hese
boards, and, although around it there was no other evidence of a door,
he knew that if he could turn the tumblers in that lock it would be
revealed to him.

He went to work with his picklock, and, as he supposed, the instant the
bolt of the lock was shot back the door opened easily and noiselessly in
his grasp, and from beyond it he could at once hear the murmur of
distant voices; also very far ahead of him, and beneath what was
evidently another door, he could perceive a gleam of light.

He stepped through, and closed it after him, but, realizing that it was
more than likely that he might wish to leave in a hurry, he left it
unlocked.

And now he tiptoed forward to the door beneath which the light shone,
and, getting upon his hands and knees, held his ear down where he could
hear with more distinctness.

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 wit