Flying up the stairs, three at a time, the elegant-appearing crook ran into the first room he came to, which looked over the back yard.
Skipping to the window, he unlatched the sash and threw it wide open. He intended to drop out to the back yard. But just as he was ready to do so, he saw two officers waiting to receive him, and he ran back into the room.
“Euchred that way!” he muttered. “But I don’t know. There are others. They haven’t landed me yet.”
By this time Nick was at the doorway. He was just in time to see Potter’s head and shoulders in outline against the dim light of the window, and made a spring to make him prisoner.
There was a derisive chuckle, and Potter slithered around the dark walls of the room. The next moment, as Nick advanced to the center of the chamber, Potter had slipped out of the door.
“Confound the fellow! I almost had him!” exclaimed Nick, in a low tone, and half inclined to laugh at the slipperiness of the fellow. “He’s gone! Well, I’ll have to begin all over again. If he knew what I wanted him for, perhaps it would be different. But I can’t tell him till I’ve had a chance to talk to him and make a few notes for comparison.”
CHAPTER XIII.
NICK CARTER’S QUIET HAND.
What Nick meant by the last words he had uttered, no doubt he could have told. As no one heard them, and he was talking to himself, anyhow, presumably it was nobody else’s business what he meant.
That there was something behind the detective’s willingness to take part in such a raid as this, both Chick and Patsy were sure, but neither knew just what it was. There were some things that the chief did not tell even to his most trusted employees.