“Holy smoke!” exclaimed the foremost, with a glance at the motionless form of the detective. “Is the world coming to an end? How did you get the big dick, Mortie?”
“Plugger Flynn, as bad an egg as was ever laid,” thought Nick.
“I had to get him, Plugger, and get him good,” said Deland, more coolly. “He had Madison on the run.”
“He did, eh?” Flynn glared at the lawyer. “Not going to squeal, was he?”
“That’s what.”
“Hang him, then. I’ll close his trap so he can’t squeal, as sure as——”
“You keep your gun in your pocket, Daggett,” snapped Deland, when he saw the other reaching for a revolver. “There’ll be time enough for that, if it comes to that kind of a play. But we’ve got him so he’ll not squeal, and where he’ll be glad to settle. You’ve arrived just in time.”
“We hiked out here on the run after seeing Cora,” nodded Flynn.
“She told you——”
“The whole business, Mortie,” put in a slender, crafty-looking rascal known as Buck Tobey, chiefly because of his passion for bucking a faro game. “But how did the dick get wise to so much?”