Badger quickly shook his head. “Not the ghost of a chance, Carter,” he said roundly. “I know you from ’way back. I’d take your word against the national house of congress. It’s up to you, Carter, to----” “Enough said, Badger,” Nick interrupted. “I never in my life compromised with a crook for my own safety, and I shall not begin with you.” “But----” “There aren’t any buts, Badger,” Nick thundered--not without a reason. His quick ear, close to the wall against which he was leaning, had caught a faint sound, unheard by any of the others--the slight creak of a hinge on the passageway door at the foot of the stairs. It told him on the instant that help was at hand. Bent upon covering the approach of whomever it might be, though he suspected the truth, Nick went on with augmented vehemence, his sonorous voice fairly drowning all other sounds: “No, no, Badger, I never would consent to that. I am a servant of the law, a protector of society. My duty to both, my own integrity, the dictates of my conscience, every spark of manhood in my nature, all would forbid----” “Oh, hang your conscience!” roared Badger, interrupting. “You’ll get all that’s coming to you, then! You’ll get----” He broke off as if suddenly tongue-tied. He saw the heads and helmets of a crowd of men rushing up the stairs, men with revolvers in their hands and stern determination in their eyes, a great posse of police led by Chick Carter and Patsy Garvan. Before he could find his voice, that of Chick Carter rang through the dismal loft: “Hands up! We’ve got you, boys! Don’t show fight if you want to live! There’ll be nothing to it!” “Nothing but the shouting!” yelled Patsy, as the detectives and the police bounded up and into the loft. Their increasing numbers and display of weapons awed every crook save one--Gaston Goulard. He vented a snarl like that of a cornered wolf. Turning like a flash, he darted to the window at which he had repeatedly glanced. He did not stop upon reaching it. He dived straight through it, carrying away panes and sashes, and vanished on the instant in the gathering dusk outside. Patsy bounded to the window and looked out. He saw the splash of falling spray where the man had gone down in the black, swirling waters of the river. He waited and watched--but watched vainly. No head rose to the surface--no form to tell that Gaston Goulard had not paid the price for his crimes. The arrest and incarceration of the other crooks were easily and quickly accomplished. Sadie Badger already had been arrested, and was on her way with Slugger Sloan to the precinct station. All were in custody before six o’clock that evening. In a room back of some lime barrels in a corner of the loft, was found not only Juan Padillo, gagged and bound hand and foot, but also the suit case and its contents--both held there by the Badger gang until they learned what course the police investigations were likely to take.