“You know it will not avail you to lie to me.” “I’m giving you a straight story.” “It was you who decoyed the man into Ajeeb’s power.” This was only a chance shot, but it went straight to the mark. Barry became very pale, and he fidgeted nervously in his chair. “Burt,” he said, with a forced smile, “you are talking through your hat.” Burt smiled. He saw he had the villain cornered. “I will prove my assertion,” he said, “at the proper time.” “I defy you to prove anything crooked against me.” “We’ll see about that.” “Are you through with me?” Barry made a motion as if to rise. “Oh, no; keep your seat.” “Well?” “Of course you know where your friend has removed?” “Has he moved?” “You know that very well.” “I saw him last night, and he said nothing about changing his residence.” “You were at his house when his slave, Deth, was killed?” “I know nothing of any one being killed,” said Barry. “How grossly misinformed I am,” sneered the detective. “You certainly are.” “Come.” “Where?” “You are my prisoner.” “Am I?” Barry reached for his revolver as he spoke. CHAPTER XXVI. BULL BLAIR’S ESCAPE. Bull Blair’s attack was so sudden and unexpected that Frank Hare found himself stretched on the floor before he well knew what had happened. “Curse you, you shall never leave this room alive.” Blair produced an ugly-looking knife. “You thought you had me nice,” he added; “and so you did at first.” The brute fell on one knee. At that moment he found himself covered by the detective’s revolver. “Drop that knife or I will send you to the devil, your master.” Bull arose hastily to his feet. Hare did likewise. “Are you going to drop that knife?” said Frank sternly. Blair was cowed. He knew the detective would shoot if he hesitated. With a muttered oath he flung the weapon upon the bed. Frank had had a narrow escape. He wondered why the desperado had not allowed him to retire before attacking him. That was what Bull had intended to do; but, acting upon a sudden impulse, he did not wait for what would have been a more favorable opportunity. “Now,” said Hare, when the other discarded his knife, “you are my prisoner.” “What for?” “For robbing Monte Murphy and leaving him to die.” Bull’s eyes seemed to grow as large as saucers as he looked wonderingly at the detective. How had the latter gained his knowledge? That query puzzled the villain. Blair determined to present a bold front. That was not easy. Like every other bully, he was at heart a great coward. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said. “In court I will be more explicit,” remarked Frank. Bull was an old offender. He had twice been convicted of burglary. At best he would get a long term, and that would practically mean imprisonment for life, as he was past fifty years of age.