CHAPTER VII.
THE GANG AND THE GAME.
Nick Carter did not fall far, yet far enough to jar him from head to foot and smash to fragments the chair on which he was seated.
Nick landed in about a foot of water, moreover, drenching him to the skin, yet the chill of which served instantly to revive him.
He found himself in almost total darkness. The only light came through a chink a foot or more above his head. It served to reveal four bare, wet walls of planking, however, also the floor through which he had been precipitated, with the trapdoor now grimly closed.
Nick had heard the crash of it when Ardley closed and secured it, also the mocking roar of the monstrous rascal, and it took Nick only a moment to determine in what sort of a trap he was confined.
He could hear the gurgling of the water in the mill sluice, separated from him by one of the plank walls, and he knew that the rocky ground under his feet must be on a level with the bottom of the sluice.
“By Jove, that was a quick and unexpected trick,” he muttered, after scrambling up from the water swirling around him. “I’m in a section of the sluiceway that has been boarded in to reduce the flow of water to the wheel. If this rascal opens the gate that admits the water from the river—well, I shall be drowned like a rat in a trap.
“Did he have that infernal contrivance constructed for such emergency as that in which I placed him? This looks very much like it. I have in Chick, however, an anchor to the windward. If I can stave off a more devilish move by this scoundrel, it’s long odds that Chick will show up in time to take a hand in the game.”
It was not in Nick’s nature to hurry to meet trouble halfway. He preferred to combat it only when it overtook him.
A brief examination of the four walls in which he was confined, and which inclosed a space about eight feet square, convinced him that immediate escape was utterly impossible.
Listening, he could hear Ardley’s tread on the floor, but not a sound yet had come from the scoundrel, though several minutes had passed since he closed and secured the trap.
“By Jove, the rascal may be getting ready to open the sluice gate,” thought Nick, shifting a revolver to his side pocket. “I guess I’d better shout up to him and engage him in conversation. I must find some way to play for time.”
Nick was about to do so, glancing up at the gloomy floor, when the hurried tread of other feet fell upon his ears, quickly followed by a voice which he instantly recognized.
“Well, Ben, what do you say? Have you got him? I know you have, all right. Your face shows it.”
“Margate’s voice, as sure as I’m a foot high,” thought Nick. “I have the satisfaction, at least, of having run down these rascals. That may not be all, by Jove, if they will only continue talking.”
There appeared to be no immediate reason to doubt that they would, for Ardley was triumphantly stating what had followed the detective’s entrance.
“You bet I’ve got him, Dave,” he bellowed, in conclusion. “There’s no way he can get out of the trap. I can drown him like a rat in a firkin. It’s dead lucky you telephoned to me and put me wise.”
“I did so as soon as he left the road house.”
“He showed up there, did he?”
“Yes. Morley and Conroy were having a drink in the barroom when he came in.”
“They knew him, eh?”
“Bet you!” said Margate expressively. “They came up and told me. I was just out of bed.”
“How did you know he was coming here?”
“I stole down on the stairs and heard him ask Dugan about the sign on your building,” Margate explained. “I knew by the way he spoke, then, that he would head for here. So I phoned over and put you on your guard.”
“It’s dead lucky you did,” Ardley repeated. “He would have got me, all right, if I hadn’t been wise. But I was ready for him. I had the chair right on the trapdoor. He planked himself down on it, when I told him to, like a kid on a circus seat. There was nothing to it after that. How did you fellows come over?”
“Dugan brought us in his launch.”
“Where is he?”
“He remained to make her fast. Ah, here he comes, now.”
All of this enlightening conversation was plainly heard by the listening detective. Mingled with the voices of the others, he occasionally heard those of Morley and Conroy, also the heavy tread of Dugan when he strode into the building, and Nick then knew that the entire gang was gathered there.
“So that is how it was accomplished,” he said to himself, when a momentary lull in the conversation followed Margate’s last remark. “That’s why the milk is in the coconut. But don’t get gay too quickly, you rascals, for you may throw a shoe.”
Nick’s train of thought was broken by another question from Margate.
“Have you seen him since you downed him, or heard from him?” he asked, with a more malicious ring in his voice.
“Not yet, nor a sound from below,” Ardley informed him, with a growl.
“The fall may have broken his neck,” cried Margate. “I hope it did. That would save us the trouble. Open the peek, Ardley. Let me have a look at him.”
Nick reached for his revolver. Before he could draw it, however, the quick click of a metal spring fell upon his ears, and light entered his dismal confinement through a square hole in the floor, which was nearly four feet above his head.
At the same moment Margate’s threatening voice cried sharply:
“Don’t pull a gun, Carter, or I’ll drop you on the instant. I’ve got you covered.”
Nick looked up through the opening and saw the malevolent face of the rascal, also the gleam of light from the revolver aimed down at him.
“Take your hand from your pocket,” Margate sternly added. “Make sure it’s empty when you draw it out, too, or you’ll hear something drop.”
Nick removed his hand from his pocket.
“I already have heard something drop, Margate,” he coolly answered, leaning against one of the plank walls.
“You’re lucky to be alive after it,” returned Margate, with a malicious leer.
“I’m not the kind that dies easy,” Nick retorted.
“You’re booked to get yours this time, all the same.”
“Possibly.”
“You might as well take off that spinach, too,” Margate tauntingly added. “I know you, all right, and what you’re out after.”
Nick removed his disguise and thrust it into his pocket.
“I have found what I am after, Margate,” he said, more sternly.
Margate laughed derisively.
“Much good that will do you,” he replied. “You haven’t found the one whom you are after.”
“The time will come.”
“Your time will, Carter, all right,” snapped Margate, shaking the weapon at him. “It already has come, in fact. Here is where I get even with you for having queered my game of months ago. I have been lying low since then, and just waiting to frame up this job.”
“You will lie low later, Margate, take my word for it,” Nick said significantly.
Margate laughed again.
“Don’t bank on that, Carter,” he retorted. “I already have demonstrated that you are not in my class. That trick I served you in the Hotel Westgate ought to convince you of it.”
“I admit it was clever. Otherwise, you never would have got by.”
“Not more clever than that of last night,” grinned Margate. “I don’t mind telling you. I’ve got the woman, Clayton’s new wife. I’ll make him and her father pay all you robbed me of when you deprived me of Mademoiselle Falloni’s jewels.”
“I suspected that was your game,” said Nick, with seeming indifference.
“You bet it’s my game.”
“Take heed you don’t lose it.”
“Let me alone to do that,” snapped Margate, more sharply. “I’m going to pay you, too, for having sent my good friends to prison. I’ll send you to a closer confinement than they are in.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I knew you were at Langham Manor last night. I knew, too, hang you, that you would instantly take on this case and set to work to trace me. How did you do it so quickly?”
“Oh, it wasn’t very difficult,” said Nick. “Such fellows as you are quite easily traced.”
“Is that so, Carter?”
“The circumstances should convince you of it.”
“How did you contrive to hit my trail?”
“It’s not my habit to explain my methods,” Nick said slowly, bent upon prolonging the conversation, if possible.
Margate seemed to suspect something of the kind, for his brows knit suddenly and his eyes took on a more threatening gleam. He crouched nearer to the opening, again shaking his revolver at the helpless detective, while he cried more fiercely:
“You’d better hand it to me straight, Carter, or you’ll mighty quick get all that’s coming to you.”
“Hand you what, Margate?” Nick drawled.
“Hang it, Margate, he’s stringing you,” Conroy now cried fiercely, gazing down at Nick over the other’s shoulder. “The sooner he’s handed his, Margate, the better ’twill be for us. There’s no telling what he has up his sleeve, or who else is on the case. We may get it in the neck from another quarter.”
“That’s right, too,” snarled Ardley sonorously.
Margate seemed suddenly impressed with the same threatening possibility. He sprang up, instantly closing the opening, and swung round to Ardley.
“Will that trap fill quickly, Ben, if you open the sluice gate?” he demanded, with a murderous light in his evil eyes.
“In about three minutes, Dave,” was the reply.
“How do you open it?”
“By throwing that lever,” said Ardley, pointing to a long iron bar near the wall.
Margate’s face turned hard as flint.
“Throw it, then,” he commanded. “Throw it, Ardley, and wipe this cursed sleuth off the earth. It’s only the fate he has invited. Throw it, Ardley, and drown him like a rat in a sewer.”
Nick Carter, listening grimly, heard Ardley stride toward the iron lever.