Silk laughed and stood up.
"Not before the company have seen it," he retorted, and turning the card over he cried: "See, boys, it's the three of diamonds! The king is up his sleeve!"
His voice, the accusing flash of his eyes, his whole attitude, revealed him in his true identity to the crowd, who now recognised him through his disguise as a well-known officer of the Mounted Police. There was a cry—
"It's Silk—Sergeant Silk!"
In the wild confusion that followed his exposure of the cheat, Percy Rapson did not see exactly what happened. All that he knew was that the unmasked card-sharper and his confederates were fighting their way out of the saloon, that one or two pistol shots were fired, and that Sergeant Silk had been flung to the floor with blood upon his face.
"So that was Nick-By-Night, was it?" Silk now asked of Rapson as they rode into the valley. "How do you know?"
"I found out only this morning," Percy explained. "I was at Hilton's Jump and heard two fellows talking about him in Canadian French. They called him Nick Cutler, and Cutler was the name by which Pierre Roche referred to the card-sharper in the Golden Bar. I expect he has heaps of aliases and disguises. Anyhow, you'll know him when you see him, won't you?"
"Why, cert'nly," nodded Silk, "thanks to you. You see, I never forget a face."
"Say, Sergeant," interposed Constable Medlicott, "that outfit in front of us has pulled up. I guess they're intending to make camp for the night."
"Do you suppose they've spotted us?" questioned Percy Rapson.