"Nick Carter," she exclaimed, laughing scornfully, "you are not a good liar."
"I never lie," replied Nick.
"Well," she said, "I will speak my little piece, now that you are through. You are here, and there are two locked doors between you and the street, and there are between twenty and thirty men in this room now who would rather be killed than let you escape if they knew you were here. I might as well confess to you that eight of those men belong to me. That is, they obey my orders. Now, what are you going to do about it?"
"I think," replied Nick quietly, and smiling back at her, "that, with your permission, I will order another round of drinks."
She pushed back her chair petulantly from the table, and half started to rise from it, but Nick Carter's voice, low, but sharp, halted her.
"Stop, Madge," he said; "keep your seat. This thing has gone too far for either of us to attempt to fool the other. You might as well understand that if there is to be any row precipitated, I will do the precipitating."
She blazed her eyes at him for an instant, and then parted her lips with the evident intention of shouting out his identity. And, while he did not move to prevent her from doing so, the steady gaze of his eyes somehow overcame her, and she closed them again without making a sound.
"That is better, Madge," he said. "This is a case of diamond cut diamond, only for the moment my diamond is a little harder and sharper than your own. Take my advice, and sit where you are."
Curly and Chick had both been absorbed spectators and listeners to this little scene between the detective and Black Madge.
Chick had, of course, made himself ready at any instant to act, no matter what sort of action might be required.