“I thought you were dead—in fact, three years ago I read about your death at sea.”
“So did thousands,” laughed the so-called Belmont, who was Jack Redmond, the crook. “I thought at one time I was on the brink of eternity. We had nine tough weeks on a tropical island, but were saved by a liner.”
This seemed to satisfy Lamont, for he fell to talking to Redmond, and the two adjourned to the wine-room and opened several bottles.
It was midnight before they parted, and then Redmond slunk away.
He had broken the ice.
“To-morrow,” said he, “I will go a little further, and before the week’s out I’ll have my clutches on this man for Carter. He doesn’t suspect, and I’ve completely hoodwinked him.”
Jack went back to his little den, but did not lock the door.
Ten minutes later he heard footsteps on the stair, and, thinking that Carter was coming back, he watched the door with some curiosity.
When the door opened he got pale, for instead of the detective another man stood before him.
“Spy and informer, your time has come!” cried this person, who seemed as wiry as a tiger as he crossed the room.