“You don’t mean to tell me that you were in that house against your will?”
“That’s it exactly.”
“And you don’t know who Nora is?”
“I do not.”
Later in the day Margie, now fully recovered from the shock, was able to sit up, and an officer came to see her.
“The man I want to see is Mr. Carter, the detective. I will talk to him,” said the girl, and they telephoned for the detective.
In a short time the answer came back that the detective could not be found, and Margie adhered to her declaration that she would talk to no one but him.
Meantime Carter, whom we left in the corridor of the tall building with a revolver at his head, had had an adventure of his own.
Eager to discover something about the man who had lost a card in Mother Flintstone’s den, he had made his way to the building, only to reach the third floor, where he was met by a man who covered him and told him that another step would seal his doom.
The detective had not bargained for an adventure of this kind, and the threat took him unawares. He could see the well-built figure of the speaker, though it was not too well revealed, but the man’s face seemed to be half concealed by a mask.