"How do I know?" Venner hurriedly rejoined, scarce above his breath.

"You heard what he said?"

"Yes, curse him, but I don't swallow it."

"Nor I."

"I can't see into his game."

"That's just my trouble," cried Venner. "Can he have discovered that we recognize him?"

"Impossible! Pylotte is too cunning to have betrayed us in any way."

This was very true, in fact; but Venner himself had blindly done the betraying.

"It doesn't matter, Rufe," Kilgore fiercely added. "We must get them both."

"That's my idea."

"And it's all the easier to get them one at a time."

"Right you are, Dave."

"Has he discovered Pylotte?"

"Surely not!"

"Go back there, then," hissed Kilgore. "Learn what his game is, if you can. Force him to show his hand."

"Leave that to me."

"Waste no time, however, and on no pretext let him leave the house to return to the carriage."

"Not on our lives."

"A warning whistle will start Pylotte, and we'll be on hand to do our part," added Kilgore, hurriedly. "Go back at once, and waste not a moment in getting at his game."

"Trust me, Dave."

"We must land Nick Carter and get him away from here before that running mate of his can make any move against us."

"That's the stuff."

"And then we'll plan to get the other. Away with you!"

These forcible measures were precisely what Nick had felt sure would be adopted by the gang, and were the very steps to which he had so shrewdly planned to force them.

Venner darted softly across the hall and returned to the dining room.

Nick was still examining the diamonds.

He stood near the table, at a point midway between the two open doors.

He had selected this position for a very good reason. He was inviting capture and removal, which he knew must be preceded by an a.s.sault; and he therefore laid himself open from either side, aiming to be put down and out with as little violence as possible.

He wanted all his resources for what he knew was very likely to follow.

Nick was quite as anxious as the gang to force matters, moreover; for at the end of ten minutes, in case he did not return to the carriage, Chick was to begin getting in his work.

Therefore the climax came quickly.

Six minutes had already pa.s.sed.

"Well, sir, what do you think of them?" cried Venner, as he returned to the room.

"The diamonds?" queried Nick, tossing several of them back upon the table.

"Certainly. What else?"

"They are all right, Mr. Venner."

"I thought you would say so."

"Yes, indeed. They are all right--for what they are!"

"For what they are?"

"Precisely."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do?" snarled Venner, inquiringly, with his frowning eyes shrinking from Nick's steadfast gaze.

"Certainly you do," declared Nick. "These diamonds are imitations, not natural stones. They are the most perfect and marvelous artificial diamonds ever made.

"Artificial!" cried Venner, now drawing back. "You are mad, sir! Why, man, you are away off the track!"

"Oh, no, I'm not."

"You are!"

"Not off the track at all, but very squarely on it," Nick now retorted, speaking in his own sternly resonant tones. "Hark you, Venner, I am the one to ask the meaning of this, not you!"

Venner's hand went stealing toward his hip pocket.

"So you are showing your true colors, are you?" he cried, with threatening significance. "By Heaven, you are no Hindoo!"

"That's right, Venner, I am not," said Nick, quickly throwing off the loose robe that hid his own apparel, fearing it might impede his movements. "I am no Hindoo, but am--"