He now stood with his back to one of the kitchen walls, in the full glare of the lamplight.
His arms were still secured behind him, and his collar and cravat were awry from the throttling he had received.
His face was composed, however, not even pale, and his eyes were keen and bright with that inherent courage and invincible determination which rendered him superior to any threatening situation, and eminently worthy to have become Nick Carter’s trusted associate and assistant.
The gang by which he had been so curiously cornered were seated about the room.
Both Badger and Conley appeared stern and ugly, evincing that state of mind when dread and suspicion battle with uncertainty.
The two women, Mrs. Badger and Vic Clayton, appeared pale and anxious, as if fearful that their adventurous career was likely to be seriously interrupted.
Yet all four, including also a dark, middle-aged woman who worked in the house, were regarding Patsy with eyes and aspects so threatening as to have awed one less cool, collected, and defiant of personal peril.
Fifteen minutes had passed, as mentioned, and from this time matters moved decisively and swiftly, with all the energies of these masterful detectives instinctively strained for what each knew must be a final move, and all operating to produce the one desirable culmination of their joint endeavors.
In response to Badger’s command, Conley sprang up and began to search Patsy, fiercely thrusting his hand into one pocket and then another.
“Leave the linings,” suggested Patsy, with a defiant grin.