“There’s another contingency, also. Even if the physician fails to detect traces of scopolamine, Carter then may begin to watch the woman, or the nurse, or——”
“No, he’ll not, Busby.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because, blast him, he’ll have no woman to watch,” Margate cried, with more vicious vehemence.
“No woman to watch!” Busby stared at him. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean what I say,” Margate came back at him. “I’ll tell you how it can be done. That’s why I am here to-night. I’ll beat Carter at his own game. Never again shall he foil my designs. The stake is too big for me to cry quits at this stage of the game. I’ll fool him, Busby. I’ll knock his present game on the head. I’ll tell you how it can be done.”
“Go ahead, you rascal, and tell me, also,” thought Patsy, ears alert. “I then will land you rats where you belong. Go ahead and——”
But Patsy’s train of thought ended as abruptly as it had begun.
It was cut short by a voice from behind him, that of a man who, with a companion, had quietly entered from the street a few moments before, so quietly that Patsy had not heard them. They had caught sight of his sturdy figure in black relief against the glow on the curtained window.
“Come down here, stranger, and come down with your hands up!” he cried sharply. “If you reach for a gun, or show fight, we’ll croak you on the instant. Come down here, I say, and be quick about it.”