“Dead easy, Dave.”

“But we decided that New York was the best field for such a gigantic enterprise,” added Kilgore.  “So we came here.  With the help of Cervera, we got our grip on Venner, and then on his avaricious partner, Garside, whose business happened to be on its last legs.  So they snapped like hungry fish at this chance to square themselves, by secretly swindling their own customers, and shoving our manufactured diamonds upon the entire market.”

“Like hungry fish—­h’m! that’s no name for it,” cried Matt Stall, with a mingled growl and laugh.  “Rufe Venner was as ready to become a knave as any covey I ever crossed.”

“So we established this plant for Pylotte to do his clever work in,” continued Kilgore, disregarding the interruption.  “Luckily, Venner already owned this old mansion, as well as that in which he lives; and fortunately, both places are somewhat secluded, with extensive grounds abutting.  That enabled us to frame up a very snug and safe retreat.”

“Sure it did.”

“So we went to work,” Kilgore proceeded, discursively.  “We built our plant, placed our machinery, rigged a private telephone between this house and Venner’s, and tapped the electric conduit with a secret wire, to give us light and feed our furnace.”

“That was my work,” nodded Stall, with a touch of pride.

“Right you are, Matt, and mighty good work, too,” bowed Kilgore.  “In a nutshell, boys, after two months’ secret work, we have accomplished all we planned, and now have Venner sliding our goods upon the market at a fabulous profit.  In a single year, barring these infernal Carters, every man of us should be a millionaire.”

“But why this sudden fear of the Carters?” growled Dalton, impatiently.

“I’ll now tell you why,” cried Kilgore, with voice lowered, and an ugly gleam in his frowning eyes.  “We cannot sack Cervera, nor put out her light, for she’s too good and strong a card for us to lose.  But in losing her head over Venner, and jealously doing up that girl to-day, she has given the Carters a clew by which to track us.”

“How so, Dave?” muttered Stall, growing a bit pale.

“Through Venner, of course!” Kilgore forcibly argued.  “Until this job of to-day, Carter has had no definite suspicion of Venner, a possibility which we headed off with that fake robbery.  Now, however, since Cervera must lie low, and Carter knows of her relations with Venner, he will suspect the latter and make him a constant mark, in the hope of landing the girl.”

“By Heaven, that’s so!” snarled Dalton, quickly seeing the point.

“And that’s not the worst of it,” added Kilgore.  “The moment he suspects Venner, Carter will connect him with us, and know that that robbery was a put-up job.  Then he’ll begin to seek us and our game.”

“But how can he locate us?”

“Locate us?” sneered Kilgore, acidly.  “You don’t know Nick Carter!  I’ll tell you, Spotty, he can smell a rat further than any ferret that ever shoved his nose under a miller’s barn.  As sure as death and taxes, Nick Carter will run us down and land us, every mother’s son of us—­unless we can get him, and put him down and out.”