“He may be trying to get to us.”
“That’s it, of course,” exclaimed Patsy, jumping to a conclusion with his customary haste.
“We don’t know yet,” went on Nick Carter. “But——”
More scratching, and Nick Carter was sure the noise was made in a regular cadence, as if it were meant for a signal.
“That officer showed that he was friendly,” he murmured. “Perhaps he has found out where we are.”
“He’s a big man in the city,” remarked Chick.
“Exactly. And he could go pretty nearly where he likes—in the temple or anywhere else,” was Nick Carter’s response. “I’ll try to find out, if only I can do it, with these confounded ropes around my arms. Keep still, everybody.”
With considerable difficulty, Nick contrived to roll himself across the floor to the door. Once there, he got the toe of his shoe against it and scratched three times, with a distinct pause between each scratch.
At once there came three scratches like his own, on the outside.
“Bully!” burst out of Patsy.