Three men now emerged from it, following close on the heels of one another. Though all were well dressed, all were of dark and sinister aspect, with faces that wore the unmistakable stamp of the crook. Nick seized this opportunity for a momentary glance at them, and he instantly recognized all three as East Side gangsters, as Patsy Garvan had identified them by the names he had heard mentioned by Deland. “Holy smoke!” exclaimed the foremost, with a glance at the motionless form of the detective. “Is the world coming to an end? How did you get the big dick, Mortie?” “Plugger Flynn, as bad an egg as was ever laid,” thought Nick. “I had to get him, Plugger, and get him good,” said Deland, more coolly. “He had Madison on the run.” “He did, eh?” Flynn glared at the lawyer. “Not going to squeal, was he?” “That’s what.” “Hang him, then. I’ll close his trap so he can’t squeal, as sure as----” “You keep your gun in your pocket, Daggett,” snapped Deland, when he saw the other reaching for a revolver. “There’ll be time enough for that, if it comes to that kind of a play. But we’ve got him so he’ll not squeal, and where he’ll be glad to settle. You’ve arrived just in time.” “We hiked out here on the run after seeing Cora,” nodded Flynn. “She told you----” “The whole business, Mortie,” put in a slender, crafty-looking rascal known as Buck Tobey, chiefly because of his passion for bucking a faro game. “But how did the dick get wise to so much?” “Don’t ask me,” said Deland. “How in thunder do I know?” “Does he know about the red liquor? Does he know it came from the skirt, and that I was the one that sprinkled it on the banker? If he does, by thunder, and that you three ginks croaked----” “Shut up!” snapped Deland. “It now makes no difference what he knows. We’ll fix him so he can make no use of it.” “That’s got to be done,” Plugger Flynn declared, with a growl. “And the sooner it’s done, Mortie, the better,” added Daggett, glaring down at the detective. “It’ll be a good job to wipe out this dick. If the rest of his push know too much, we’ll croak them, also.” “There’ll be time enough for all that,” said Deland, with characteristic assurance. “I first will finish with this infernal squealer and find out where he stands.” “He’ll settle, by thunder, or we’ll stand him on his head,” snarled Daggett, jerking a chair toward the desk and sitting down. “Get after him, Deland. You’ve been doing the talking.” CHAPTER IX. THE CLOSED DOOR. Nick Carter needed to hear no more than the significant remarks already made, nor really needed to have heard them, in fact, to convince him that his earlier suspicions and deductions, as well as the theory he had formed concerning the terrible crime were almost absolutely correct.