A single sharp whistle sounded from the kitchen.
Instantly Nick felt a rope noose jerked taut around his ankles, nearly throwing him from his feet.
From beneath the table, the hanging cover of which had effectually concealed him, Jean Pylotte had managed to adjust the noose upon the floor about Nick's legs. At the signal given him, he had quickly drawn it taut.
At the same moment Kilgore and Matt Stall leaped upon Nick from the kitchen and hall doors, bearing him heavily to the floor, while Venner ran to clap a revolver to the detective's head.
"Hang to his feet, Pylotte," cried Kilgore, fiercely.
"I've got 'em fast," shouted the diamond maker, from under the table.
"Quit, Carter, or I'll blow your brains out," commanded Venner, with his pistol at Nick's head.
Nick had been making a great bluff at putting up an ugly fight, but now he very agreeably subsided.
The affair was going precisely as he desired, yet for the sake of appearances he angrily snarled:
"Let up, you dogs! So this is your game, is it? Turn that gun another way, Venner, you miscreant! It might go off, and I'm not fool enough to invite its contents. This dirty game that you've played—"