The detective did not hesitate any longer. He pushed Miguel ahead of him, at the same time pointing one of his pistols at Don Solado. “Show me the place! Show it to me, quick!” he shouted. “I know it is the cellar. But how do you get down to it? Quick!” Only the knowledge that Chick was in deadly peril within a few yards of him, and that if he took the time to find out for himself how to reach his prison, it might be too late, prevented Nick Carter from shooting Miguel dead on the spot. “I’ll show you!” volunteered Solado. “Fool!” mumbled Miguel, in too low a tone for Nick Carter to hear. “Where is the door?” demanded Nick. “Here! In this corner, behind these barrels!” answered Solado. “Here is the key. It is barred outside, too.” Nick began to tear away the barrels, taking no notice of Solado or Miguel. He had something more important to engage his attention just then. The deadly fumes of ammonia were coming from the chinks of the cellar, and, as he turned the key, kicked away the bar, and pulled the door open, they came pouring out in a volume that staggered him for a moment. “Chick!” he called. There was no answer. Nick Carter turned the powerful gleam of his flash light into the gloomy depths, and a low cry of horror broke from him. Lying on the floor, against the wall, his limbs contorted and his face buried in his arms, as if he had resisted the deadly gas as long as he could, was Chick. It was not necessary for Nick Carter to see the face to know who it was. He would have recognized the general appearance of his beloved first assistant even if he had not known him by his clothes. “Chick!” he repeated, in an agonized groan, as he pressed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. “Chick! Keep your mouth covered!” “Chief!” The response came in a far-away gasp, as if it were almost the last effort the speaker was capable of making. It was enough for Nick Carter. Indeed, he had not waited for a reply. Even while he spoke to Chick he had begun to descend the steep ladder in the corner of the cellar. With a bound he crossed the floor and picked up his assistant in his arms. “Keep your mouth covered!” mumbled Nick Carter, through his handkerchief. It was instinct that made Chick press his two hands over his mouth. Nick crawled along, keeping as low as he could to avoid at least some of the strength of the poisonous ammonia. The engine thudded unseen in another compartment of the big cellar, pumping more of the gas from the generator to the storage tank, whence some demoniac villainy had arranged for it to escape. “This will be all for Solado and Miguel,” thought Nick, as he half carried, half dragged, Chick across the floor. He had reached the bottom of the ladder, when a loud, derisive laugh overhead came to his ears. Then, with a bang, the door closed! Instantly Nick dropped at full length, taking Chick with him.