Chick dropped to the edge of the trapdoor and thrust the smoking weapon through it.
“Hands up!” he yelled fiercely. “Up with them! He’ll be a dead man who stirs!”
Patsy had darted toward the dimly lighted stairway and already was nearly down.
“Dead man is right!” he shouted, weapon leveled. “Move foot or finger, man or woman, and I’ll shoot to kill!”
Without exception, the several crooks had knuckled to the sudden startling situation. As a matter of fact, they supposed the building was surrounded and that a posse of police were breaking in on them. Once their hands were up, however, it was all over but the shouting, as Patsy afterward said.
Within five minutes the crooks were secured, Floyd among them, he having suffered only a flesh wound.
Half an hour later all were in the Tombs, including Minerva Grand, the first step toward the punishment they deserved.
Midnight saw the priceless plate, or that most cherished by Waldmere, taken safely into his residence—and thus, crowning with complete success the splendid work of Nick Carter and his assistants, the sensational case ended.
The fire under the melting pot had become dead ashes.
THE END.