" Kilgore instantly demanded, in passionate whispers.
"How do I know?" Venner hurriedly rejoined, scarce above his breath. "You heard what he said?"
"Yes, curse him, but I don't swallow it."
"Nor I."
"I can't see into his game."
"That's just my trouble," cried Venner. "Can he have discovered that we recognize him?"
"Impossible! Pylotte is too cunning to have betrayed us in any way."
This was very true, in fact; but Venner himself had blindly done the betraying.
"It doesn't matter, Rufe," Kilgore fiercely added. "We must get them both."
"That's my idea."
"And it's all the easier to get them one at a time."
"Right you are, Dave."
"Has he discovered Pylotte?"
"Surely not!"
"Go back there, then," hissed Kilgore. "Learn what his game is, if you can. Force him to show his hand."
"Leave that to me."
"Waste no time, however, and on no pretext let him leave the house to return to the carriage."
"Not on our lives."
"A warning whistle will start Pylotte, and we'll be on hand to do our part," added Kilgore, hurriedly. "Go back at once, and waste not a moment in getting at his game."
"Trust me, Dave."
"We must land Nick Carter and get him away from here before that running mate of his can make any move against us."
"That's the stuff."
"And then we'll plan to get the other. Away with you!"
These forcible measures were precisely what Nick had felt sure would be adopted by the gang, and were the very steps to which he had so shrewdly planned to force them.
Venner darted softly across the hall and returned to the dining room.
Nick was still examining the diamonds.
He stood near the table, at a point midway between the two open doors. He had selected this position for a very good reason. He was inviting capture and removal, which he knew must be preceded by an assault; and he therefore laid himself open from either side, aiming to be put down and out with as little violence as possible.
He wanted all his resources for what he knew was very likely to follow.
Nick was quite as anxious as the gang to force matters, moreover; for at the end of ten minutes, in case he did not return to the carriage, Chick was to begin getting in his work.
Therefore the climax came quickly.
Six minutes had already passed.
"Well, sir, what do you think of them?" cried Venner, as he returned to the room.
"The diamonds?" queried Nick, tossing several of them back upon the table.
"Certainly. What else?"
"They are all right, Mr. Venner."
"I thought you would say so."
"Yes, indeed. They are all right—for what they are!"
"For what they are?"
"Precisely."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do?" snarled Venner, inquiringly, with his frowning eyes shrinking from Nick's steadfast gaze.
"Certainly you do," declared Nick. "These diamonds are imitations, not natural stones. They are the most perfect and marvelous artificial diamonds ever made.
"Artificial!" cried Venner, now drawing back. "You are mad, sir! Why, man, you are away off the track!"
"Oh, no, I'm not."
"You are!"
"Not off the track at all, but very squarely on it," Nick now retorted, speaking in his own sternly resonant tones. "Hark you, Venner, I am the one to ask the meaning of this, not you!"
Venner's hand went stealing toward his hip pocket.
"So you are showing your true colors, are you?" he cried, with threatening significance. "By Heaven, you are no Hindoo!"
"That's right, Venner, I am not," said Nick, quickly throwing off the loose robe that hid his own apparel, fearing it might impede his movements. "I am no Hindoo, but am—"
"Nick Carter!"
"Exactly!"
"So this is your game, is it?" Venner fiercely began. "If you think—"
"Stop right there, Venner," Nick sternly commanded. "Speaking of games, I am here to discover what sort of a rascally game you and this Kilgore gang are playing. I have learned enough to show me that you are a knave and a—"
"By heavens, Carter—"
"Stop!" thundered Nick. "Don't pull a gun! If you do, I'll end your—"
But he got no further, for there the climax came.
A single sharp whistle sounded from the kitchen.
Instantly Nick felt a rope noose jerked taut around his ankles, nearly throwing him from his feet.
From beneath the table, the hanging cover of which had effectually concealed him, Jean Pylotte had managed to adjust the noose upon the floor about Nick's legs. At the signal given him, he had quickly drawn it taut.
At the same moment Kilgore and Matt Stall leaped upon Nick from the kitchen and hall doors, bearing him heavily to the floor, while Venner ran to clap a revolver to the detective's head.
"Hang to his feet, Pylotte," cried Kilgore, fiercely.
"I've got 'em fast," shouted the diamond maker, from under the table.
"Quit, Carter, or I'll blow your brains out," commanded Venner, with his pistol at Nick's head.
Nick had been making a great bluff at putting up an ugly fight, but now he very agreeably subsided.
The affair was going precisely as he desired, yet for the sake of appearances he angrily snarled:
"Let up, you dogs! So this is your game, is it? Turn that gun another way, Venner, you miscreant! It might go off, and I'm not fool enough to invite its contents. This dirty game that you've played—"
"Dry up!" Kilgore sharply interrupted, while he and Stall quickly secured Nick's arms with a rope. "You'll not live to know the game that we have played, Nick Carter."
"Won't I?"
"Not if I live!" cried Kilgore, with vicious significance.
"Well, maybe you'll not live long," retorted Nick.
"I'll close that saucy trap of yours, at all events," sneered Kilgore. "Give me that gag, Matt—quick."
Nick no longer resisted. A glance at the clock on the mantel told him that nearly ten minutes had passed since he left Chick. He suffered himself to be gagged, then raised to his feet, from which Pylotte now cast the line and emerged from under the table.
Nick bestowed one look upon him, from which the rascal shrank and shuddered.
Kilgore now turned quickly to Venner, and hurriedly cried:
"You remain here, Rufe, and leave us to dispose of this fellow. We'll run him over yonder, and return as quickly as possible. It's not safe to keep him here until we have landed his running mate."
"But—"
"Don't stop for buts!" cried Kilgore, fiercely. "Go see if you can sight Chick Carter. If he is still in the carriage, we are all right up to now. In six or eight minutes go down there and give him to understand that his interpreter wants him to come in here. Before you reach this room with him, we three will be back to help you turn him down. Do you understand?"
"Sure!" cried Venner, thrusting his weapon back in his pocket. "He cannot suspect that we have recognized Nick, and he'll come in, all right."
"Go, then! We'll be back here in six minutes."
Venner hastened to one of the front windows of the house and peered out toward the street. At that moment a flash of lightning, followed by the nearer roll of thunder, dispelled for an instant the intense gloom of the night.
A growl of profound satisfaction broke from Venner while he gazed, and he muttered exultingly:
"By Heaven! we're all right! He's waiting in the carriage, and Dalton is still on the box!"
Nick was being pushed out of a back door of the house, meantime, and then across the lawn and through the dark stable.
The ruffians who were hurrying him away did not stop there, however. Pylotte ran on ahead, while Kilgore and Matt Stall continued urging the detective across the grounds, making toward the old wooden mansion in which their secret plant was located.
It seemed to them the safest place in which to confine Nick, pending the delay in getting hands upon Chick.
Presently they came to a dry ditch, walled at each side, and originally built for draining the low meadows between the two estates. Into this they plunged, following it until they arrived near a wooden bulkhead in the foundation wall of the house. This was the secret way of entering, to which Cervera had referred the previous night.
Pylotte already had opened it, and Nick was quickly forced through a dark cellar.
"All right," cried Kilgore. "Let us in."
Instantly the secret stone door was thrown open, and Nick was nearly blinded by the flood of light in the room into which he was abruptly thrust.
He stood in the subterranean chamber of the diamond plant.
And there, erect on the floor, with her evil countenance a picture of malicious triumph, stood his crafty combatant of the previous night—Sanetta Cervera.
"Caramba!" she cried, shrilly, with a vicious laugh. "So you've got him! Well done, Dave! Well done!"
"Yes, and we'll presently have the other," cried Kilgore, panting hard after his exertions.
"Good for you, Dave," screamed Cervera, exultingly. "But this is the one I want most—this is the one!"
"Look lively, Matt. Lend a hand here, and we'll bind him to yonder chair."
"And leave Cervera to guard him, eh?"
"That's the stuff."
"Can she do it?"
"Can she!" growled Kilgore, with derisive vehemence. "You let her alone for that."
"Yes, yes, let me alone for that!"
"We must get back to stand by Venner. That Chick Carter is nearly as tough a customer as this fellow."
"I guess you'll find that that's no dream," said Nick to himself, as the ruffians bound him to the chair mentioned.
Cervera was laughing and capering around as if about to have a fit—yet her laugh had a terrible and chilling ring.
"Oh, yes, I'll guard him, Dave," she shrilly cried, with a frightful menace in her strained voice. "Caramba, yes! let me alone for that."
"So I do," snarled Kilgore.
"Knot the line fast, Matt—make sure of that," the woman fiercely added. "Yes, I'll keep him quiet—never doubt that, boys! He shall be like a baby taking milk. Perdition! but you shall have a sweet time, Mr. Nick, alone here with Sanetta Cervera!"
Kilgore paid but little attention to any of this, and only now and then bestowed a glance upon the vicious woman.
Within a minute after their arrival at the plant, the gang had Nick securely bound to a common wooden chair, when they condescended to remove the gag from his mouth.
"He may shout himself hoarse here, if he likes," growled Kilgore. "There will be none to hear him."
Then he hurried Pylotte and Matt Stall back to the Venner house, to land Chick Carter.
Left alone with Nick, Cervera darted to the stone door in the solid wall, and secured it within.
There was murder in her glittering eyes when she shot the heavy bolts into their iron sockets.