Nick deftly removed his disguise with the last and tossed it upon the table.
Kate Crandall shrank slightly, with brows knitting to a quick frown over her darkly glowing eyes. Her pallid face took on a look of scorn, of bitter hatred, but she replied, without stirring from her chair:
“Oh, it is you, Nick Carter, is it?[Pg 25]”
“I thought you would remember me,” said Nick dryly. “It is some little time since we met.”
“Not nearly as long as I would have wished,” snapped the woman. “I have no love for you, Carter, and well you know it. What’s the meaning of this masquerade, anyway? Are you out again to make trouble for me? Haven’t you done enough before?”
“All the troubles you have had, Miss Crandall, you made for yourself,” Nick retorted. “As for masquerading, why have you been posing under a fictitious name here and while in the employ of Madden, Mellen & Mack?”
“Because you made my own name notorious,” Kate informed him, with bitter asperity. “I could not get employment under my own name. A woman must live decently—though infernal meddlers like you make it next to impossible. What do you want here, anyway?”
“You know what I want,” Nick said, more sternly. “I want to know what you and your confederates have done with John Madden’s little daughter, Amy Madden.”
“Done with her? I don’t get you,” Kate declared. “What do you mean by—done with her?”
“You know what I mean. You abducted her.”