“I came here and went, as he told me, to a low saloon, where I stayed till he came, and the rest you know.” “Not quite all,” said Nick; “wasn’t there a man on your track all this time?” “Not that I know of, though yesterday a stranger was found spying on us. The gang killed him.” “How? When? Where?” demanded Nick, anxiously. Gov. Bradley told him about the way the stranger was put down the cellar. “And I was there,” thought Nick, with deep sorrow, “perhaps in time to save him! I wish I had let the governor go.” They went to the house, and found it deserted by all, save the dead Harry. What Nick saw, though, the open knife, the cut cords, convinced him that Patsy had made his escape. But the case did not seem to be finished, for the valuable papers and the governor’s daughter were still missing, to say nothing of the great ransom that had been paid down. So Nick went with the governor to Manchester, and there found Patsy, Miss Estelle, and all that the governor had been looking for. It is supposed that one of the gang hid the papers and the money in the box under the stairs during the confusion of the attempt to escape. “It was a clever move,” said Nick, discussing it; “for the rascal must have known that some, if not all the gang, would be captured, and it would be foolish to have the stuff captured with them. So he took the chance of hiding it, meaning to go back some time, next day, probably, and get it.” Gov. Bradley offered to pay Nick and Patsy for their services. “I don’t think we want any pay,” replied Nick. “We’ve had a good time out of it, and we weren’t engaged on the matter at all. But I’d like to ask two favors.” “They shall be granted,” said the governor. “First, then, when you have detective work to do in the future, don’t try to do it yourself.” “That’s easy,” laughed the governor; “you may be sure I shan’t try that sort of thing again.” “The second,” said Nick, “is that you consent to the marriage of your daughter and Cecil West. He’s a fine young man——” “I yield,” interrupted Gov. Bradley. “I will send for West at once.” CHAPTER IX. A CALL TO COLORADO. “Patsy, here’s a letter from a friend of mine in Colorado who asks me to go around that way and look at some mining property he’s got.” “Just the thing,” said Patsy. “I’m pretty sick of British America, and I guess Colorado is about as good a way as any other to get back to old New York. I don’t suppose we’ll ever strike that gang of villains again.” “You think not?” queried Nick. “I’m not usually disposed to plume myself on any prophetic gifts, but something tells me that before we sight the Brooklyn Bridge again we’ll have some of the members of that gang to deal with once more. In the meantime, however, we’ll accept this invitation to Colorado.”