Perhaps Chick liked it all the more because the tones of Marcos were so much like Nick Carter’s that in the deep gloom he had some difficulty in assuring himself that it was not his chief who was talking. He could not help referring to it, however. “You and Mr. Carter are more alike than any two persons I have ever seen in my life,” he blurted out. “Even your voices are the same.” “So they tell me,” was the careless reply. “But let’s get out of this. I’ve got to get even with that scoundrelly cousin of mine, Miguel, and I’ll never do it till I am clear of this bad-smelling place. Come on, Chick!” “There is a trapdoor in the corner of my cellar, just as there is in yours,” remarked Chick. “I guess that is the way they brought me in. But they took away the ladder with them. If they hadn’t, we might have gone that way, if this one of yours is too hard a proposition.” Chick lifted the heavy door from the floor, and, with difficulty, extracted the blade of his jackknife. Marcos was already on the ladder in his own cellar. Chick found that his companion had rightly estimated the weakness of the trapdoor. When they had both climbed the ladder, so that they could put their hands against it together, they made it yield a little at the very first effort. “Wait till I cut the wood away around the hinges,” suggested Chick. “It’s pretty rotten, and it is there that it will give way, if anywhere.” Two minutes sufficed for this work. The knife was very sharp, as well as heavy, and Chick handled it deftly. “She’ll go now!” he declared confidently, as he returned the knife to his pocket. “Now! Together!” Up went the trap, breaking away from the hinges. At the same instant, somebody pulled Marcos through the opening and shut the trap down with a bang, knocking Chick off the ladder! He fell to the ground on his head, and lost consciousness. When he came to his senses, the cellar was darker than it had been before, and he found himself tightly bound, hand and foot. There was a foul odor coming from somewhere, which seemed to tighten his chest so that he could hardly breathe. “Ammonia!” gasped Chick, and became senseless again. CHAPTER IX. AN OFFER OF LIBERTY. When Nick Carter and Patsy began to row toward the back of the warehouse, both were on the alert for any enemy who might be on the watch. The famous detective knew by experience that the time to expect a hostile surprise was the moment when everything seemed safe, and he was not deceived by the apparent serenity around him. “Pull into the reeds, Patsy!” he whispered hurriedly. Patsy obeyed without asking why. He had not seen anything suspicious, but he knew Nick Carter would not give an order without some good reason. Once in the shelter of the thick, tall grass, however, Patsy looked at his chief for an explanation.