In this fence was a door about wide enough to admit the car, and Badger quickly sprang down to open it.
As the latter did so, there fell upon Patsy’s ears a sound that chilled his blood, despite the strong nerves and invincible courage of the young detective.
The sound was the sudden threatening barking of a dog, then confined in this basement garage.
“By thunder! it’s that Cuban bloodhound!” was Patsy’s mental exclamation.
He felt a thrill of dismay when he now recalled the huge beast, which he had not once thought of since undertaking the hazardous venture in which he was at present helplessly launched.
“If I escape detection by his ugly nostrils I shall be lucky,” he said to himself. “If he scents me before I can make some kind of a move to escape from this basket, I shall be a gone goose for sure.”
These thoughts passed quickly through Patsy’s mind while Badger was opening the door mentioned.
Then out came the dog, nearly as large as a small calf, leaping about his rascally master, and barking furiously.
“Gee whiz! that’s a pleasant sound,” murmured Patsy, with an irrepressible shudder.
“Down, Pluto!” roared Badger angrily. “Keep down, I say! Close that trap of yours, you brute, or I’ll break every bone in your ugly body. Get out, you cur!”