“Now, my cunning friends,” he mused, “your sailor will strike this slanting board when you dump him into the shaft and be shunted into this basement. I hope they will dump him in without throwing a flash of light into the shaft. That might spoil everything, as it would disclose the presence of the board and might make it necessary for me to do a little shooting.” Satisfied as to the utility of his plan, the detective stood in the open doorway, and waited. Before long he heard a sound at the trapdoor above, and a gleam of light appeared. Nick almost held his breath. If they should take a notion to look down the shaft, his plans would be ruined. But they did not. It was a gruesome place at best, and the associations were probably far from pleasant, so they just lifted the trap in the floor above and threw the sailor down. Nick knew by the movements above, plainly heard as being directly over his head, that the man had been taken from the rear room to the hall and there disposed of. It was pitch dark in the basement, so those above could not see that the door was open. In a second the unconscious man came tumbling down, and Nick stood ready to direct the fall into the basement where he stood. The man struck the plank, which gave a trifle under the weight, and slid swiftly toward the door. There was not room on either side of the plank to fall off. “This is great business for the heart of New York City,” thought Nick, as he caught the sailor in his arms. “Now, I wonder how badly this man is injured?” He flashed a gleam from his flash on the man’s face, which was covered with blood, and saw that his eyes were opening. Then the man raised his head and tried to speak. The detective lifted him higher and bent his ear to catch the sound. “There was no killin’,” the man muttered. “But the man up there is dead,” whispered Nick, in the man’s ear. “Who did the killing?” “We did not,” was the faint reply. “Where did you get the diamonds?” asked Nick, seeing that the man had been fatally wounded by the savage blow of the bully, and could not last much longer. “We watched an’ got them from——” That was all. It was only a dead man that lay in the detective’s arms. The sailor had died with the secret on his lips, when one more word would have set everything straight. There was now but one thing for the detective to do, and that was to reach Patsy and the other sailor, and take the latter into custody. He was guilty only of robbery, and might be induced to tell the truth by promises of leniency. Besides, he would doubtless be greatly enraged at the murder of his companion, and this might cause him to relate not only the events of the night at the Maynard house, but also the deal with Hartley. For the murder of the sailor, Hartley and the bully could be called to account later.