Of the six ruffians comprising the gang, five of them were flocking into the small stable, three bearing the bound form of the detective.
Only Bryan remained outside, and he fell to turning the car, in which Janet Payson still was seated.
Not one among them had any apprehension of immediate danger.
Other figures were approaching, however, those of half a score of men, Patsy Garvan among them. They were stealing as noiselessly as shadows from the woods and shrubbery back of the stable, which they rapidly approached, with ranks dividing to pass around both sides of it.
Every man was armed with a rifle or a shotgun, save Patsy Garvan, and he carried a revolver in each hand.
As now may be inferred, Chick Carter’s ruse had been to place himself in the hands of Janet Payson and the man known to be her confederate, knowing that they would take him to the headquarters of the gang, and in the meantime to have Patsy so stationed with assistants north of Benton Corners that the subsequent course of the rascals could be stealthily followed.
As a matter of fact, however, Patsy had seen the car containing Murdock, Bryan, and Magee, two of whom he recognized, when it went through Benton Corners on its way to Shelby. The plans already laid with Chick told him what would follow, beyond any reasonable doubt, and he at once set about tracing the tracks of the touring car in the direction from which it had come.
This, of course, brought him and his companions to the Mauler place, less than ten minutes before Chick was brought there, and all hands were concealed scarce thirty feet back of the stable at that time.
The noise within had not abated when they came around both front corners of the stable, half a score of constables and officers from Shelby, but the voice of Patsy Garvan then rang like a trumpet over other sounds.
“Now, boys, get them!” he shouted, leading the way. “Some of you look after that fellow in the car. We’ve got those in the stable cornered like rats.”