“We must move without delay, Chick,” said Nick. “Our rescue of Ida will inform this man that we are in town, and he will run.” “To make our conclusions a dead certainty,” said Chick, “we ought to prove that George Macrane was in New York on the day of the murder.” “We’ll take the chances, and prove it afterward,” said Nick, grimly. “Come.” “Where?” asked Chick. “To see the chief of police.” “At this hour? It is three in the morning.” “He’ll have to stand for it.” They went out and woke up the chief of police, who, understanding the situation, summoned two officers, whom he put at the disposal of Nick. The four then set out for the house of Macrane, arriving there a little after four in the morning. They approached the house cautiously, concealing themselves where they could watch it. A light was burning in the third-story window, which Nick fancied was the window of the room occupied by George Macrane. As they watched, two men came down the street, and, rapping at the door of the Macrane house, asked for George. They were told that he had not yet returned home. Chick’s sharp eyes recognized one of these men as one of those that had opposed their rescue of Ida. These two men sat down on the lower step of the Macrane house. “They mean to wait for George Macrane,” said Nick. They did not wait long, for in ten minutes’ time a man was seen approaching from the opposite direction. The two men stood up to meet him. What they told him could not be heard by Nick and Chick, but it was followed by a frightful explosion of oaths and curses from George Macrane. So frantic, indeed, was this outburst, that Nick thought it proceeded from a craven fear of the result. Touching Chick, and, bidding the officers to follow, Nick slipped across the street, closely approaching the three men before they were seen. Laying his hand on the shoulder of Macrane, Nick said: “George Macrane, you are my prisoner. I want you for the murder of Ethel Romney.” The shock was so sudden that Macrane dropped to the pavement in a heap. If the other two had been disposed to make a resistance they were too much astonished at the charge made against their employer to offer any. They stared in open astonishment, and made no show of objecting when the officers took them in charge. George Macrane soon recovered possession of himself, and, rising, said rather tremblingly, to be sure: “You must be wild to charge me with that. Ethel Romney is in New York.” “She is in Greenwood by this time,” said Nick. “I couldn’t have done her—she in New York and me here,” said Macrane, growing bolder as he talked. “She’s been there a week or more.” “It is useless, Macrane,” said Nick. “We know the whole trick. You were in New York yourself. You laid the game up well, but we know it. “You knew there was a man in New York who was following Ethel’s sister; you were told you looked like him; you saw him, and you trimmed your whiskers to be exactly like him.”