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Nick frequently had been in Flood’s sumptuously furnished house, where he was known as Badger, and none dreamed of his being a detective, not even Flood himself.

It was about seven o’clock that evening when Nick and Chick approached the gambling-house, and as luck would have it, they encountered Flood just as he was entering.

“Good evening, Mr. Badger,” the gamester said politely, as the three men mounted the steps.

“How are you, Flood?” rejoined Nick. “You remember my friend here, Tom Cory? He was here with me about a month ago.”

“I do not recall his face,” smiled Flood gravely. “Possibly I was absent at the time. Glad to meet you, Mr. Cory. Any gentleman recommended by Mr. Badger is always welcome here. Come in, please.”

And Flood shook Nick by the hand, while the attendant at the street door closed the heavy portal behind them.

Thirty seconds later the clang of the bell silenced the disturbance at the faro table, as previously described, and the three men entered the tiger’s lair.