Three huge mastiffs were held in leash by a bull-faced keeper. In the gateway stood three men.
Two of these the detectives recognized at once as Burke and Collins of the trio. This was a revelation.
It proved that Dr. Scraggs’ asylum was really a rendezvous for the thugs.
The third man was tall and lean with rounded shoulders and a hatchet face.
He was the asylum proprietor. No other than Doctor Scraggs himself.
The three miscreants and the rascally gatekeeper keenly scrutinized the two detectives.
It was a critical moment.
Collins held the lantern close up to their faces and studied them hard. Then he grinned.
“It’s all right,” he said. “They’re a couple of Rubes all right. Come in an’ we’ll keep ye till morning.”
“Isaac,” said Scraggs to the gatekeeper, “put the dogs back in the kennel. Show these two men to a room in the south wing. Give ’em a swig of whiskey.”