Grantley was the ringleader, the most dangerous of the lot at any time, and the fact that he was an escaped convict would render his resistance more than ordinarily desperate. The periscope had told Nick where the fugitive stood, and thus the detective was enabled to cover him at once with the unwavering muzzle of the automatic. “Hands up, Grantley! Hands up, everybody!” cried Nick, stepping a little to one side to allow Chick to enter. His assistant took immediate advantage of the opening and stepped to his chief’s side, with leveled weapon. Chick’s automatic was pointed at Doctor Chester, however. After Grantley, the man whose house had been invaded, was naturally the one who was likely to put up the hardest fight. The guilty four were spellbound with astonishment and fear for a moment, then the three younger ones jumped to their feet like so many jacks-in-the-box. Grantley had already been standing when the detectives broke in. “Did you hear me, gentlemen?” Nick demanded, crooking his finger a little more closely about the trigger. “I said ‘Hands up!’ and it won’t be healthy for any of you to ignore the invitation. One--two--three!” Before the last word passed his lips, however, four pairs of hands were in the air. Doctor Willard’s had gone up first, and Grantley’s last. “Thank you so much!” the detective remarked, with mock politeness. Now, if you will oblige me a little further, by lining up against that right wall, I shall be still more grateful to you. Kindly place yourselves about two feet apart, not less. I want you, Number Sixty Thousand One Thirteen”--Grantley winced at his prison number--“at this end of the line, next to me, with Chester, alias Schofield, next; Graves next to him, and Willard last. You see, I haven’t forgotten any of my old friends.” This disposition of the trapped quartet was designed to serve two purposes. In the first place, it would remove them from proximity to Helga Lund, who, crouched in the middle of the floor, was watching the detectives with bewildered, uncomprehending eyes. In the second place, it would enable Chick to handcuff them one by one, while Nick stood ready to fire, at an instant’s notice, on any one who made a false move. It looked, for the time being, as if the capture would be altogether too easy to have any spice in it, but the detectives did not make the mistake of underrating their adversaries--Grantley, especially. To be sure, they were probably unarmed, and had been taken at such a disadvantage that they would hardly have had an opportunity to draw weapons, even if they had worn them. Still, any one of a number of things might happen. The four doctors had been caught “with the goods,” as the police saying is, and they might be expected to take desperate chances as soon as they had had time to collect their scattered wits and to realize the seriousness of their plight. Nick Carter had shown his usual generalship in the orders he had given so crisply.