“No, never.” “Well, well, I must be mistaken, then.” “You certainly are, sir, if you think I know anything about such persons. I am all in the dark as to your meaning.” “Possibly, Miss Crandall.” “Randall, sir.” “I said Crandall--and that is your name,” Nick insisted. “Furthermore, since I am not inclined to mince matters, I will inform you that my name is not Henderson Black. You will readily remember it, I think, if I remove these slight adornments.” Nick deftly removed his disguise with the last and tossed it upon the table. Kate Crandall shrank slightly, with brows knitting to a quick frown over her darkly glowing eyes. Her pallid face took on a look of scorn, of bitter hatred, but she replied, without stirring from her chair: “Oh, it is you, Nick Carter, is it?” “I thought you would remember me,” said Nick dryly. “It is some little time since we met.” “Not nearly as long as I would have wished,” snapped the woman. “I have no love for you, Carter, and well you know it. What’s the meaning of this masquerade, anyway? Are you out again to make trouble for me? Haven’t you done enough before?” “All the troubles you have had, Miss Crandall, you made for yourself,” Nick retorted. “As for masquerading, why have you been posing under a fictitious name here and while in the employ of Madden, Mellen & Mack?” “Because you made my own name notorious,” Kate informed him, with bitter asperity. “I could not get employment under my own name. A woman must live decently--though infernal meddlers like you make it next to impossible. What do you want here, anyway?” “You know what I want,” Nick said, more sternly. “I want to know what you and your confederates have done with John Madden’s little daughter, Amy Madden.” “Done with her? I don’t get you,” Kate declared. “What do you mean by--done with her?” “You know what I mean. You abducted her.” “Abducted nothing!” snapped Kate. “I don’t know what you are talking about. If you are out to frame me up in a job of that kind, Carter, you have bit off more than you can chew. I can prove----” “Disprove is what you will have to do,” Nick curtly interrupted. “What do you mean?” scowled Kate. “Come across plainly.” “I’ll make it plain enough to you,” Nick retorted. “I happened to see the woman who pretended to faint in Central Park yesterday afternoon. I remained with the nurse after we found that the Madden girl had been stolen. I went with her to the Madden residence, and I was there when one of the abductors talked by telephone with John Madden--or thought she did.” “Thought she did!” echoed Kate involuntarily. “Exactly,” Nick nodded. “But she did not talk with John Madden. She talked with me--and I recognized her voice. It was your voice, Kate Crandall.” “Rats! Nonsense! You are talking through your hat,” Kate cried, with inelegant defiance, though her cheeks were ghastly and her thin, cruel lips as gray as ashes. “Oh, no, I am not,” Nick insisted. “I heard----”