“But how did Carter get wise to our use of scopolamine?”
“That’s only a guess on his part,” Margate declared.
“He’s an infernally good guesser, then, and it puts us in bad,” growled Busby.
“Bad enough, I’ll admit; but there’s a way out.”
“Not if he brings that Philadelphia physician to the house, Dave, and——”
“Rot!” snapped Margate, interrupting. “Do you suppose for a moment, Busby, that I’m to be thwarted at this stage of the game?”
“But how can you prevent it?”
“I’ll prevent it, all right. Carter does not suspect my identity. Nor does Clayton, nor his wife, nor her father. I have fooled them all for three full months. Am I now to be balked, when all was ripe to have turned the final[Pg 26] trick, if the prying eyes of that old jade had not lit upon the truth? No, no, Busby, not on your life. I’ll play the game to a finish. I’ll get away with a million of Clayton’s fortune. Nick Carter, nor the devil himself, shall not prevent me.”
“But he will bring in that physician, Dave, as sure as fate,” Busby apprehensively insisted.
“Little good that will do him.”