He tore off Patsy’s disguise while speaking, and his confederates hastened to obey his commands. In less time than would be required to describe their doings in detail, Patsy was deprived of his two revolvers, his arms secured behind him, the window closed, and the curtain completely drawn, precluding further observation from outside. Margate, in the meantime, appeared to regain his composure. That he regarded Patsy’s presence there as exceedingly ominous, moreover, was manifest in the expression that had settled on his white, hard-set face. It reflected all that was devilish in his nature, giving the lie to his outward calmness, and evincing the vicious determination and designs back of his self-restraint. Such men are most to be feared. “Now, Haley, slip out and have a look around the house,” he directed. “Make sure that no one else is nosing around here. I reckon you’ll find no one. I think I now see through Carter’s game of this evening and why this rat is here. If I am right, we shall never leave here alive to tell the story. Slip out and have a look, Haley, nevertheless. We’ll take no needless chances.” Haley pulled his woolen cap over his brow and hastened from the house. Margate pointed to the chair directly opposite that which he had taken. “Sit down, Garvan, and feel yourself at home!” he commanded, with ominous politeness. “You may as well, since you are booked to remain here.” Patsy obeyed, sitting down and speaking for the first time since entering the house. “Is that so?” he inquired indifferently. “Decidedly so.” “Well, this is not so bad,” Patsy dryly observed, gazing around. “It will be bad enough, Garvan, you’ll find,” Margate more sternly informed him. “Your work of to-night will prove disastrous for you. The discovery of my identity is the worst discovery you could have made. It leaves me no alternative.” “You mean?” “I must effectually silence you.” “Ah, I see.” “And that can be done in only one way.” “By wiping me off the map, I suppose?” “Exactly. Dead men tell no tales.” “So I have heard,” said Patsy, as complacently as if discussing the price of ice. “Nevertheless, Mr. Margate, I am glad that I have unmasked you. I will confess, too, that I was never more surprised in my life. So I am to be turned toes up, am I?” “As sure as you are looking at me at this moment,” Margate coldly informed him. “Well, that’s reasonably sure,” said Patsy. “I almost feel myself going. Before the final trick is turned, however, I really wish you would answer one question.” “What question, Garvan?” “How the dickens did you contrive to give us the slip a year ago?” Margate smiled derisively. Patsy knew that he was exceedingly proud of his evil exploits, and he felt sure that he would answer the question. His chief motive for asking it, however, was to gain time in which to consider his own situation, and to devise, if possible, a way of escape from the fate that threatened him.