Yes; only too well did the rascal know. “I don’t know.” “Where is your friend?” “Whom do you mean?” “Bull Blair.” “He is no friend of mine.” “He was here?” “Yes,” grumbled the dive-keeper. “I suppose he called around to tell you he had secured that wonderful green diamond?” remarked Burt quietly. Quick started. His nervous excitement was mirrored upon his face. Blair had secured the prize. The thought was galling. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said. “You know very well I mean the diamond Cook told you about.” It now broke upon the wretch that Enoch, in whom he had so deeply trusted, had turned informer. On all sides he seemed surrounded by enemies. Mike groaned in very anguish of spirit. He cursed himself for having returned to his den. “Cook never spoke to me about any diamond,” he said. “I prefer to believe Enoch in preference to you,” remarked Burt. Quick made a motion as if to put his hands behind him. “Keep your hands in view, or I will shoot,” cried Burt determinedly. Mike placed his hands on his knees. “Will that answer?” he asked. “Yes; keep them there.” “I shall.” “Now, my friend, will you please tell me what led you to kill Monte Murphy?” The dive-keeper’s cheeks became ashen pale. “I did not kill the man.” “I have his word for it, and he should know,” said Burt. “I have not even seen the man in more than a year.” “Mike, lying will avail you nothing.” “When was he killed?” “You should know the hour at which you stabbed; he died some time later.” “Burt, I swear I am guiltless of the charge you make.” “Then you will be given a chance to prove your innocence. Bull Blair knows that you stabbed the old man.” “Does he say so?” “No; but he will tell all he knows readily enough when he is placed on the stand.” Now Quick believed his late companion had been arrested. He did not dare ask Burt if such was the case. “Burt, you are really barking up the wrong tree,” said Quick. “Do you intend to submit quietly to arrest?” remarked Burt. “What’s the use of kicking?” “Hold out your hands together and as far as you can.” The dive-keeper obeyed. All his brutal courage seemed to have oozed out at his finger ends. In a jiffy Burt snapped handcuffs on the fellow’s wrists. “Now, my friend,” said the detective, “I’ve got you snug enough.” “Burt, would you mind answering a question of mine?” “Certainly not.” “Has Enoch Cook turned up as an informer?” asked Quick. “I don’t know as you can properly designate him as an informer. Just now, however, Enoch is in my employ.” An oath escaped the prisoner. If Cook was in the detective’s employ, he certainly could not be anything else but an informer. That’s the way Quick argued the matter. “Enoch used to talk very loud against you chaps,” remarked Mike. “He has come to see the error of his ways,” smiled Burt. “Oh, no; he is an old hand and cannot lead a straight life, no matter how hard he may try,” declared Quick.