“Quite likely. They certainly are bad eggs.”
“You know them, then?”
“By name and sight,” Cady nodded. “But we’ll be ready for them. You are armed, sir, of course, and I have a revolver in the safe. I’ll get it and——”
“No, no, don’t unlock the safe,” Nick quickly objected. “The job may be attempted at any moment. I have two revolvers. Take one of them and be ready to hold up the rascals.”
“I’ll be ready,” Cady declared, taking the weapon. “Throw up your hands, Carter, and be darned quick about it, or you’ll get a slug of lead from your own weapon.”
Nick Carter was never more surprised in his life.
Cady had turned the revolver squarely upon the detective, and there was a gleam in his eyes, a vicious ring in his voice, denoting that he meant what he said.
No sane man would have ignored them, and Nick threw up his hands. They stood confronting one another in the swaying car, these two men, Cady with a murderous look on his bearded face, the detective with an expression of sudden terrible sternness, mingled with surprise.
“What’s this, Cady?” he demanded. “I was told that you were true blue and a man of courage.”
“You don’t want to believe all you’re told,” Cady snarled back at him. “Don’t drop your hands, Carter, or I’ll drop you.”