Then he stole up in the direction the others had gone. He passed the man stationed on the hill unrecognized. Arriving at the avenue where the cars ran, he looked around for Moore. By and by he saw him standing in front of a drinking saloon. He edged up close to him and saw he was anxiously waiting for some one. That some one appeared shortly in the person of Masson, from a carriage which was driven up to the place. “Well?” said Masson. “It’s all right, so far,” replied Moore. “The funeral carriages will be along in a moment.” “Is the driver fixed?” asked Moore. “Yes; to be knocked off his box, and one of our men to take his place.” “Does she ride alone?” “No; hang it. There’s a woman with her.” Patsy went out and sat on the curbstone. Something—an outrage of some kind—was on foot. A funeral procession came up—a small one. In the carriage immediately behind the hearse were two women. One he recognized at once. It was Edith, Nick Carter’s wife. The other was Blanche Constant. He was sure of that from the description he had had of her and a photograph he had seen. Something of the villainy on foot came to him. He hurried back to his post and again became a steward of the _Derelict_. His wait was a long one. By and by he saw the red cloth waved by the man on the hill. He gave the signal of the white cloth—indeed, gave it without care as to whether or not there was any one near or not. A minute later a carriage came dashing over the hill. Four men sprang out, one seizing the horses, while one knocked the driver from the box and climbed up himself. Two others climbed into the coach from either side. Then the coach made straight for the landing where the launch was. Patsy started on a run for the little pier, and at the land end waited, well hidden. As the coach whirled up, he could see within it. Edith was there, and so was Blanche Constant, but both were unconscious. Masson and Moore were both there also. The two men—the signal man and the one who had stopped the horses—were left behind. Masson had planned to seize Blanche Constant as she was returning from the funeral of her sister and carry her off in his yacht. Edith had been with Blanche, contrary to expectation, and she had been dosed to prevent her from interfering, but was to be sent back to the city. Patsy’s plan was made in an instant—a plan to spoil the plan that had been carefully laid. He waited until Masson got out of the coach and had lifted Blanche out. Then he sprang into full view, both revolvers leveled. “Hold!” he cried. “Put that lady down!” “What!” shouted Masson. “What the deuce! Moore, look to that fellow!” The driver made a movement as if to get off his box. “Jim Grady!” cried Patsy; “if you stir, I’ll put a ball into you and pull you in beside for that job of two nights ago!” “Heavens!” cried the driver, “it’s Patsy Murphy!”