Patsy thrust his hand into the breast of the robber’s coat and pulled out a knife in a leather sheath.

After transferring the blade to his own pocket, he brought out the darbies and attached them to his prisoner’s wrists.

“Now, get up,” he said, hanging on to the bracelets.

Cricket arose.

“Who are you?” he inquired.

“One of Nick Carter’s men,” grinned Patsy. “I should think you’d know the brand by this time.”

“The best thing we’ve done this trip is to fix Carter,” gloated Cricket.

“You starred yourself at that, didn’t you?” returned the detective dryly.

“You bet we did! Who was that duffer that ran your auto?”

“Chickering Carter, the Little Giant’s right-hand man.”