Jim Henley and the two frowning crooks near by evinced no surprise nor made any comments. That Deland was the master, and they merely hirelings, was perfectly apparent to the detective.
It appeared obvious, too, that Chick Carter must have arrived too late to have picked up the supposed Dayton before he left his office—a mischance that would seem to have badly aggravated the present desperate situation of the detective.
Deland appeared to think so, too, for he smiled with vicious complacency while he tossed his disguise upon the table, saying with the same frigid voice and insolent assurance which was so characteristic of him that they had at once betrayed him to the detective:
“Now, having met you halfway, Carter, and complied with the stipulation you imposed, it is up to you to perform your part of the brief verbal contract. Sit down, if you prefer; there are plenty of chairs. I regret that I cannot release you, but that would be injudicious for obvious reasons. Tell me, now, as you promised, what are you after and what have you been doing, that my good friend Henley has rounded you up in this fashion?”
CHAPTER IX.
THE ACME OF KNAVERY.
Nick Carter ignored Mortimer Deland’s mocking suavity, the miscreant’s manifest air of superiority and contempt. He sat down directly opposite the notorious crook, replying sternly:
“That may be quickly told, Deland, and I’m right here to tell it.[Pg 33]”
“I am listening.”
“You wish to know what I am after. I am after a rascal who has been playing a very extraordinary game, so extraordinary that he might have won out and accomplished his evil designs—if I had not butted into the game to thwart it.”
“Ah!” drawled Deland. “That makes it very unfortunate for him—but doubly unfortunate for you, perhaps.”