“Bah! you taught her to hate me long ago,” said Wilbur. “Give up this life,” pleaded the banker. “I will give you half of what I possess.” “I want it not,” was the rejoinder; “all your millions could not make white my blood-stained soul. Some day I may reach the gallows, and it will read nicely in fashionable society that the son of the banker, Hilton Field, was hanged for murder.” Once more the gray-haired old men knelt at his son’s feet. “Have you no pity?” he cried. “I always loved you until----” Wilbur did not allow him to finish the sentence. “Until,” said the son, “you turned him adrift. I could throttle you.” Hilton Field, the stern, hard, money-getter, bowed his head and wept. CHAPTER IX. A PLOT WELL FOILED. The next day Tambourine Jack came to Nick with a budget full of news. He had been shadowing Elmer Greer and had seen him with Louise. “Good!” said Nick Carter. “Where did the fellow lead you?” “Well, me and the bloke put in yesterday in Wall Street,” answered Tambourine Jack; “the night before we were at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he was inside and I was outside. Last night we visited a chap that is a friend of mine. He keeps a crib down near the Thirty-fourth Street ferry.” “Jack Shea?” “You’ve hit it the first jump,” said Jack. “This morning he and I, and the gal, took a run down to Flatbush. I got a job from him helping to carry furniture into their house.” “You are certain you can find this house in Flatbush?” remarked Nick Carter. “Oh, that’s easy, it’s No. --, Bay Street,” replied the youth. “Did you see anyone at the house but the man and woman?” “Yes; there were four or five plug-uglies there. One chap’s name is Luke--leastways, that’s what my gentleman called him.” It was now late in the afternoon, and when Nick Carter and Tambourine Jack reached Flatbush it was dark. They turned up Bay Street, but Nick had not gone above a hundred yards when he saw three men approaching, one of whom he recognized by his voice. That one was Elmer Greer. The detective’s first impulse was to seize his prey, but he thought better of it. “There is something new afoot,” he muttered, “and I will discover what it is before I land my fish.” “Mr. Carter,” whispered Jack, “that chap on the outside is Jack Shea.” “I tell you everything is easy,” the detective heard Greer say; “there will not be the slightest hitch.” “We had better bring tools along,” suggested Jack Shea. “It is unnecessary,” said Elmer, “I know the combination; it is 10-50-75.” “There may be some slip up,” persisted Shea; “I don’t go unless we have tools.” “Have it your own way,” said Greer; “where are we to get tools?” “Don’t worry about that,” replied Jack, “I have a fine set at my place.” “I will meet you then at the corner of Broad and Wall Streets at ten.” “No, you won’t, Greer,” said the fellow, who up to this time had not spoken, “you will go with us.”