The effect was almost the same as if he were inside the saloon. Strangely enough, also, it was Madge's voice that came to him first, for it appeared that she was seated near that very door, and by the answers that were returned to her, Nick knew that no less a person than Mike Grinnel himself was her companion. And they were speaking in low tones, but, nevertheless, every word they uttered could be heard distinctly by the detective.
It was in the midst of their conversation, evidently, that Nick began to listen, and Madge was saying:
"I swore then, Mike, that I would be even with him, and that if I ever succeeded in getting out of that prison where he put me I would never rest another minute until Nick Carter was placed beyond the power of injuring anybody."
"You bit off a little more than you could chew, didn't you, Madge?" asked Mike Grinnel, in his slow, even voice, in which he never permitted a sign of emotion.
"No, I didn't," she retorted. "I made some mistakes, maybe. I shouldn't, for instance, have written him the letter I did."
"What was the letter, Madge?"
"Like a fool I wrote him a threatening letter, in which I told him to look out for me. That was my vanity, I suppose. I wanted him to know that I was on his track. I wanted to worry him; to give him something to think of, and a lot of things to look out for."
"Well, what then, Madge?"
"It was then, Mike, that I began to get the guns together, Slippery Al, and Gentleman Jim, and the others, and, of course, I made this place our headquarters."
"That, Madge, is just what you shouldn't have done. That's what I'm finding fault with you about now.