o the
building in the disguise of an old man, for the purpose of
investigating.

How the investigation came out the reader has been already informed.

The report of pistols had warned Harry Bernard, the boy Paul Ender,
and two officers in their company, that something of an interesting
nature was going on in the basement of the Scarlet block.

"Dyke is in difficulty, that is sure," cried Harry, in an excited
voice. "We must get inside at once."

They tried the side door, to find it locked. It was through this door
that they had seen the bold detective disappear, and it was in the
same direction that the four men proposed to go in search of their
daring friend.

The room was in darkness, but Paul soon had the rays of a dark lantern
flashing about the place.

"Let us move with caution," said Harry, taking the lead, and entering
the hall through the doorway which Ruggles, in his hasty flight, had
left open. Soon voices greeted them from the basement, and a light
glimmered through a half-open door at the head of the stairs.

"If we could only put him under down here," said a voice, which the
reader will recognize as that of Nick Brower, the villainous
accomplice of Professor Ruggles from the opening of our story.

"Wal, I reckin we kin," said the villainous companion of Brower. As he
spoke, he went to the side of the fallen man-hunter, and placed the
point of a knife against his throat.

"What now, pard?

"Dead men tell no tales, Nick."

"True. Send it home---"

SPANG!

The sharp report of a revolver wake the echoes once more. The knife
dropped from the nerveless grasp of the would-be assassin, and with a
howl of pain he began dancing an Irish jig on the stone floor of the
cellar.

Nick Brower whirled instantly, snatched a revolver from his hip, to
find that four glittering bulldogs confronted him from the stairs.

"Drop that weapon, or we will drop you!" thundered Harry Bernard in a
stern voice.

"Trapped!" cried Brower, in a despairing voice.

Then the four men moved down into the cellar and secured Brower and
his companion.

"We have made a good haul," said one of the police officers who
accompanied Bernard and Paul, who recognized in Brower an old
offender.

Harry Bernard bent quickly and anxiously over the prostrate detective.

"My soul!" uttered the young man, "the villains have killed poor
Darrel, I do believe."

But the young man's belief was unfounded, since some time later Dyke
Darre