THE DIAMOND PLANT.
"This does settle it!"
"What do you mean, Dave?"
"It must be done?"
"We must get these Carters—that's what! If we don't get them, Spotty—you take my word for it—they'll get us!"
"Do you really think so, Dave?"
"Not think, but know so!" declared Kilgore, with emphasis. "I know these Carters, root and branch. They have now struck our trail, and they'll stick to it like bloodhounds till they run us down—unless we get them! It must be done, I say, and done promptly."
"Put them down and out?"
"Exactly. It's them—or us!"
"And why do you think, all of a sudden, Dave, that Nick Carter is so hot on our heels?"
"I'll tell you why, Spotty."
And Mr. David Kilgore, chief of the notorious diamond gang bearing his name, and one of the keenest and coolest criminals in or out of prison walls, removed his pipe from his mouth and his heels from the edge of the table, and drew forward in his chair to explain.
It was a curious place, that in which the speakers of the above were seated, in the bright glare of an electric light.
It was inclosed with four solid stone walls, with not a window or aperture through which a ray of light could be detected from outside.
Yet in one of the walls was a low, narrow door, also of stone, and so cleverly constructed and fitted that, when swung into place in the wall, it was comparatively beyond the detection of anybody ignorant of its existence. This door then stood open, but the aperture through the wall was heavily curtained.
Three of these walls formed the original foundation of an old and extensive suburban mansion, the location, ownership and present use of which will presently appear. The fourth wall, that with the door, was of more recent construction, and was built squarely across the original cellar of the house. It had been made to mask this secret subterranean chamber in which the Kilgore gang was then gathered.
The place was commodious, and contained some noteworthy objects. In one corner was a powerful hydraulic press. Near by was a splendid electrical furnace, capable of generating an extraordinary degree of heat. Against the adjoining wall were several barrels of sulphur, of which only one was unheaded. Near by was a large box of anthracite coal, black and glistening in the rays of the arc light.
Parallel with the opposite wall was a workbench, laden with curious retorts, crucibles, test tubes, metal molds, and no end of tools, all of which plainly suggested the work of one versed both in chemistry and some mechanical art.
In the middle of the room was a square deal table, at which Kilgore was seated, with Matt Stall and Spotty Dalton, the original three of the Kilgore gang.
Two other persons were present, however, and they were engaged in examining some work on the bench mentioned.
One of them was a tall, angular Frenchman, about sixty years of age, named Jean Pylotte. He had a slender figure, somewhat bowed; but his head was massive, in which his gleaming, gray eyes were deeply sunk, like those of a tireless student and hard worker.
His companion at the bench just then was Sanetta Cervera, the Spanish dancer—the murderess of Mary Barton—the vicious dare-devil who had served Nick Carter one of her evil tricks that very evening.
Cervera had arrived at the diamond plant less than an hour before, and had hurriedly told her confederates the whole story of her crime and her adventure with Nick.
Crime was too common with these outlaws, however, and loyalty to one another too natural, for Kilgore to censure his only female confederate very severely. Yet as Kilgore now proceeded to explain, her crime had rendered their situation decidedly more alarming.
"I'll tell you why these Carters are now to be seriously feared," said he, nodding grimly at his hearers. "This last move of Cervera has hurt us severely."
"In what way?" demanded Spotty Dalton, the pock-marked chap who had relieved Venner's partner of the Hafferman diamonds about two weeks before. "I don't see just how, Dave."
"No more do I," put in Matt Stall.
"You'll see," replied Kilgore, "when I run over a few facts which led to our being here, and at work on our present game."
"Well, Dave, we're listening."
"One year ago we three were in Amsterdam, Holland, weren't we?"
"Sure."
"At work on a different kind of a game?"
"Yes."
"Only we three were then in the gang."
"That's right, Dave. Now there are seven of us, counting Venner and his partner."
"It was in Amsterdam that we first met her nibs," continued Kilgore, with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of Cervera, who was so engaged with Pylotte that neither heeded the talk at the table.
"Yes, Dave, we met her just a year ago," nodded Dalton.
"She was then doing her dances in a theater there, and we naturally got our peepers onto her diamonds," Kilgore went on to narrate. "You fellows already know the scheme by which we tried to relieve her of them, which we came so near doing."
"Well, rather," grinned Dalton, as if the reminiscence was amusing.
"Then we learned from her own lips, and greatly to our surprise, that her sparks were not the real thing," smiled Kilgore. "At first we could not believe it. The goods deceived even us, old hands though we are. It was only when she told us about Pylotte, and the secret process by which he makes such extraordinary imitations, that we could believe her."
"That's right, Dave."
"She had stumbled by chance upon this clever French chemist and diamond cutter, and was working him to the extent of her ability. She even had got wise to his secret, and he was loading her with his marvelous gems in return for her affection. But we at once saw the way to something much more profitable, a game for making millions out of Pylotte's great discovery."
"Right again, Dave."
"So we told them about it, and found them willing," continued Kilgore. "We rung them into our gang, and planned the whole deal. We knew it would be dead easy to work off such clever stones for genuine goods. With plenty of such sparks on hand, and one big and reputable jeweler to help us work the market, the distribution of our goods and their substitution for genuine stones would quickly throw a cool million or two our way."
"Dead easy, Dave."
"But we decided that New York was the best field for such a gigantic enterprise," added Kilgore. "So we came here. With the help of Cervera, we got our grip on Venner, and then on his avaricious partner, Garside, whose business happened to be on its last legs. So they snapped like hungry fish at this chance to square themselves, by secretly swindling their own customers, and shoving our manufactured diamonds upon the entire market."
"Like hungry fish—h'm! that's no name for it," cried Matt Stall, with a mingled growl and laugh. "Rufe Venner was as ready to become a knave as any covey I ever crossed."
"So we established this plant for Pylotte to do his clever work in," continued Kilgore, disregarding the interruption. "Luckily, Venner already owned this old mansion, as well as that in which he lives; and fortunately, both places are somewhat secluded, with extensive grounds abutting. That enabled us to frame up a very snug and safe retreat."
"Sure it did."
"So we went to work," Kilgore proceeded, discursively. "We built our plant, placed our machinery, rigged a private telephone between this house and Venner's, and tapped the electric conduit with a secret wire, to give us light and feed our furnace."
"That was my work," nodded Stall, with a touch of pride.
"Right you are, Matt, and mighty good work, too," bowed Kilgore. "In a nutshell, boys, after two months' secret work, we have accomplished all we planned, and now have Venner sliding our goods upon the market at a fabulous profit. In a single year, barring these infernal Carters, every man of us should be a millionaire."
"But why this sudden fear of the Carters?" growled Dalton, impatiently.
"I'll now tell you why," cried Kilgore, with voice lowered, and an ugly gleam in his frowning eyes. "We cannot sack Cervera, nor put out her light, for she's too good and strong a card for us to lose. But in losing her head over Venner, and jealously doing up that girl to-day, she has given the Carters a clew by which to track us."
"How so, Dave?" muttered Stall, growing a bit pale.
"Through Venner, of course!" Kilgore forcibly argued. "Until this job of to-day, Carter has had no definite suspicion of Venner, a possibility which we headed off with that fake robbery. Now, however, since Cervera must lie low, and Carter knows of her relations with Venner, he will suspect the latter and make him a constant mark, in the hope of landing the girl."
"By Heaven, that's so!" snarled Dalton, quickly seeing the point.
"And that's not the worst of it," added Kilgore. "The moment he suspects Venner, Carter will connect him with us, and know that that robbery was a put-up job. Then he'll begin to seek us and our game."
"But how can he locate us?"
"Locate us?" sneered Kilgore, acidly. "You don't know Nick Carter! I'll tell you, Spotty, he can smell a rat further than any ferret that ever shoved his nose under a miller's barn. As sure as death and taxes, Nick Carter will run us down and land us, every mother's son of us—unless we can get him, and put him down and out."
"By Heaven, I begin to think so myself," growled Stall. "If we—"
"There are no ifs, ands or buts about it, Matt," interrupted Kilgore, decisively. "We must down them both, Nick and Chick Carter, or our game is as good as done for."
"But how can we land them, Dave, and when?"
"I already have a plan, and I think the first move may be made this very night."
"What's the plan, Dave?"
"To lure both detectives into Venner's house, and there do them up. If we can get them to come there voluntarily, their fate may never be learned, and our tracks will be better covered than by doing the job elsewhere."
"That's true enough, since they're not likely to disclose their intentions, and if they come in disguise, no one about here will have recognized them."
"That's just my theory."
"But how can we lure them to Venner's house?"
"With the help of Pylotte, whom they do not know, nor ever heard of. He's a brainy dog, moreover, and crafty enough to blind them."
"But what's your scheme for to-night?" demanded Dalton.
"After what has happened," replied Kilgore, "it's a safe gamble that the Carters are at this moment watching Venner's house. If they are—but wait a bit! First hear my whole plan."
The three criminals drew their chairs closer, and in a very few minutes Kilgore had disclosed his entire design, a scheme so recklessly bold that it brought murmurs of amazement and misgivings from both his hearers, daring knaves though they were.
"It strikes me, Dave, that it's too long a chance for us to take, this giving Nick Carter a genuine clew to our game," objected Dalton, doubtfully.
"But no other clew will answer," declared Kilgore, forcibly. "You cannot fool Nick Carter with any false move or faked story; I'm already sure of that."
"So am I," nodded Stall. "He's too wise a guy to fool with."
"We are compelled to give him the real thing, and make him feel that he is up against a square deal, or no man among us can work the racket," added Kilgore. "With my scheme, however, Pylotte is just the covey to do the job, and land both Carters where we want them."
"And then?"
"Then it's our ability against theirs," snarled Kilgore, "If we go lame, with the odds all in our favor, we deserve to be thrown down."
"That's right, too," admitted Dalton.
"Will Pylotte undertake this sort of a job, think you?" inquired Matt Stall.
"Will he?" rejoined Kilgore, with an ugly gleam in his determined eyes. "He will, or—well, you know! Yes, Matt, he will; and he's just the man for the job."
The vicious significance with which he spoke plainly indicated that, though Cervera may have ruled her own roost, there was but one chief of this gang, and that was Mr. David Kilgore.
He turned sharply about in his chair, and cried:
"Here you, Pylotte! Come and give us your ear! I have work for you to-night!"
Both Pylotte and Cervera quickly turned and hastened to join the gang at the table.
For twenty minutes Kilgore's project for outwitting and securing Nick Carter was earnestly discussed, and every detail of the plan carefully laid.
Then the four men stole quietly out of the house in company.
It then was a little after midnight.