“Oh, get wise, get wise, kid,” he said significantly. “Matt Gaffney sent me in, or Andy Margate, if that hits you any better. Can’t you read it?” “Why didn’t he come in with you?” “He hadn’t time,” Chick glibly explained. “He was spieling to two blokes in a taxi. He sent them away and was in a big rush himself. He said you’d know what to do when you saw his note. What am I up against, anyway?” Chick began to scowl--and the woman then began to laugh. She had taken just enough liquor to feel silly, and want more. “He wants me to bring you out, eh?” she asked. “That’s what he said. You can read it, can’t you?” “Sure I can read it,” grinned Nell. “But I’m not going out there till I’ve had my feed. You can bet your boots on that.” “I’m a bit hungry myself,” Chick vouchsafed. “Sit down and order something. Say, what’s your moniker?” “Sandy Billings. I’ve known Andy from ’way back. Will you wrap yourself around another drink?” “Sure! Make it dry.” With the way thus cleverly paved, Chick afterward found it easy walking. Nell Breen made good in so far as Chick desired. She left the car at the proper point and conducted him about a quarter mile to the building then the scene of episodes already described. Patsy Garvan followed them with no great need for caution, owing to the woman’s intoxication. They entered a yard leading to an end door of the somewhat ancient stone building. The limousine was one of the first things to catch Chick’s eye, and it told him all he then wanted to know. He glanced back and saw Patsy stealing after him. “Must we ring, or knock?” he asked, as he approached the door with the reeling woman. “Neizer,” she muttered, with maudlin thickness. “I’ve gotta key.” “Let’s have it,” Chick said quietly. “You couldn’t find the keyhole.” “I’ll be dead lucky if I find the key,” said Nell, feeling for a pocket in her skirt. She presently found it and produced the key, nevertheless, placing it in the detective’s hand. Chick tried to insert it noiselessly into the lock, and stopped--for the hundredth part of a second. There came from within, sending a thrill through him from head to foot--the sudden, sharp, spiteful crack of a revolver. Patsy also heard it, and three quick leaps brought him to Chick’s side. Both swept the woman aside, throwing her to the ground, and Chick unlocked the door and threw it open. Their gaze fell upon a lighted corridor, a low flight of stairs leading down to it, and upon Margate, Lombard, and Baldwin, now shooting wildly at a man crouching near what appeared to be a narrow door. “There’s Nick!” Chick yelled. “At them, Patsy!” Both dashed into the corridor, revolvers in hand. Batty Lombard fell at that moment, pierced with a bullet from Nick’s revolver. Baldwin turned to flee--only to find himself caught between two fires. He dropped his revolver to the floor and threw up his hands.