“Slow down, Danny, and look out for that wire,” said Nick Carter to his chauffeur. “It may be a live one.”
“I’m onto it, chief.”
“Onto it, eh? Don’t you run onto it while I’m in the car, not if it’s a live one. You may fancy absorbing the output of an electric-lighting plant, but not for mine, Danny, not for mine! I know what it would do to me. I’ve seen men electrocuted.”
Danny Maloney laughed, for it was obvious that the famous detective was jesting.
“Onto it with my lamps, chief, is what I meant,” he replied.
“Say what you mean, then,” said Nick with a smile. “Precision is one of the valuable assets of a detective. Luckily, however, you are addressing one who can read between the lines—barring those of the ambiguous letter that brought us out here.”
“Can’t you fathom it? It must b
