CHAPTER VIHOW PATSY BROKE IN
The blow on the head, suffered by the detective when he fell to the table, had been a severe one, and, aggravated by another tumble when the table crumpled up beneath him, it had inflicted worse injuries than might have been thought by any one who had seen the catastrophe.
It was hours before Nick Carter came to himself. When he did, he was in pitch-darkness, and he realized, from the peculiar, damp smell, that he was in a cellar.
Also, he caught a pungent odor, which he recognized, and which reminded him of the conversation he had heard just before he plunged through the broken banister.
“Ammonia, as sure as I am here,” he muttered. “I’ll have to move quickly, for it seems to me as if the stuff has been disturbed lately. If it has, probably it means—”
The
