They tried the side door, to find it locked. It was through this door that they had seen the bold detective disappear, and it was in the same direction that the four men proposed to go in search of their daring friend. The room was in darkness, but Paul soon had the rays of a dark lantern flashing about the place. "Let us move with caution," said Harry, taking the lead, and entering the hall through the doorway which Ruggles, in his hasty flight, had left open. Soon voices greeted them from the basement, and a light glimmered through a half-open door at the head of the stairs. "If we could only put him under down here," said a voice, which the reader will recognize as that of Nick Brower, the villainous accomplice of Professor Ruggles from the opening of our story. "Wal, I reckin we kin," said the villainous companion of Brower. As he spoke, he went to the side of the fallen man-hunter, and placed the point of a knife against his throat. "What now, pard? "Dead men tell no tales, Nick." "True. Send it home---" SPANG! The sharp report of a revolver wake the echoes once more. The knife dropped from the nerveless grasp of the would-be assassin, and with a howl of pain he began dancing an Irish jig on the stone floor of the cellar. Nick Brower whirled instantly, snatched a revolver from his hip, to find that four glittering bulldogs confronted him from the stairs. "Drop that weapon, or we will drop you!" thundered Harry Bernard in a stern voice. "Trapped!" cried Brower, in a despairing voice. Then the four men moved down into the cellar and secured Brower and his companion. "We have made a good haul," said one of the police officers who accompanied Bernard and Paul, who recognized in Brower an old offender. Harry Bernard bent quickly and anxiously over the prostrate detective. "My soul!" uttered the young man, "the villains have killed poor Darrel, I do believe." But the young man's belief was unfounded, since some time later Dyke Darrel came to his senses. He was in a bad condition, however, and those who saw him predicted that the detective had followed his last trail. A search of the building brought to light Madge Scarlet, who was fuming angrily over her imprisonment. "How did this happen?" demanded Bernard, sternly, when he came to question the hag. She was sullen, however, and refused to answer. "I imagine there is a way to bring your tongue into working order," said Bernard, in a stern voice. "I keep a respectable house, sir; you can't harm me." "We'll see about that." "Did you find any one?" questioned the jezabel in an apparently careless tone. "We have two of your friends in limbo," returned Harry. "You will find it no holiday affair to keep a house for the purpose of murder and robbery. Never mind, you need say nothing, for it will not better matters in the least. Come;" and Harry Bernard led the old woman from the cellar.