could go on in quiet security if
Merton were out of the way. That was the reason why Merton was
murdered."

Hunt threw the remains of his cigar into the fireplace, and slipped
the hand that had held it down into the pillows of the davenport.

"And you think you have at last located this man Atwood do you, Mr.
Marsh?"

"Yes," returned Marsh, calmly, "because I have absolute proof that
CLARK ATWOOD AND GILBERT HUNT ARE ONE AND THE SAME MAN!"

Instantly Hunt's hand whipped out from behind the sofa cushions, and
the three detectives found themselves covered by an automatic as
Hunt stood up.

"Clever work, gentlemen," he said, smiling. "But after leading men
of your type around by the nose for many years, you can hardly
expect me to stay here and calmly accept defeat now."

"Oh, no," answered Marsh. "We fully expected you to put up a good
fight." He slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, and crossing
his legs, leaned back, smiling up at Hunt. "Go ahead; what's your
next move?"

"My next move," cried Hunt, sharply, "is to leave you damn fools
sitting right there. When I didn't hear from my men this afternoon I
knew that something was wrong, and my way of escape is ready."

He backed slowly toward the door, keeping the detectives covered
with his automatic. When he reached the door of the room, he called,
"Everything ready, George?"

"Yes, sir," a voice replied from the distance.

Hunt again addressed the detectives. "I advise you gentlemen to stay
quietly where you are for a few minutes. I am going out of the back
door of this apartment, and you, will find it difficult to find YOUR
way through in the dark--especially as you may meet a shot at any
moment. I bid you good evening, gentlemen."

With that, Hunt backed out of sight through the doorway and all was
silent. Immediately, Morgan and Tierney leaped to their feet and
dashed toward the door.

"Hold on!" exclaimed Marsh, still sitting quietly in his chair,
"Where are you going?"

The two detectives stopped in astonishment.

"We're going to get him!" shouted Tierney.

"No need of taking all that trouble," returned Marsh. "My men are
ready for him. Long ago a Secret Service man even replaced his
driver at the wheel of his car."

As if in answer to this statement from Marsh, there was a distant
fusillade of shots.

"They've got him," said Marsh, rising. "Now we can go."

"If there's no hurry now," said Morgan, "I wish you would tell us
the rest o