Tambourine Jack caught the uplifted arm and placed the cold muzzle of a revolver against the villain’s head.
Skip allowed the club to fall to his side and pushed the little fellow away from him.
“How now? Dare you interfere when a traitor is to be punished?” cried Skip.
“Yes, I dare.”
The wig was torn off and the little fellow straightened himself up, showing himself a good-sized man, as he placed a whistle to his lips.
“Nick Carter, the detective!” cried Skip Brodie, dashing through the window, carrying away sash and all.
The detective sent a bullet after him, but whether the body that splashed into the dark waters was that of a corpse or a living man he could not tell.
CHAPTER III.
ONCE MORE ON HAND.
The bullet intended for Skip Brodie passed within half an inch of his head.