“Darwin told me that he used to go there years ago.” Carter had stopped using the tough vernacular, but Brockey did not notice it. The detective was slightly disappointed. He thought at first that Brockey knew more about the crime. But still, the rascal’s evidence would show that Rich and Darwin had said that they would follow the old man. “Did Darwin tell you whether he or Rich followed the old man after you left them?” Carter asked. “He did not,” Brockey replied. “But I guess Rich was the one.” “What makes you think so?” “Didn’t you read about what the bartender had to say?” “You mean about the tall man who entered the barroom after the old man?” “Yes.” “Is that all you know?” “It is, Mugsey.” “I think you know more.” “No.” Carter, while he was talking, rose from his chair, holding one of his hands in the side pocket of his coat. Brockey did not move. Even when the detective drew up near to him he did not suspect that he was in any danger. He poured out another glass full of liquor and drank it. As he was in the act of placing the glass back on the table Carter caught hold of him, and, before he could move or utter a word, the detective had the handcuffs clasped around his wrists. “What does this mean?” Brockey ejaculated, with a fierce oath, and, as he tried to jump to his feet, he faced the pistol which Carter pointed at him. The detective pulled off his disguise. Brockey recognized him. He uttered a cry of terror, his face turned pale with alarm, and he sank down into his chair. “Carter!” he gasped. “Yes, and you’re my prisoner,” the detective smilingly replied. “I’m done for.” “There is not the slightest room for doubt, my dear Brockey.” “I never thought I’d be taken in in such a way--curse the luck!” “There will be no chance for you to escape this time.” “If I had suspected----” “You would have tried to have killed me.” “I would.” From his pocket Nick pulled out a silk cord. With it he bound Brockey’s arms and legs so tight that there was no chance for the rascal to escape. “What are you going to do with me?” Brockey asked, when Carter had finished binding him. “I am going to let you remain here for the present,” the detective answered. “Alone?” “Oh, no!” Brockey subsided into sullen silence, and glared fiercely at Carter. Inwardly he cursed him. The detective walked to the door and unlocked and opened it. Then he stepped out into the hall and gave a peculiar whistle. In a few minutes Patsy bounded up the stairs from the floor below. “What do you want, Mr. Carter?” the young man asked as he confronted his chief. “I have a prisoner in that room,” Carter replied, pointing toward the room. “I want you to guard him.” “I’ll do it.” “See that you do, Patsy. If he should escape, my case might be ruined.” “He won’t get a chance to escape.” “I hope not.” “Who is it?” “Brockey Gann.” “Gee!” “You know him?” “I should say I do.” “He is a dangerous rascal.”