“Sure, sir, as far as that goes,” Cady quickly agreed. “Do you know just where and how it is to be attempted?” “Not how, Cady, but somewhere between here and Shelby.” “We have not long to wait, then,” Cady declared. “We make the run from North Dayton in twenty-six minutes.” “Where are we now?” “We have covered about eight miles. We are in Willow Creek section, a mighty lonely locality, and the next place near which we pass is Benton Corners.” “Benton Corners!” Nick echoed. “That’s where I rounded up Jim Reardon, and where Jake Hanlon, Link Magee, and Dick Bryan live. I suspected them of having been Reardon’s confederates, but we could not convict them. It may be, by Jove, that they are engaged in this job.” “Quite likely. They certainly are bad eggs.” “You know them, then?” “By name and sight,” Cady nodded. “But we’ll be ready for them. You are armed, sir, of course, and I have a revolver in the safe. I’ll get it and——” “No, no, don’t unlock the safe,” Nick quickly objected. “The job may be attempted at any moment. I have two revolvers. Take one of them and be ready to hold up the rascals.” “I’ll be ready,” Cady declared, taking the weapon. “Throw up your hands, Carter, and be darned quick about it, or you’ll get a slug of lead from your own weapon.” Nick Carter was never more surprised in his life. Cady had turned the revolver squarely upon the detective, and there was a gleam in his eyes, a vicious ring in his voice, denoting that he meant what he said. No sane man would have ignored them, and Nick threw up his hands. They stood confronting one another in the swaying car, these two men, Cady with a murderous look on his bearded face, the detective with an expression of sudden terrible sternness, mingled with surprise. “What’s this, Cady?” he demanded. “I was told that you were true blue and a man of courage.” “You don’t want to believe all you’re told,” Cady snarled back at him. “Don’t drop your hands, Carter, or I’ll drop you.” “Are you in with this gang?” Nick sternly questioned. “You bet I’m in with it. I’m out to get this coin—and to get you, now, since you know so much about——” The car lurched suddenly on a curve. The revolver covering the detective’s breast deviated for a moment, as Cady swayed under the sudden lurch. It was the moment for which Nick Carter was watching. He was as quick as a flash in seeing and seizing the opportunity. His left hand shot downward and grasped the miscreant’s wrist, turning the revolver aside, while his right shot out and closed with a viselike grip around Cady’s neck. “In with this gang, are you?” he shouted. “You shall pay the price, then.” But again the unexpected occurred. Another lurch of the car threw both men, then engaged in the terrible struggle, against the wall of the car. Cady’s beard was torn off and the truth revealed—the man was not Cady. It was not a substitute package to which the telegram had referred, but—a substitute man!