Nick Carter - Nick Carter at Headquarters

“Who are you, then?”

“I'm myself. Who're you?” Another oath from the men in the water. “Stand up, Rob,” ordered Nick.

“This is Red Rob, not I,” he continued. “I'm from another town where they know how to down the cops every time. If you ever get word from old 'Philly' to look out fur Sneaker, jest tell 'em he's the chap w'at dumped ye into the wet, will you ? So long, boys; better luck next time.”

With a laugh, Nick gave the signal to his two friends, and the boat shot away in the darkness.

Nick would not have left the police in their uncomfortable plight, but he felt certain that they were men of sufficient experience to get out of it all right, and the reader may as well know at once that he was not mistaken.

The boat containing the two detectives and the king of the wharf rats was rowed at once back to the pier from which it had started.

“Here we are,” exclaimed the detective. “Now, Red Rob, show your hand.”

What d'ye mean, Sneaker?”

“We're in the same biz, ain't we?”

“Yes.”

“An' you've got a gang back of you?”

“You bet!”

“I want to join.”

“Good!”

“Will you take us in?”

“Well, I should smile!”

“I've got to keep dark a while.”

“Rather.”

“I popped over four cops, but I guess I didn't kill 'em.”

“I hope not.”

“Why?”

“It makes too much fuss.”

“Oh! I thought you was tender-hearted. ”

“What! Me? Red Rob?”

“Yes.”

“Ask the boys when you see 'em.”

“When'll that be?”

“Now.”

“Where are they?”

“In the Rat-Hole.”

“Where's that?”

“Close by.”

“How do you get there?”

“From here.”

“Well, let's go.”

“I've got ter blindfold you.”

“What, me?”

“Yes.”

“Can't be did, Bobby.”

“It's orders.”

“Bah! I wouldn't be blindfolded for all the ratholes an' all ther orders in the country.”

“S'posen you was chief, Sneaker.”

“Well ?”

“An' you'd given orders that nobody was to be brought in fur the first time 'thout bein' blinded.”

“Well?”

“What would you do if I went ag'in orders?”

“Slit yer wizzen.”

“Exactly. That's jest what Gentleman George'll do, too.”

“Well, I'm cussed ef I'll be blindfolded anyhow.”

Red Rob was silent in perplexity. “Say,” said Nick, suddenly.

“What?”

“Go to the rathole alone. Tell 'em your story. Maybe they'll let the rule go for once.”

“I'll try it.”

“All right. Skip.”

They heard him leave the boat, and a moment later Nick touched the spring of his little lantern.

But Red Rob had already disappeared. “They've got a cute trick here, somewhere,” he muttered. “No blindfolding for me.”

“Worked nice to-night, didn't it?” murmured Chick.

“Sh-h! Somebody may bear you,” replied Nick. “Don't talk, wait.”

Rob was gone near half an hour. But at the end of that time he returned. “It's all right,” he said. “Gentleman George is there himself, and he says I can bring you in.”

“'Thout bein' blindfolded?”

“Yes.”

“Then it's a go.”

“He makes a condition.”

“What?”

“He says if ye can't give a good account of yourselves you'll never come out ag'in.”

“That's O. K.”

“The cops are onto a new lay for us.”

“What is it?”

“He says they've engaged Nick Carter to track us down.”

“Bah!”

“You've heard of him?”

“Yes.”

“He's a devil, that feller!”

“Bah!”

“Mebby you never ran foul of him.”

“Yes, I have.”

“When?”

“A year ago.”

“Where?”

“In old Philly.”

“How?”

“We had a tussle.”

“Honest?”

“Yes, in as barroom.”

“An' you got licked, eh?”

“Not much I didn't.”

“You don't mean to say that you done him up, Sneaker!”

“He grabbed me, and I slatted him onto the floor, then I sloped and left him. That's all. I kin lick that cop any day.”

“Talk's cheap, Sneaker.”

“Don't you believe me?”

“Well, I'd rather see you do it than hear ye tell it.”

“You're purty stout, ain't you?”

“Some.”

“Stick out your two hands.” Nick grasped both the river thief's wrists in one hand and shut his fingers tightly upon them.

“Now break loose,” he said.

Red Rob tried.

He tugged and strained with all his strength, but with no avail.

The one hand of the detective held him so firmly that he could not get loose.

Finally after a vain effort he desisted. “You're a wonder!” he cried. “There ain't another man livin' who could do that.”

“Stick 'em out ag'in.”

“What for?”

“I want to prove that you're a liar.”

“What!”

“No offense, Robby. I know another man w'at kin do the same thing.”

“Where is he?”

“Here.”

“What, Rattler?”

“Yes.”

“I don't believe it.”

“Try it.”

Again Red Rob put out his hands in the same manner as before.

This time it was Chick—Young Hercules- who seized them.

He held them just as Nick had done. Struggle as he might, the river thief could not break loose.

“Well, I'm blowed!” he ejaculated when he saw that it was no use.

“You see there's two of us,” laughed Sneaker.

“Yes.”

“And Nick Carter ain't in it.”

“Not much he ain't.”

“When are ye goin' ter take us to the Rat- Hole? To-morrer?”

“No, now.”

“Well, we're ready.”

“Come on, then. Where's that light ye had.”

“Here.”

“Touch it up again so I kin show ye the way.”

The light blazed forth, and the two detectives saw Red Rob seize what appeared to be a protruding knot in one of the timbers and pull upon it.

Instantly a large section of the timber swung loose, working upon concealed hinges, and revealing an opening through which he motioned the two detectives to follow.

The aperture was so small that they were obliged to crawl through, but they found themselves inside the adjoining crib which they traversed, and then passed on to the next in the same manner.

Thus they made their way past all the cribs until the shore was reached.

There the inroads of the waters had been prevented by the erection of a face wall, and from this, by working another secret mechanism, a huge stone was made to swing in out of sight, and they crawled through into a narrow gallery which had been dug out of the solid earth.

Red Rob, after closing the entrance again, took the lead. He preceded them up a steep incline, and at length halted before an iron-bound door upon which he rapped loudly.

The next instant the door flew open, and they passed through into a chamber, created after the same manner as the gallery they had just traversed.

They found themselves in the presence of a dozen men, each of whom wore some sort of protecting mask over his face, evidently improvised for the occasion.

They knew they were in the presence of the gang of river pirates and that the trying moment had come.

The men who were assembled in the Rat-Hole were evidently expecting the arrival of their guests, for they had every appearance of readiness to receive them.

“Gents,” said Red Rob, when the iron bound door was closed and securely fastened, “'low me ter interdooce my friends, Sneaker an' Rattler, from Quakertown.”

A man who had been seated in the background stepped forward when Red Rob ceased speaking.