“Sounds like a cat,” murmured Patsy.
There was a faint, but regular, scratching outside the door, but it made too much noise for a cat.
They had visions of some monstrous creature trying to force his way into the cell, and all except Nick Carter shuddered with the terror that comes sometimes to the bravest man in the face of the unknown.
“We’ll have to kick if it comes at us,” said Patsy. “That’s all we can do. If only we had our hands free!”
“Oh, shut up!” growled Chick. “While we are wishing, why not wish we were outside this city, with Leslie Arnold, and everything all right? Keep still till we see what we are going to do.”
“Hush!” ordered Nick Carter.
The scratching continued, and then it came to the detective that the sound might mean something good for them, instead of evil.
“You remember that officer who was talking to us?” he whispered.
“Yes,” returned Chick, with a note of hope in his voice.
“That’s so,” added the millionaire.