The stop was made in front of a two-story brick house.
“I’ll get out here, and you can wait for me,” said Martin. “Better turn on the electricity in the lamps, for it will be pretty dark when we start back.”
Martin got out and went up the steps and into the house, and Nick turned the electricity into the side lamps and settled himself back in the seat as comfortably as he could.
Presently he became aware that a roughly dressed man, with his hands in his trousers’ pockets, was sizing up the machine through the semigloom.
“What’s one ov them there dinguses wuth?” the man inquired.
“More than you’ll ever salt away,” answered Nick.
“I want tew knaow! Naow, mister, ef yeou’ll jist tell me——”
Nick started up suddenly in his seat, and swept a quick glance around.
“You’re taking a big risk, chief!” he muttered.
“Got an answer to that Chicago telegram, and had to see you,” the chief replied.