"So we established this plant for Pylotte to do his clever work in," continued Kilgore, disregarding the interruption. "Luckily, Venner already owned this old mansion, as well as that in which he lives; and fortunately, both places are somewhat secluded, with extensive grounds abutting. That enabled us to frame up a very snug and safe retreat." "Sure it did." "So we went to work," Kilgore proceeded, discursively. "We built our plant, placed our machinery, rigged a private telephone between this house and Venner's, and tapped the electric conduit with a secret wire, to give us light and feed our furnace." "That was my work," nodded Stall, with a touch of pride. "Right you are, Matt, and mighty good work, too," bowed Kilgore. "In a nutshell, boys, after two months' secret work, we have accomplished all we planned, and now have Venner sliding our goods upon the market at a fabulous profit. In a single year, barring these infernal Carters, every man of us should be a millionaire." "But why this sudden fear of the Carters?" growled Dalton, impatiently. "I'll now tell you why," cried Kilgore, with voice lowered, and an ugly gleam in his frowning eyes. "We cannot sack Cervera, nor put out her light, for she's too good and strong a card for us to lose. But in losing her head over Venner, and jealously doing up that girl to-day, she has given the Carters a clew by which to track us." "How so, Dave?" muttered Stall, growing a bit pale. "Through Venner, of course!" Kilgore forcibly argued. "Until this job of to-day, Carter has had no definite suspicion of Venner, a possibility which we headed off with that fake robbery. Now, however, since Cervera must lie low, and Carter knows of her relations with Venner, he will suspect the latter and make him a constant mark, in the hope of landing the girl." "By Heaven, that's so!" snarled Dalton, quickly seeing the point. "And that's not the worst of it," added Kilgore. "The moment he suspects Venner, Carter will connect him with us, and know that that robbery was a put-up job. Then he'll begin to seek us and our game." "But how can he locate us?" "Locate us?" sneered Kilgore, acidly. "You don't know Nick Carter! I'll tell you, Spotty, he can smell a rat further than any ferret that ever shoved his nose under a miller's barn. As sure as death and taxes, Nick Carter will run us down and land us, every mother's son of us--unless we can get him, and put him down and out." "By Heaven, I begin to think so myself," growled Stall. "If we--" "There are no ifs, ands or buts about it, Matt," interrupted Kilgore, decisively. "We must down them both, Nick and Chick Carter, or our game is as good as done for." "But how can we land them, Dave, and when?" "I already have a plan, and I think the first move may be made this very night." "What's the plan, Dave?"