"Where does the juice come from?" asked Jimmie, frankly puzzled. "They can't run motors and things without electricity!"
"Maybe the fellow that lived here had a private plant!"
"Maybe he did, but what keeps it running now that he's gone?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. Let's not worry about that!"
Cautiously proceeding along the passageway a short distance, the boys came to a flight of rude stairs cut into the wall. There was but little room on the narrow steps, and if they had not been guided by the flame from their electric torches they must have suffered a fall.
Beyond the stairs lay a black opening from which came a damp, musty odor. Jimmie sniffed distrustfully and shook his head.
"Come back, Ned," he urged. "You're going to the slaughter house where the old Duke kept pigs and things!"
"No, don't go back yet!" protested Jack. "Let's push on and see what there is ahead. Maybe Ned's conjecture is correct!"
Without further parley Ned took a few steps along the passage until he came to a turn. Here he paused to wait for his companions.