The face back of the hands that held the weapons was not that of their employer, Claymore, but that of their deadly enemy, Nick Carter. CHAPTER XVI. HANK LOW’S LUCK. Claymore was not in his boarding house when Nick and Patsy arrived there. He had come in and gone out shortly afterward. Where he had gone, or in what direction, nobody could say. Possibly to Daddy Drew’s to meet the desperadoes he had hired to commit murder; but Nick didn’t believe it. “That long work in his office this evening means something else,” said Nick. “He’s got another plot up his sleeve. I’ll go to Daddy Drew’s and get those men.” Accordingly, he had turned his face into a copy of Claymore’s and had been admitted easily. Nat had said he would put up a stiff fight if he should meet Carter, and he kept his word. Probably he reckoned that the detective would wish to take him alive, for he did not surrender when he saw the revolver pointed at his heart. Instead, he made a quick rush at Nick, trying to knock up both his arms. The detective was quite ready for that. It was true that he wished to take the men alive, and he did not fire. He had hoped they would be scared into quiet surrender. When the attack came, he dropped both weapons to the sidewalk. Letting drive with his fists, he caught Nat on the chest, and knocked the wind out of him. But the crook did not fall. He staggered against Jack, who at first was going to give up. Seeing that the weapons had been dropped, Jack joined in and made a desperate effort for freedom. He caught his partner and kept him from falling. Then both together sailed into the detective. “Why!” said Nick, with a laugh, “come on, if that’s what you want.” His arms shot out like lightning flashes, and every blow landed, but the crooks kept too close for him to give them settlers. And, after a moment, Jack retreated and drew his revolver. That was a moment of peril for Nick, as he was busy just then with Nat. And Nat, seeing the chance, pretended to be knocked down. This was to give Jack a chance to shoot. Up came the ruffian’s revolver, but before he could aim, around the corner rushed the drunken man whom they had seen. This man threw his arms about Jack’s neck, and bore him silently to the ground. “Put the bracelets on him, Patsy,” called Nick. “They’re on,” replied the “drunken man,” calmly. Nick had leaped upon Nat, and in a second had him ironed. “This is the way I settle,” he said, as he stood up. The prisoners cursed furiously, but if that did them any good nobody knew it. Nick picked up his revolvers, and then he and Patsy marched the prisoners to headquarters. Kerr was still there, and he was surrounded by eager reporters. “Here are the murderers,” said Nick. “Low is innocent.” He produced the amateur’s photograph, and told the story as briefly as possible.