Patsy heard the ringing of the doorbell--three times. The corpulent woman, Hogan’s wife, hastened out to open the front door. Patsy clung to his board, watching constantly, listening intently, but he began to feel the strain of his awkward and perilous position. He scarce dared to stir, lest the board should slip from one end, or the other, and his distress was each moment becoming more painful. “I’ll hang on, by thunder, till I learn the whole business,” he muttered, gritting his teeth. “I’ll land this bunch, too, or know the reason why.” Less than a minute had passed when Mrs. Hogan returned to the kitchen. She was closely followed by Baldy Gammon, and Patsy Garvan saw the English crook for the first time. He knew nothing about him, of course, nor about the first interview Nick had had with Sir Edward Chadwick, and much that he had heard was almost Greek to the determined young detective. Hence, his resolution to get all that could be obtained. Stuart Floyd sprang up with an inquiring stare when Gammon entered, but the latter said quickly, with a sharp glance at the several other occupants of the room: “Gimme a word with you alone, Floyd. It’s as ’ow I ’ave somethink to tell you.” “What about?” “You know. Come into the front room,” Gammon insisted. Stuart Floyd followed him without replying. Hogan frowned darkly, and Lucy Devoll stole to the kitchen door to listen. Patsy rightly reasoned that Floyd and Gammon were the two responsible for the active work of abducting Waldmere, and that the others were merely in their employ. He wondered, too, of course, to what Englishman they had referred. “Gee! I wish they had done their talking there,” he said to himself during the lull in the kitchen. “This may leave me dead lame as to the exact truth--as lame as I’ll be after lying so long on this board. It’s like being on a rack.” Patsy had not long to wait, however, before Gammon returned to the kitchen. Scarce ten minutes had passed, and the English crook then was followed by a man with silvery-gray hair and a flowing beard. Patsy instantly recognized him, nevertheless. “Great guns!” he exclaimed mentally. “What’s on, now? Floyd is going out in disguise. Gee! had I better try to follow him?” Floyd already had on his street garments, and brief consideration convinced Patsy that he could not possibly get down from his perilous perch in time to overtake him. For Floyd lingered only to say a few words quietly to Hogan, and he then turned sharp on his heel and departed. Gammon remained, however, and took the chair the other had vacated. Floyd had gone, of course, to keep the appointment as Mr. Pimlico. Lucy Devoll, frowning, began to question Gammon about it, and so sharp and insistent were her inquiries that he finally proceeded to tell them of the exact situation. Patsy listened exultantly--but it was of brief duration.