Patsy now saw plainly enough what had occasioned this sudden aggressiveness. He saw, too, that the moment was fast approaching when subterfuge would be utterly futile, when even his identity might be discovered, and he at once took the only course left open for him--that of prolonging the conversation and staving off any desperate move of these rascals, until his combination telephone-and-telegraph appeal could be answered. For though the telephone receiver was muffled by its position on the books, Patsy had faintly heard Nick’s repeated hello and recognized his voice, and he felt reasonably sure, from his succeeding silence, that the tapped message had been received and rightly interpreted. Magill’s face, like that of every man of the gang, had taken on a frown as black as midnight. He shook the bank note in Patsy’s face, retorting fiercely: “Lucky to get it back, am I? Well, you’ll be mighty lucky to get out of here with your life, if we find that you have tricked us.” “Oh, I have not tricked you,” Patsy calmly asserted. “You’re getting all haired up over nothing. I’ll explain to your entire satisfaction, Magill, if you give me time.” It was for time, indeed, that Patsy then was playing. “Out with it, then,” snarled Gridley, again taking the ribbons. “What do you mean? How came you with this money?” “Magill gave it to me.” “But you said you hired the touring car with it.” “No, I didn’t,” said Patsy. “He only thought I did. The truth is, Mr. Gridley, I hated to let go of twenty bucks that had come so easy. So I hung on to the long green, instead, and stole the touring car from in front of a house.” “I ordered you not to steal one,” cried Magill. “I know it,” said Patsy, with a grin. “But I ain’t much on obeying orders. I reckoned a stolen car would serve as well for the job we had framed up, and since I was going into a thieving game, I thought I might as well swipe a car and be hung for a sheep as a lamb.” “He’s lying!” Gridley said sternly. “See what else he has in his pockets. Search him from head to foot and--what’s that?” Magill had quickly obeyed, thrusting his fingers into Patsy’s vest pockets. From one of them he drew out a crumpled scrap of paper, thoughtlessly put there by Patsy after having read it. “It’s a leaf from a notebook,” he cried. “Here’s writing on it.” “Writing on it?” “Thundering guns! Whom are we up against?” Magill added, with a growl. “Listen, Gridley, listen!” Magill straightened up with lips viciously twitching and read it aloud--the communication from Nick Carter to Patsy: “‘Kate Crandall knows, but will not speak. Shadow her constantly until otherwise directed. Be governed by circumstances. I’m off for home. Phone me there of any discoveries.’” “Gee whiz, it’s all off now, for fair,” thought Patsy. “I’m booked for all I’ve invited, unless the chief shows up.” There certainly were indications of it. Gridley snatched the paper from Magill and read it himself, then uttered a terrible oath.