Even as he did so, from out of the gloom of the adjoining cellar, a man came into view, as if suddenly arisen from the ground.

The man was Dave Kilgore.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE LAST TRICK.

“Carter!”

“Kilgore!”

Each man uttered the name of the other, as if with the same breath.  The meeting came so suddenly that, for the bare fraction of a second, both men were nonplused.

Then both whipped out a weapon.

Crack!

Bang!

They fired together, and both missed, Nick’s usually accurate aim being spoiled by the gloom of the cellar.

Kilgore instantly sprang further away in the darkness, and aimed again.

The hammer of his weapon fell as usual, but there was no report.  In his recent fight at the Venner house he had emptied both of his revolvers, save the one bullet that had just missed Nick Carter.

Then Kilgore, failing to have found Nick at his mercy, thought only of making his own escape.  He turned and ran toward the open door by which he had entered.

At that moment Chick’s ringing voice sounded from outside.

“This way! this way, Patsy!” he cried, louder than the rolling thunder overhead.  “I’ve found the rat hole!”

“I’m with you,” yelled Patsy.

They were already at the door.

By the frequent flashes of lightning they had, after the fight at Venner’s, succeeded in following Kilgore across the meadows, and they well knew that he was headed to get even with Nick.

Now Nick’s voice rang through the cellar.

“Look out for him, Chick,” he commanded.  “He’s coming that way.  Look out for his gun.”

“Hurrah!” roared Chick, the moment he heard Nick’s voice.  “Let him come, gun and all!”

Kilgore saw his flight cut off in that direction, but he knew every inch of the house.  He turned like a rat in the darkness, and made for the stairs leading to the floor above.  Up these he hurriedly scrambled.

Nick heard him through the gloom, and followed him, pitching headlong at the foot of the stairs just as Kilgore opened the door leading to the hall above.

There the dim rays from a hall lamp revealed the man for an instant, and showed Nick the way.  He was up again and after Kilgore like a hound after a fox.

Kilgore dashed through the hall, but dared not take time to unlock and open the front door of the house.  He had a profound respect for the revolver in the hand of his pursuer, who already had reached the hall.

It was a flight for life, and Kilgore knew it.

He turned like a flash and darted up the stairs, making for the second floor.  Three at a stride he covered, and succeeded in reaching the corridor above before Nick could get a line on him.

Nick followed, gun in hand.

On the second floor Kilgore darted into a dark chamber, and then through that to one adjoining it, where he waited till he heard Nick plunging into the one first mentioned.