The beating that Nick Carter had given him was too much for him, trained athlete that he was.
“Where is Meloy?” one of the men asked.
“I don’t know,” replied the chauffeur.
“I supposed that Meloy was a match for any detective on the force,” said one of the fellows when Meloy’s insensible body was found.
“He is a match for any ordinary man,” replied the other, “but you can’t expect him to whip a man like Nick Carter.”
“You don’t mean to say that Nick Carter is on the case that has so long baffled the police, do you?”
“Yes, the case has been turned over to him, and I tell you, boys, that we have got to be very careful, or we will find that we are up against a losing game,” said one of the older men.
“I think that the best thing that we can do,” spoke up the leader of the gang, “is to wait for this detective and blow out his brains. I tell you that he is a dangerous man, and the sooner we are rid of him the safer it will be for us.”
“You are right,” came a voice from out the darkness.
“Benny the Bum by all the imps in the place below,” said the leader.