A Woman at Bay: or, A Fiend in Skirts

The next words, while they did not exactly reassure him, made him think that, after all, the bartender might be carrying out his contract by attempting to set Chick at liberty himself.

"Is that where you sent Phil a few moments ago?" she asked. "Down there to the dungeon where you put Chick?"

The detective could hear Grinnel chuckle and then reply:

"Yes, Madge, I sent him down there to fasten the young fellow up, so that there would be no chance of his getting loose. You see, he was senseless when we chucked him in there, and I forgot to make him fast, as a sailor would say, but there are staples in the wall down there, and there are chains fastened to those staples, and there are nice little steel bracelets at the end of those chains, that fit beautifully around a man's ankles. I sent Phil down to lock them fast."

"I thought nobody knew where that place was except yourself," said Madge quickly.

"Oh, Phil's all right. I have to have some confidence in my men here, or I couldn't run the place."

"All the same," the detective heard her murmur, "I'd rather you had left Chick to me. They're a slippery lot, those detectives, and I shall be uneasy – "

The detective heard no more of what was said, for at that instant he was greatly startled by hearing a sound behind him, and evidently beneath him, the consequence being that he paid no further attention to the conversation beyond the door.

Indeed, he drew back away from it, and softly rose to his feet, in order that he might be thoroughly prepared for anything that should happen; and while he stood there he was conscious of a cold, damp draught of air blown into his face – air that smelled as if it might come from the cellar – and he was somehow conscious that a trapdoor had been lifted, while the next moment he was aware that somebody was climbing through it into that narrow hallway – somebody who was not more than ten or twelve feet away from him. How he had wished for his little flash light then.

Once he imagined that he could hear a faint whisper, and a sharp, warning hiss for silence immediately following it.

Then it came back to him suddenly, all that he had heard Mike Grinnel say to Madge about the dungeon in the house, and the bartender's errand to it.

He thought then that the people who had raised themselves through the trap – and he was sure that there were two of them – must be Phil and Chick, the latter having been liberated by the former; and, acting upon the impulse of the moment, he struck a match and held it into the faces of the two men. The glare of the match shone directly into the face of Chick.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

BLACK MADGE CAUGHT IN A TRAP

But the flaring up of the match also developed another rather startling fact, and that was the presence of Curly, who, with the bartender, Phil, was standing directly behind Chick.

The light also discovered Nick Carter to the others, as it discovered them to him, and, although it burned but a moment, it was a revelation to all the parties concerned. It was Phil, the bartender, who acted more quickly than the others in this somewhat confusing moment of the encounter, for, with admirable presence of mind, he stepped quickly forward, and, reaching out his hands, managed to pull the others toward him until their heads were so close together that the faintest whisper could be heard, and then he said:

"Follow me along the corridor into the front hall. We can talk there."

They did so, and presently they stood together in the front hallway beside the stairs beyond the hidden doorway which Nick had discovered. And, during the time they occupied in getting to this point, Nick, who realized that the disguise he wore was no longer of any importance, busily engaged himself in removing it, or, at least, the facial part of it, so that, although in the dark they could not see him, he had restored himself, nevertheless, to his proper person.

"Now, Curly," said the detective, "tell me what this all means. I don't understand it at all."

"Let me talk," interrupted Phil. "It's this way, Carter: When you escaped from the barroom through the little door into the boss' sanctum, you had no sooner gone than Grinnel switched on the lights again, and your absence was discovered. Then it was that the whole bunch lit on to Curly and Chick here, with both feet, downed them, trussed them up, and when Chick was taken to the cellar below, to feed the rats, if he had been left there long enough, Curly was fired along with him. I tell you, right now, Carter, it's all up with Curly in this place. He never can make himself good with this bunch again as long as he lives, and it's up to him to light out now, for good and all, unless he wants to turn up his toes and go to the morgue."

The detective turned to Curly again, and once more struck a match so that they could all see the faces of one another.

"Is that straight, Curly?" he asked.

"That's about the size of it, Mr. Carter."

"Then," said Nick, "am I to understand that the occurrences of this evening have released me from my promise to you to make no arrests in this place, or any arrest of any one who is now in this place within twenty-four hours?"

"Yes, sir, the promise is all off. You can do as you've a mind to. It would suit me to a T if you would gather in the whole push."

"Thank you, Curly," said Nick. "That statement of yours lets me out of a peck of trouble, for having given the promise, of course I would not break it, and I could not quite see how we could carry this thing through to a finish without."

He was silent for a moment after that, and then he asked:

"Can I rely upon you, Curly, to stand by me through what is to come?"

"To the last ditch, Mr. Carter," was the emphatic response.

"And you, Phil – what about you?"

"Well," was the slow reply, for the man was evidently considering his words with very great care, "I guess my usefulness in this place is just about over. When the boss finds out that Curly and Chick have both gotten out of the dungeon below, he will know mighty well who it was that let them out, and that will mean yours truly for the dead wagon in about fifteen minutes; so I think, Carter, that I'd better tie up to you while I've got the chance. I am not a crook myself, and never have been one, although I have consorted with them, and been companions with them for a good many years."

"And will you see the thing through to the finish, Phil?" asked Nick again.

"I will do just as Curly said he would do. I'll stand by you to the last ditch."

"Are you all ready to obey my orders, exactly as I shall give them?" asked Nick again, slowly.

"We are," came the unanimous response.

"In this case," said the detective, "I am going to make a desperate effort to find out what a bold stroke will do, and here is my plan: We will go back together to that door before which I was standing a moment ago, which, I conclude, from its character, is rather a flimsy – "

"It is that," said Phil.

"And after we get there we will stand silently for a moment, each one of you preparing for the signal which I shall give. When I say, 'Now,' I will throw myself against the door, and burst it open, and as I do so, and leap into the room, you three are to follow me, one after the other, as quickly as possible.

"You, Phil, will make directly for the electric switch, and you will see to it, no matter what happens, that the room is not plunged in darkness.

"You, Curly – by the way, have you any weapons about you?"

"I have got two guns in my pocket, all right."

"Very well; you, Curly, the moment you get into the room, will draw your two guns, and level them at the crowd.

"After that all you have to do is to follow the lead of Chick and myself, and protect yourselves until the fight is over – if there is a fight."

"I reckon I can do that, too, Mr. Carter," said Curly.

"I haven't a doubt of it, Curly. I want you to remember not to shoot too quick, and under no circumstances to shoot to kill, unless it is absolutely necessary; as a matter of fact, I don't expect that we will have much trouble, for when they see us in the room, fully armed, and hear the first words that I shall utter, I think we will have no difficulty in carrying our point."

There was nothing more said then, and Nick turned away, and led them quickly back again to the door, near which he had heard the conversation between Black Madge and Mike Grinnel.

For a moment they stood there, waiting to get their breath, and to prepare their muscles and sinews and nerves for the ordeal to which they were about to be put; and then from the detective came a low and emphatic – "Now!"

The instant that the detective shouted out this word, he plunged forward, throwing his shoulder heavily against the flimsy door, already mentioned, so that it was burst from its lock and from its hinges at the same time, and was sent flying halfway across the room.

But even before the clatter which followed the crash had subsided, Nick Carter, with a pistol in either hand, had leaped across the threshold, and with one more bound arrived at the spot directly beside Mike Grinnel.

Turning the weapon about while he approached, he brought the butt of it down, with a resounding whack, upon Grinnel's skull, sending him tumbling to the floor, and then he straightened up, with both arms extended, and the muzzles of his pistols wavering from form to form of the astonished throng in the room, and he cried out:

"Hands up, every one of you. I am here after just one person. The rest of you I don't want, unless somebody interferes with me, and if you do interfere there are enough outside of this house, without doubt, to take you all in."

When he leaped across the threshold, the others followed him, as he had directed, and, having already cautioned Chick in a whisper to look out for Madge, and feeling sure that the others would do their respective duties, as he had directed, Nick had no fear whatever of the result.

A collection of criminals assembled as these were are always glad to hear that there is only one among them who is "wanted," for each one seems instinctively to know that he is not "it." And Nick Carter knew the criminal class so well that he was certain that this announcement would prevent any immediate attack upon him by the twenty or thirty men who were gathered there.

Having heard this statement, and having, also, taken due notice of his suggestion that there were plenty of reënforcements outside the building, although it will be remembered that the detective had not explained how far outside they were, and remembering that a considerable time had elapsed since Nick Carter left that room before, they were one and all willing to wait a moment before beginning what might be an unnecessary attack, which would be sure to send many of them to prison before it was over. And so they waited, casting furtive glances at one another, many of them with their hands upon their weapons, and all of them ready to fight, if need be, but quite as ready to avoid a fight, if it were policy to do so.

"Now, listen to me," said Nick Carter. "I came here to-night to get Black Madge, and I know by the sounds I have heard behind me since I entered the room just now that she has got a pair of bracelets on her that she doesn't like to wear. I am going to take her away with me, and she is going to be sent back to the prison from which she escaped, and if there is anybody in this crowd that interferes with me, or offers to do so, it will be very much the worse for that person.

"On the other hand, if I am not interfered with, we shall go away quietly with Madge, and what the rest of you may do after that does not concern me. You have my word for it, and you all know that when Nick Carter gives his word, he keeps it. Now, answer me, somebody, and let him speak for all. Does what I say go?"

A voice from the far end of the room replied instantly:

"I say it goes, for one."

"Then answer, all of you," said the detective.

"It goes. You bet it goes."

In their eagerness to answer his request, they came near to all shouting at once.

"Thank you," said Nick, smiling. "Now, I have one more word to say, and then we will take our departure. There are eight men here whose names I will call, and I want them each to take this as a warning from me. They are Scar-faced Johnny; a man called Slippery Al; Surly Bob, whose career I know; Gentleman Jim, who, for the good of his health, ought to take a vacation on the other side of the ocean; Joe Cuthbert; Eugene Maxwell; Fly Cummings; and, last, but not least, is the man who is known as The Parson, and that same Parson had better get himself out of New York as quickly as possible.

"I am speaking now to those eight whose names I have mentioned. I know that you have all joined in with an organization created by Black Madge. I know, or think I know, the purpose of that organization. I will give all of you twenty-four hours to get out of the city of New York, and if any one of you is found inside of the limits of the city after that time, look out for squalls."

There was a low murmur around the room following upon this speech by the detective, but whether in protest or approbation, the detective did not concern himself to discover.

With calm deliberation, he turned his back upon them all, and motioned to Chick, who had Madge securely handcuffed to his own wrist, to precede him through the door.

Then he motioned to Curly and to Phil to pass through it also.

And, then, stepping himself to the door, he turned about upon the threshold, and faced the crowd once more.

"One last word to you all," he said. "He among you who hurts Curly John, or Phil, the bartender, for this night's work, or attempts to do so, hurts me. I bid you good night."

It is only necessary to add that, within forty-eight hours of that time, Black Madge found herself again in the prison of that State for which she had expressed such abounding contempt, and that, at her trial, which followed soon after, she was sentenced to serve ten years in the State prison, where she is at this day.

THE END