“Nick Carter.”
“Thunder! Where did you run up against him? If he——”
“You’re to bring him in, Jim,” cut in the man who had briefly vanished, and now returned to the open door. “His jags says——”
“Is he out here, Brigham?” Henley interrupted, with countenance clearing.
“Sure. Been here ten minutes.”
“That’s more like it,” cried Henley. “He can now take the ribbons. Get a move on, Carter, and—stop a bit!”
Nick halted.
“Feel again, Foster, and fish out his irons. Snap them on his own wrists, hands behind him, as he will on ours if he gets a chance.”
“You’ve told the truth once, Henley, at least,” Nick put in dryly.
“But you’ll never get the chance,” Henley retorted.[Pg 31] “Dukes down and behind you, Carter, or I’ll pull the trigger.”