They entered, and Hatfield looked up in surprise.
“I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, gentlemen,” he said, coldly.
“I am Nick Carter,” replied the detective, “and this is my assistant.”
“Indeed! To what am I indebted—”
“Mr. George Hatfield, alias Red Rob, the king of wharf-rats, you have in your possession a steel casket which we want. If you move a finger, I will shoot you!” said Nick, sternly.
“There is some mistake!” exclaimed Hatfield, faintly.
“There is no mistake. Own up like a man, and be brave for once. We know what we know, Bobby.”
“Well, I will own up,” exclaimed the river- thief, boldly, “and what is more you shall have the casket. Take me. You will find the casket in my trunk.”
He held out his hands which were quickly and securely manacled.
Then his keys were produced, the trunk opened, and the casket placed on a table before them.