ut we at once saw the way to something
much more profitable, a game for making millions out of Pylotte's great
discovery."

"Right again, Dave."

"So we told them about it, and found them willing," continued Kilgore.
"We rung them into our gang, and planned the whole deal. We knew it
would be dead easy to work off such clever stones for genuine goods.
With plenty of such sparks on hand, and one big and reputable jeweler to
help us work the market, the distribution of our goods and their
substitution for genuine stones would quickly throw a cool million or
two our way."

"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 an