Lombard turned as white as his shirt front.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he faltered. “What—what tube?”
“That in which I found this bundle a few minutes ago,” said Nick, taking it from behind his chair and tearing it open. “Here are the stolen lace curtains. I refer to the tube, Mr. Lombard, in which you placed them.”
Lombard started to rise, but his knees gave way under him and he nearly fainted in his chair, while Mantell and his father stared in speechless amazement.
Nick leaned forward, and, before Lombard fairly knew it, snapped a pair of handcuffs on the culprit’s wrists.
“Now,” said he, more sternly, “tell me where that tube leads, Mr. Lombard, and be quick about it. The jig is up for you and your confederates.”
Lombard pulled himself together and glared at Nick with a scowl.
“You’ll learn nothing from me,” he growled bitterly. “Find out for yourself, if you want to know.”
“That’s precisely what I will do,” declared Nick, starting up. “Look after this man, Mantell, till I return. I have a hunch that I shall not return alone.”
Nick did not wait for a reply, but seized his hat and hurried from the office. He had noted the probable direction of the underground tube, and he hastened through the corridor and down the same back stairway over which Patsy had pursued Gaston Goulard.