All the while Patsy kept up a quiet stream of talk, describing the supposed burglary for which he was wanted, and in a way to further impress Bannon, but never an inquisitive word to awaken a feeling of distrust. Nevertheless, the unexpected happened, in so far as Patsy was concerned. Ten minutes brought them to the street in which Chick lost sight of his quarry. “Keep your trap closed, now,” cautioned Bannon, as they were nearing the alley previously mentioned. “I’ve got to give a signal in half a minute.” “I’m dumb,” nodded Patsy, detecting no sign of treachery in the other’s eyes. Bannon halted upon arriving at the entrance to the alley. He glanced up and down the street, noting that it was deserted, and then he said softly: “Wait here and watch out in that direction. We’ll sneak through the alley in half a minute and----” Patsy heard no more. Involuntarily, as it were, he had turned his head to look in the direction indicated by his companion. Bannon’s hand then leaped from his side pocket. It was gripping the barrel of a revolver. It rose and fell like a flash, the butt of the weapon landing with a sickening thud squarely on Patsy’s head. He went down and out and into dreamland as quickly and completely as if felled with an ax. CHAPTER VII. INTO A TRAP. To one not versed in the detective’s art, the announcement of Nick Carter that he was going on a still-hunt after Stuart Floyd would have sounded like a vain and vaunting assertion. To hunt up one man among the million in New York, a man presumably aware of the fact that he was wanted by the police, and therefore having a potent incentive to keeping out of sight--to attempt to hunt up such a man would seem to a novice a vain and hopeless undertaking. None knew better than Nick Carter, however, the underworld and the ways of its crooks. Nick did not seek Floyd in any of the haunts to which such criminals sometimes resort. He knew there would be nothing in that. He reasoned, however, that Floyd would leave no stone unturned to find out what investigations were being made and what was known and suspected about the robbery, and Nick was much too keen to overlook the probability that the desired information might be covertly sought in the railway yard, when Frank Gilbert and McLauren returned to the freight car to remove the remaining cases. This required two trips by the couple, it being impossible to take them away in a single load, and it was during their second visit to the car that Nick put in an appearance--or, rather, did not put in an appearance. For, without displaying any interest in the labors of the two men, or in the contents of the car, Nick picked his way between several trains that were sidetracked in that part of the yard, apparently seeking some other car in which he had an interest. He was carefully disguised and felt sure that he was safe from ordinary recognition.