Chick’s theory was quite nearly correct. As a matter of fact, a sister of Vera Vantoon, who had figured in the episode in the taxicab, had been left in the hurriedly rented furnished house, rented expressly after the abduction had been accomplished, in order that the identity of none of the culprits should afterward be discovered. This sister, Leah Vantoon, had seen Chick stealing into the house. She later had stolen out and got word to Garland, happening to meet Vera and the chauffeur, then on their way to the house. All of them had stolen in and up the stairs, unheard by the detective, while Chick was talking with Lady Waldmere. Morris Garland had, of course, then realized how craftily he had been duped by Nick Carter himself. He did not realize it all, however, for Stuart Floyd and Moses Hart were at that moment under arrest by the famous detective. Chick’s taunting remark was answered in a few seconds by Garland. At the same moment, too, Chick saw that Lady Waldmere had revived and was sitting on the edge of the bed. He held up his finger, warning her to be silent, then signed for her to seek a remote corner of the room, where a bullet from the hall could not possibly hit her. He, in the meantime, remained crouching some six feet from the open door, revolver in hand. “I say!” called Garland, from the hall. “Say ahead,” called Chick coolly. “Come on with it.” “You’d better quit and throw up your hands again,” Garland advised. “May they wither, Garland, if I do,” replied Chick. “If you cannot think of anything better to say, you’d better keep quiet.” “Oh, we’ll get you finally.” “Is that so?” “You bet it’s so. There is no way for you to get out.” “Nor for you to get in,” Chick retorted. “We can starve you out.” “Not much.” “Think not, eh?” “I know it,” Chick declared confidently. “Before you could do that, Garland, the entire police force will be in search of me. They’ll find me, too.” “Why do you think so?” “Because your running mate in the game you have been playing will throw up his hands and squeal,” Chick asserted. “He probably is under arrest by this time.” “By whom?” Garland demanded incredulously. “By Nick Carter.” “I guess not. What do you mean by the game we’ve been playing?” “Nick knows. He suspected it from the first.” “Knows what?” Chick laughed and clicked the revolver suggestively. “Don’t come any nearer that door, Garland, or there’ll be something doing,” he advised. “I wouldn’t shrink an instant from sending a bullet into your block of solid ivory. We’ve got your game down pat, now, and we’re going to get you.” “What game?” Garland again demanded. “What do you mean?” “Your looting game,” said Chick. “That’s a good name for it, too. You two rascals, evidently with others to help you, have taken advantage of the fact that the head of the business you only manage, Mr. Isaac Meyer, is a helpless paralytic and confined to his home.” “How taken advantage?”