"Well, I guess she's been in most every night for the last week."
"Do you know where she lives?"
"No."
"Do you know any of the gang that is traveling with her?"
"Yes; I guess I know most of that bunch."
"Well, Phil, I want you to tell me their names; every one of them. That is, every one that you are certain forms one of her gang."
"There ain't anything certain about it, Carter. I'll tell you that on the level. All I know about her and her gang is guesswork. But if I was asked to mention them I should say that, judging from appearance, there is about eight of them. Besides, Madge has got something up her sleeve, but what it is I haven't an idea. It looks to me, though, as if they were getting ready to crack some pretty big crib, and make the haul of their lives. Now, if you're on to that lay, and your only purpose is to prevent them doing it, so that I ain't telling you anything that will go for putting them behind the bars, I will be on the level and tell you all I know."
"You will have to tell me, anyhow, Phil," returned Nick quietly. "If you don't do it willingly, I know of more than one way to compel you to do it. However, you may rest easy upon the point you have made. I am not at the present moment seeking to put any of them behind the bars; only Black Madge herself. She has got to go there, whether you talk to me or not."
"Well," said the bartender, "she don't cut any ice with me, anyhow. She's too stuck up for my kind."
"All right," said Nick; "tell me the names of those eight men."