Nick glanced about the room. There seemed to be no way out except by the door at which he had entered. The woman noticed his scrutiny of the place, and said:
“Oh, we have taken good care that you shall not slip us again. Even if you could get out of the room, you would be killed in the street. Our men are warned, and are anxious to dispose of you.”
“It seems to me,” said Nick, “that I have heard talk something like that before, and in this case, too. Is it the habit of the syndicate to explain its plans to prisoners who are condemned to death? You appear to me to be quite frank in your statements.”
“The chief made a mistake in talking to you last night, or this morning, rather,” replied the woman. “It made us no end of trouble to-day.”
The woman arose and walked to the window. To the detective she seemed to be getting nervous.
“Do you know,” said Nick presently, “that I think you are putting up a bluff, and that you are talking against time? Is Mantelle late?”
“He’ll be here,” was the reply.
“It would be something of a consolation to me,” said Nick, “to know just how you managed to scatter the news of my capture. The others were gone when we left the hotel, before you suspected me, and you have talked with no one since we started.”
The woman laughed heartily.