"Welcome to our city, Prescott," he laughed.
Dick's first discovery was that the gag was gone from his mouth. He made an effort to use his hands, but discovered that these were more securely tied than ever.
"I hope you'll enjoy this little visit with us," laughed Dexter, changing his voice, which now sounded almost pleasant.
"I'd enjoy it a lot more," retorted Dick dryly, "if I had my chums here with me."
"I, too, wish we had them here," nodded Dexter. "But they'd be tied up, just as you are. You don't seem a bit curious as to why you're here."
"No," Dick admitted.
"Marvelous youth, in whom the instinct of curiosity is dead!"
"Whatever your game in bringing me here, I can guess that it's one that wouldn't interest honest men."
"Oh, you're going to turn 'fresh,' are you?"
Dick did not reply. Dexter drew a cigar out from a vest pocket, as he stood leaning against a decaying mantel, and lighted it. This imitation of a man smoked in silence for a few moments, during which Prescott did not offer to speak.