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With Links of Steel

<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> <h3>HANDS SHOWED DOWN.</h3> Spotty Dalton stood at the door of the open carriage when Nick and Chick emerged from the house, still clad in the character of Hindoos. "Are you sent here by Mr. Venner?" inquired Nick. Dalton touched the cloth cap drawn low over his brow, and stroked his dark, false beard as he replied: "Yes, sir," said he, half in his throat. "You're the interpreter, I take it." "At your service." "I'm a bit late, but it couldn't be helped. We'll not be long in getting there." "Time does not matter to the great Pandu Singe," replied Nick, as he followed Chick into the open landau. "The night is still long." "It'll be infernally long for you two meddlers," Dalton grimly said to himself, as he banged the carriage door and mounted to the box. Then they rolled rapidly away toward a northern suburb of the city. The dusk of evening was already deepening to darkness, a gloom more noticeable far up in the heavens than among the myriad of lights in the city streets. For not a star was visible in the murky sky, and away in the west huge banks of inky clouds were sweeping up toward the zenith, indicating the rapid approach of a sudden storm. "Do you think it is going to rain, driver?" called Nick, from the rear seat of the carriage. "Not soon," Dalton turned to answer; and then he added with grim significance, which he did not dream would be appreciated: "Whether it rains or not, you'll be brought back home in a closed carriage." "It's my private opinion that the boot will be on the other leg," thought Nick, smiling faintly at the scoundrel's grim levity. For Dalton had implied that Nick would be brought back in a hearse. From that time but few words were spoken during the ride, though the detectives occasionally passed a remark in their meaningless lingo, merely to keep up appearances. At eight o'clock they had left the throbbing body of the city behind them, and at half-past eight they were speeding along the deserted suburban road leading to Venner's rather isolated homestead. Only the yellow glare of an incandescent lamp here and there now relieved the terrestrial gloom, but across the distant heavens intermittent flashes of light, followed by the low, sullen roll of thunder, told of the approaching storm. Soon the lighted windows of Venner's house came into view through the woodland, and Nick now murmured softly to Chick: "If I fail to rejoin you in ten minutes, you will know what to do." "You bet!" whispered Chick. "Trust me to do it, too!" "Here we are, sirs," cried Dalton, as he pulled up at the gate of the gravel walk. "You can go right in, while I wait to look after my horses." Chick—as Pandu Singe—pretended to give Nick a brief command, and Nick alone sprang out upon the sidewalk. "Wait here, driver," said he, curtly. "I will return for Pandu Singe in a few minutes." Dalton instantly became suspicious. "What's that for?" he abruptly demanded. "Why doesn't his nibs go in with you now?" "It is for me to obey the great Pandu Singe, not question his commands," replied Nick, with an air of offended dignity. "I shall return for him when I have followed his instructions." "Hold on a bit! I want to know—" But Nick had already turned, and was striding up the long gravel walk leading to the front door of the house. Dalton then swung round and began to address Chick, who quickly signified that he could not understand; whereupon the puzzled scoundrel remained doubtfully on the box, growling under his breath, and quite at a loss just what he should do. Chick was now counting the seconds and minutes, until he should arrive at ten. Venner, who was waiting with the gang in the house, heard Nick's step on the wooden veranda, and he hastened to admit him. "What's this!" he at once exclaimed, starting. "Where is your master? You did not come here alone!" "No, not alone," replied Nick, entering the hall. "Pandu Singe waits in the carriage." "Waits in the carriage! For what?" "He fears the storm may break." "Fears the storm!" exclaimed Venner, with a blaze of suspicion leaping up in his dark eyes. "Surely, then, he will not remain out there." "You don't understand," coolly answered Nick, quickly sizing up everything in view. "Don't understand?" "Pandu Singe thinks of returning home before the storm shall break. He has first sent me in to see the diamonds, as I know just what he wants. If I think well of them, I am to return to the carriage and bring him in to see them." "Oh, that's it, eh?" cried Venner, with unabated misgivings. "Am I to see the stones?" demanded Nick. "Pandu Singe will not care to wait long." "Yes, yes," replied Venner, as perplexed as Dalton by Nick's unexpected move. "Come out this way, where I have them ready to show you." Nick bowed and followed him through the hall, and a glance into the two front rooms, both of which were well lighted, told him they were vacant. Nick knew that he was entering a trap, however, and possibly carried his life in his hand. Yet he had several shrewd designs in the plan of operations adopted. He aimed to prevent both Chick and himself being cornered, and possibly caught at the same time. Not wishing to evade this gang, and thus reveal his own knowledge and suspicions, he designed to leave Chick free to act in case of his own downfall. Nick knew that he alone could force Venner and the gang to show their hands, even if it resulted in his own capture. He rather invited the latter, in fact, for he knew that the gang would see the need of instantly removing him from Venner's house, at least until they could lay hands upon Chick. In this case Nick believed that they might be compelled to confine him at their diamond plant, the location of which he thus hoped to discover. For these reasons Nick was coolly taking very long chances, at the same time leaving Chick free to quickly get in his work, in case he himself went down at the outset. Yet there was not a sign of any person save Venner, as Nick followed him through the hall and into a side room near the rear of the house, evidently a dining room. Nick sized it up with a glance. Electric chandelier; two doors, one by which he had entered from the hall, and the other leading into a dark kitchen; two windows, with the curtains closely drawn; several chairs, a handsome sideboard, and in the middle of the room a large, square table, covered with a rich damask cloth hanging nearly to the floor. Upon the table was also spread a piece of black velvet, on which was displayed nearly a score of blazing diamonds—the most magnificent artificial stones ever born of man's restless genius. Nick rightly guessed their true character, yet he allowed an ejaculation of admiration to escape him. "Ah! Magnificent!" "Look them over," cried Venner, with a swift scrutiny of Nick's swarthy features. "You'll excuse me for a minute or two. I wish to make sure that my rear windows and doors are locked. Such gems are a terrible temptation to thieves." "True, sir," bowed Nick. "Take your time. Meanwhile I'll examine the diamonds. They are splendid! magnificent!" Nick rightly guessed that Venner wished to consult some of the gang. He saw that his entering the house without Chick had thrown their plans badly out of gear, as he had designed for it to do. Venner went into the dark kitchen, rattled a doorknob merely for a bluff, then crossed the hall and entered the library, closing the door behind him. The room was but dimly lighted, and on the floor stood Dave Kilgore and Matthew Stall, each with a drawn revolver. "What's the meaning of this, Rufe?" Kilgore instantly demanded, in passionate whispers. "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 assault; 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 passed. "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—" "Nick Carter!" "Exactly!" "So this is your game, is it?" Venner fiercely began. "If you think—" "Stop right there, Venner," Nick sternly commanded. "Speaking of games, I am here to discover what sort of a rascally game you and this Kilgore gang are playing. I have learned enough to show me that you are a knave and a—" "By heavens, Carter—" "Stop!" thundered Nick. "Don't pull a gun! If you do, I'll end your—" But he got no further, for there the climax came. A single sharp whistle sounded from the kitchen. Instantly Nick felt a rope noose jerked taut around his ankles, nearly throwing him from his feet. From beneath the table, the hanging cover of which had effectually concealed him, Jean Pylotte had managed to adjust the noose upon the floor about Nick's legs. At the signal given him, he had quickly drawn it taut. At the same moment Kilgore and Matt Stall leaped upon Nick from the kitchen and hall doors, bearing him heavily to the floor, while Venner ran to clap a revolver to the detective's head. "Hang to his feet, Pylotte," cried Kilgore, fiercely. "I've got 'em fast," shouted the diamond maker, from under the table. "Quit, Carter, or I'll blow your brains out," commanded Venner, with his pistol at Nick's head. Nick had been making a great bluff at putting up an ugly fight, but now he very agreeably subsided. The affair was going precisely as he desired, yet for the sake of appearances he angrily snarled: "Let up, you dogs! So this is your game, is it? Turn that gun another way, Venner, you miscreant! It might go off, and I'm not fool enough to invite its contents. This dirty game that you've played—" "Dry up!" Kilgore sharply interrupted, while he and Stall quickly secured Nick's arms with a rope. "You'll not live to know the game that we have played, Nick Carter." "Won't I?" "Not if I live!" cried Kilgore, with vicious significance. "Well, maybe you'll not live long," retorted Nick. "I'll close that saucy trap of yours, at all events," sneered Kilgore. "Give me that gag, Matt—quick." Nick no longer resisted. A glance at the clock on the mantel told him that nearly ten minutes had passed since he left Chick. He suffered himself to be gagged, then raised to his feet, from which Pylotte now cast the line and emerged from under the table. Nick bestowed one look upon him, from which the rascal shrank and shuddered. Kilgore now turned quickly to Venner, and hurriedly cried: "You remain here, Rufe, and leave us to dispose of this fellow. We'll run him over yonder, and return as quickly as possible. It's not safe to keep him here until we have landed his running mate." "But—" "Don't stop for buts!" cried Kilgore, fiercely. "Go see if you can sight Chick Carter. If he is still in the carriage, we are all right up to now. In six or eight minutes go down there and give him to understand that his interpreter wants him to come in here. Before you reach this room with him, we three will be back to help you turn him down. Do you understand?" "Sure!" cried Venner, thrusting his weapon back in his pocket. "He cannot suspect that we have recognized Nick, and he'll come in, all right." "Go, then! We'll be back here in six minutes." Venner hastened to one of the front windows of the house and peered out toward the street. At that moment a flash of lightning, followed by the nearer roll of thunder, dispelled for an instant the intense gloom of the night. A growl of profound satisfaction broke from Venner while he gazed, and he muttered exultingly: "By Heaven! we're all right! He's waiting in the carriage, and Dalton is still on the box!" Nick was being pushed out of a back door of the house, meantime, and then across the lawn and through the dark stable. The ruffians who were hurrying him away did not stop there, however. Pylotte ran on ahead, while Kilgore and Matt Stall continued urging the detective across the grounds, making toward the old wooden mansion in which their secret plant was located. It seemed to them the safest place in which to confine Nick, pending the delay in getting hands upon Chick. Presently they came to a dry ditch, walled at each side, and originally built for draining the low meadows between the two estates. Into this they plunged, following it until they arrived near a wooden bulkhead in the foundation wall of the house. This was the secret way of entering, to which Cervera had referred the previous night. Pylotte already had opened it, and Nick was quickly forced through a dark cellar. "All right," cried Kilgore. "Let us in." Instantly the secret stone door was thrown open, and Nick was nearly blinded by the flood of light in the room into which he was abruptly thrust. He stood in the subterranean chamber of the diamond plant. And there, erect on the floor, with her evil countenance a picture of malicious triumph, stood his crafty combatant of the previous night—Sanetta Cervera. "Caramba!" she cried, shrilly, with a vicious laugh. "So you've got him! Well done, Dave! Well done!" "Yes, and we'll presently have the other," cried Kilgore, panting hard after his exertions. "Good for you, Dave," screamed Cervera, exultingly. "But this is the one I want most—this is the one!" "Look lively, Matt. Lend a hand here, and we'll bind him to yonder chair." "And leave Cervera to guard him, eh?" "That's the stuff." "Can she do it?" "Can she!" growled Kilgore, with derisive vehemence. "You let her alone for that." "Yes, yes, let me alone for that!" "We must get back to stand by Venner. That Chick Carter is nearly as tough a customer as this fellow." "I guess you'll find that that's no dream," said Nick to himself, as the ruffians bound him to the chair mentioned. Cervera was laughing and capering around as if about to have a fit—yet her laugh had a terrible and chilling ring. "Oh, yes, I'll guard him, Dave," she shrilly cried, with a frightful menace in her strained voice. "Caramba, yes! let me alone for that." "So I do," snarled Kilgore. "Knot the line fast, Matt—make sure of that," the woman fiercely added. "Yes, I'll keep him quiet—never doubt that, boys! He shall be like a baby taking milk. Perdition! but you shall have a sweet time, Mr. Nick, alone here with Sanetta Cervera!" Kilgore paid but little attention to any of this, and only now and then bestowed a glance upon the vicious woman. Within a minute after their arrival at the plant, the gang had Nick securely bound to a common wooden chair, when they condescended to remove the gag from his mouth. "He may shout himself hoarse here, if he likes," growled Kilgore. "There will be none to hear him." Then he hurried Pylotte and Matt Stall back to the Venner house, to land Chick Carter. Left alone with Nick, Cervera darted to the stone door in the solid wall, and secured it within. There was murder in her glittering eyes when she shot the heavy bolts into their iron sockets. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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