She stood behind the door where she could conveniently see all that took place without herself being seen.
The old apple woman was Nick Carter.
He had Elmer Greer now with no chance of escape.
Villain as the fellow was, there was one thing about him that won even the detective’s admiration, and that was his courage.
Surrounded by dangers, as Elmer Greer knew himself to be, he had the hardihood to remain in the metropolis, when ninety-nine men out of a hundred, if placed in a similar position, would seek safety in flight.
He was no common criminal, but a cool and unscrupulous villain, and he cared not for the quicksands that environed him.
Nick Carter, when he thought of poor, wounded Mignon Field, felt like shooting the rascal down, and he certainly would have done so had he not promised the girl not to injure Elmer until her father had been found.
Two of the party had dark lanterns, and the rays of both were directed against the safe knob, while Greer worked at the combination.
“I am sure,” he said, “that the lock is set on the numbers 10-50-75. I saw Smith open it the other day, and, of course, he did not know I got onto it.”
“Perhaps he changes it daily,” remarked Shea. “I’ve heard of chaps doing that, and I should say that it must be a good idea, where there are many fellows coming into an office.”