"What kind of a game are you playing now, Madge?" asked Curly, after he had motioned to the waiter to approach; and then, pausing long enough to give the order, he added: "Last I heard of you you were behind the mosquito bars resting up a bit."
Madge laughed again. She seemed to be full of laughter to-night, but it was an uneasy, imperfect, and significant sort of laughter that Nick Carter had heard from her lips before, and which he, therefore, understood. He realized, now, that it was important that he should proceed with great caution.
"Oh, yes," she said. "Nick Carter did that for me. But I'm out again, just the same, and now my lay is to get square with Nick Carter."
"You don't say so," said Curly, shifting uneasily in his chair, and forgetting himself so far as to cast one furtive glance in the direction of the detective. "What are you going to do to him?"
"Ask me that after I've got him where I want him," replied Madge, fixing her bold eyes full upon Nick Carter's face; and then, slowly removing them, and swinging her body half around until she again faced Curly, she added insinuatingly:
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Curly?"
Curly shook his shoulders. He was on safe ground, now, ground where he felt perfectly at home; for it was never necessary to indulge in introductions in that walk of life, not even when they were asked for, but he replied:
"Sure, Madge. These are my two friends, and I guess that'll be about enough. You can call them by any name you want to, and they'll both answer you."
"Under cover?" she asked.
"A little," admitted Curly.