“Surest thing you know.” “Where is Nick?” “Well, I have a hunch, now, that he is in that house,” said Patsy, pointing. “David Mack’s house.” “That is?” “Surely. He is the man we want, the chief crook of the bunch.” Patsy looked puzzled. He did not then know what Nick Carter had dug from under the surface. “Gee! that beats me,” he muttered. Then, more hurriedly: “I followed Duffy’s wife and boy out here, and have been watching ever since and waiting for darkness. Less than half an hour ago a big touring car came out, containing a veiled woman and three men. They now are in the house. One of them is Jack Conroy, I reckon, for he answers the description and wears a figured vest.” “Jack Conroy and David Mack are one and the same.” “The devil you say!” “Devil is right, I guess,” chuckled Chick. “What more? Why do you think Nick is in the house?” “Because they stopped the car at the side door, that one under the porte-cochère, and the three men lugged in a big burden wrapped in the robes. It looked like the figure of a man, but I couldn’t be sure of it. If----” “There will be no ifs, Patsy, in about five minutes,” Chick interrupted. “The darkness now will cover our approach. Come on, all hands! We’ll find out why the milk is in the coconut--even if we have to break a nut or two.” CHAPTER IX. THE DROP SHOT. Chick Carter led the way across one side of the wooded estate, closely followed by Patsy and the two headquarters’ detectives. They moved noiselessly over the damp greensward, like shadows only a little darker than the darkness, and picked their way toward two lighted windows back of the porte-cochère. Though the curtains had been lowered, a thread of bright light under one of them told that a view of the room could easily be obtained. Chick and Patsy crept near enough to peer in, and the scene that met their gaze was about what they expected. The room was the library. Seated in it was the entire gang of crooks--Mack, Duffy, Gleason, and Kennedy, with Duffy’s wife and son, and Kate Crandall. All were divested of their outdoor garments. All wore expressions of grim exultation--the occasion for which was plainly manifest. They were gazing darkly at the only other occupant of the room. Nick Carter sat bound securely to a large armchair in one corner. His face was pale and a bit drawn, but the light in his stern eyes told the nature of his thoughts. Chick did not wait to hear what was being said. He saw a revolver on the table near Mack’s hand. He drew Patsy back a little, then whispered: “There is a conservatory back of the house, with an inner door leading into the library.” “I noticed it,” murmured Patsy. “I can get into the conservatory with Jenks and Gilman. The three of us can then force the inner door in a jiffy.” “Sure! Like breaking sticks.” “You remain here.” “Why here?” “You saw the gun on the table?” “You bet!”