“We went out by the servants’ door and stairs,” said Clara. “Not until we arrived in the park road, where I saw an open motor car in the starlight, did I realize that I had been duped, that I really was in the hands of Chester Clayton’s double.” “I see.” “It was then too late. I was seized by him and two other men and forced to enter the car. They threatened to kill me if I uttered a cry. I did not dare do so. I was forced to go with them.” “But you contrived to drop fragments of your veil,” said Chick admiringly. Mrs. Clayton’s countenance lighted. “You found them, then?” she cried inquiringly. “You bet we found them.” “I pretended to be crying bitterly all the while,” she went on to explain. “So I was, in fact, with my head bowed in my hands, but I contrived to tear off bits of the veil at intervals and drop them from the car. I hoped----” “Your hope is fulfilled,” Chick interposed. “They enabled us to trace you. Nick should be somewhere near here, unless he----” He stopped short, interrupted by the sudden sharp crack of a revolver--that of Patsy Garvan, when he killed Ben Ardley. “Great Scott!” Chick exclaimed. “Wait here, Mrs. Clayton. I’ll see what that means.” He did not wait for an answer, but darted out through a side door of the house. The first person he caught sight of was Margate, just leaping through the broken door of the building, some fifty yards from the house. The rascal was reaching for a revolver, and was turning toward the door at the opposite end of the building. Margate caught sight of Chick at that moment, however, instantly recognizing him, and all that was cowardly in him leaped into play. He did not put up a fight, did not venture attempting to rescue his confederates in crime, but he turned like a mongrel cur and darted down to the launch near the river bank, bent only upon making his escape. Chick saw his design and pursued him, whipping out a revolver. At the same moment he caught sight of Patsy Garvan and the cornered gang through the broken door. Without pausing, he yelled at the top of his lungs: “Keep them covered, Patsy. I’ll get this other rat.” Patsy heard him and recognized his voice. It was like sweet music, too, in Patsy’s ears. He felt, then, that he could have held up a regiment. Margate had a considerable start on the detective, and he already had cast off the launch and was cranking the motor wheel when Chick approached the bank. By a stroke of sheer good luck he got the ignition with the first turn of the wheel, and a swirl of bubbling black water surged out from under the boat’s low stern. She made way instantly, and Margate dropped flat near the wheel, out of range of a bullet. Chick then was dashing down the bank at top speed. He saw the launch start, then veer into the stream, moving faster, and he saw that her stern was swinging for a moment nearer the bank. It was a moment when some men would have hesitated, most men, in fact--but not Chick Carter.