The Spider was shooting toward a tree, a hundred feet ahead, and Nick seemed to be working frantically at the levers in an attempt to stop it. Suddenly Spark, who sat directly behind Nick, thrust a hand in his pocket and slipped his fingers through a set of brass knuckles. Bringing the hand out of his pocket, Spark half arose and dealt the detective a smashing blow on the back of the head. Nick fell forward, stunned and helpless. “He was shamming!” cried Spark; “quick, Clancy! Turn the machine, or we’re gone!” Clancy flung himself on the steering lever and swerved the auto so that it missed the tree by a hair’s breadth. A moment more and he had halted the ponderous machine. “He was trying to do for us,” said Spark, excitedly. “But why in the fiend’s name should he try to wreck us?” answered Clancy. “He would have done for himself as well.” “He had some game, I tell you,” persisted Spark. “He must be one of Nick Carter’s men. He wants revenge for what you and I did to Carter, Clancy.” “Bosh! Your nerves are running away with you, Spark.” “Look here!” Spark leaned over Nick and tore the false mustache from his lip. “Now what do you think? This sneak thief of yours, Clancy, has been in disguise!” Clancy voiced a lurid oath. “I wish I knew Carter’s assistants,” he added, with a fierce growl; “but I don’t even know Carter himself, except from description.” “Are you sure we got Carter at the hotel?” queried Cricket. “Nicholas is the name he uses, now and then, and we know he took that bank robbery case. You followed him from the Holland Hotel to the Central House, Cricket, and ought to know him, if anybody does.” “Nicholas was disguised,” said Cricket, “and I couldn’t tell what he looked like with the disguise off. But he didn’t look anything like this fellow.” “This chap is trying to plug our game, anyhow,” said Clancy, a savage gleam in his eyes, “and right here is our chance to get rid of him. Bring out a couple of ropes, Cricket.” Cricket fumbled around in the bottom of the auto, and finally found a piece of rope, which he cut in two. Nick was still unconscious, and did not recover his wits until the tying operation had been completed. When he opened his eyes, Clancy was going through his pockets. “Guns, and handcuffs, and a pocket bull’s-eye,” muttered Clancy, producing the articles one by one and handing them over the back of the front seat to Spark and Cricket. “A nice equipment for a sneak thief to tote around with him. He’s Nick Carter’s assistant, all right.” “He has two men assistants,” spoke up Spark--“Chick and Patsy.” “I have heard of them,” said Clancy, with an oath. “Here, you!” he added, grabbing Nick by the shoulders and giving him a rough shake; “what sort of a deal were you trying to ring in on us?” “Who hit me?” demanded Nick. “I did,” asserted Spark. “What did you try to wreck the auto for?” “I couldn’t manage it.”