“You heard what I said.”
There was a moment or two of silence.
Deland appeared briefly staggered by the altered attitude of the lawyer.
He was not alone, moreover, in hearing that last semi-defiant remark.
Nick Carter was reviving. Inured to hard knocks, his head had sustained much better than either of his companions suspected the blow it had received.
Nick heard the remark, however, much as one hears in a dream, or the voice of one at a distance. It began to bring him to himself, nevertheless, and with slowly returning consciousness a realization of his position and of what had occurred.
With these came, too, a more keen appreciation of the entire situation, and the cobwebs then cleared from his brain more rapidly. A definite thought had leaped up in his mind, quickly followed by another and another.
“By Jove, I was knocked out. Madison has another visitor. One of his confederates, one of the gang of crooks, showed up here. It is to him he is talking.”
Nick had not stirred—did not stir.
“I’ll wait for more,” was the thought that followed. “I will hear what is said. It may be Deland himself. I can rely upon Chick and Patsy.”