“We intend doing so,” snapped Murdock. “The mistake you made, Carter, was in undertaking to oppose us. You now find yourself neatly trapped.” “Oh, not as neatly as you imagine,” said Chick. “You have had nothing on me.” “Nothing on you, eh?” “Only what I have voluntarily handed you.” “Rats!” cried Bart Bailey, with a snarl and scowl. “Tell that to the marines. I’ve made a monkey of you, Carter, and you know it.” “It’s not in you, Bailey, to make a monkey of me,” Chick replied, with a scornful glance at him. “It’s you who were monkeyed last night, when I picked you up in Lexington Avenue and trailed you to Philadelphia, with you none the wiser.” “That’s insignificant,” said Murdock, checking Bailey with a gesture. “We know all about that. We know just how it was done.” “Certainly you do,” Chick coolly allowed. “I was aware of that several hours ago.” “Aware of what?” “That you knew a detective had trailed this rascal to Philadelphia.” “You knew it several hours ago?” demanded Murdock suspiciously. “Yes.” “I guess not.” “Punk!” snarled Bailey derisively. “That’s rot! How could he know it?” “You have another guess, Murdock,” added Chick, not averse to mocking and mystifying the rascals, in spite of the risk it involved. “I assume, too, that you are the man who sent him the information.” “How sent him?” Murdock sharply demanded, evidently rendered apprehensive by Chick’s repeated assertions. “It was sent in a code telegram.” Murdock’s heavy brows knit like frowning battlements over his threatening eyes. He drew forward in his chair, searching Chick’s face more intently. “How did you learn of that?” he cried, while Bart Bailey looked as if he had been hit with a club. “I have methods of my own, Murdock, for getting such information,” Chick replied. “For obvious reasons, however, I do not reveal them to crooks.” “But how could you interpret a code message even if you saw the telegram?” “Easily.” “Impossible, unless----” Murdock turned sharply to Bart Bailey. “Has that code book been out of your hands?” “Not on your life,” cried Bart emphatically. “This is all a bluff. He’s got you on a string. He don’t know half of what he asserts.” “Don’t I?” questioned Chick, glancing at him again. “I know that you were directed to look out for me, Bailey, and to lure me to New York, if possible, and to a place designated in your code book as the cobweb. This, of course, is the place.” Murdock uttered an oath, evidently staggered and more alarmed by what he had learned. “Bolton,” he cried harshly, turning to the man with a mallet, “search this infernal meddler. I’ll find out whether he’s an infernal mind reader, or has a copy of our code in his possession.” Bolton hastened to obey. Chick laughed indifferently, and Murdock fiercely added, with both hands clenched in front of the taunting detective. “If you knew all that, Carter, why have you walked into this trap?” “Does that surprise you?” “It appears reckless, not to say absurd.”