"No, I don't know her. But I know her name. Name's Mary—thash wha' it is. Mary—Mary—hic!"
Even yet the two were not suspicious, and Ned still joked.
"Mary Hick! That's a queer name," he chuckled.
"Not Mary Hick—no!" mumbled the half-drunken guard. "Not Mary Hick—Mary Nestor. Thash who Barton's goin' marry—Mary Nestor—fine girl—Mary—hic!"
"What's that?" cried Tom Swift, hardly able to believe his ears. "You dirty scoundrel, don't you mention her name again! What do you mean bringing her into this conversation? What has she to do with that sap, Floyd Barton?"
"He's sap aw right—sure!" agreed the drunken fellow. "But he's got money. Goin' to marry fine girl—Mary—hic—no, not Mary Hick—thash wrong—Mary Nestor!"
Tom could restrain himself no longer. He stepped back, raised his fist and was going to let it drive full into the face of the guard when a sudden interruption came.
A man with a black handkerchief over the lower part of his face had entered the stone room, and, as Tom was about to fell the insulting guard, stepped between the two.
"You rotten beast!" Tom hissed.
He was suddenly pulled back by the masked man and swung to one side. But Tom's blood was up. Nothing could stop him now.