Instead, he caught up a newspaper and held it in front of Dinsmore. “Read it!” he whispered, “and don’t show your face!” Four men were coming in from the street. One of them was the man whom Nick had known as George Snell. As the detective was now disguised, he did not hesitate to show his face. It looked, however, as if his disguise would have been unnecessary, for Snell walked quickly across the room and out by a door at the back. One of the four went with him. The other two stepped up to the bar and called for drinks. Snell came back in a short time with the man who had gone out with him. “Have something?” asked a man at the bar. “No,” replied Snell; “let’s be going.” The four then went out at once. “Great Scott!” whispered Dinsmore, “that was Gov. Bradley’s voice!” “Of course it was,” replied Nick. “Come on.” They kept on the track of the four men, and followed them to a house in a quiet street. There was a light in the kitchen windows. “Crooked work here,” whispered Dinsmore. “Sure!” replied Nick. “We must get a line on it, if possible.” They had not gone very near the house, presuming that there might be men on guard who would give warning to the others. It seemed best to try to get at the kitchen windows from behind, and, accordingly, they went around to another street, through a yard, and over a fence. This took some time, but the lights were still there, and all was quiet within. Although the curtains were down, they managed to get a glimpse inside through a small hole. It was just enough to show a good many tough-looking men around a table, with Snell in the middle. He was counting out a big roll of bills. “Buying back the papers,” whispered Nick, “and paying the ransom for his daughter.” “What! you don’t mean——” “Miss Bradley was kidnaped. That’s what I mean. Ah! if the governor had had the sense to tell me the whole truth!” Nick was thinking. “There are a good many of them,” whispered Dinsmore; “shall we go to headquarters for a squad of police?” “No. They’ll be through in a minute. We must make a bluff, and they’ll think they’re surrounded. You go to the front door, and I’ll tackle them here.” CHAPTER VIII. THE RANSOM. Harry had brought down what the leader of the gang called “the goods.” This was a parcel of papers done up in red tape. It was laid on the kitchen table, and Snell began to count out the money that he had shown a few minutes before. “I have forty thousand dollars here,” he remarked. “Ought to be twice that!” growled the leader. “That was the price agreed on with Leonard, wasn’t it?” “Go ahead.” “You haven’t produced the goods.” Snell, or, rather, Gov. Bradley, stopped counting out the money, and looked straight at the leader. “Plank down the money!” ordered the leader, harshly. Just then there was a furious knocking at both the back and front doors. Loud voices—there seemed to be a dozen of them—were crying: