“Here you, Conley! Come here with the lantern, so I can see to run in this car. Look lively, old pal!” Patsy wondered why he had shouted so lustily, and now he ventured to raise the wicker lid about half an inch and peer out. A dimly lighted basement met his gaze. It was not more than twenty feet square, with the stone foundation walls of the stable on two sides, the open door on a third, while the fourth and interior side appeared to be a solid wooden bulkhead. The floor was the bare ground, and the place was evidently designed for stowing away an automobile. “This is where that car came from this noon, that’s plain enough,” thought Patsy. “Yet Nick must be wrong in thinking the rascals own so many cars, for I’ve seen only two. There’s not room in there for more than that number.” The last thought had barely crossed his mind, however, when Patsy discovered his mistake, and also why Badger had shouted so loudly. A secret sliding door in the interior bulkhead wall suddenly flew open, revealing a long extension of the basement, running even under the carriage-house adjoining the stable above. In this secret extension, which was so cleverly constructed as to defy detection either from within or without, Patsy now caught sight of half a score of motors lined up against one of the side walls, each of a different make from the others, and all apparently in first-class condition. “By thunder! this does settle it, and Nick was right,” he mused. “Those are the different cars these knaves have used for their night hold-ups. This exterior basement is only a blind for concealing the other.” The chief figure that at once claimed Patsy’s attention, however, was that of Jerry Conley. He had appeared in the secret doorway in response to Badger’s shout, and he carried in one hand a lighted lantern, and in the other a flask of brandy. “Well, what do you say, Jerry?” demanded Badger, as the other strode out to join him. “He’s all right now,” growled Conley, setting down the lantern. “Got him back to earth?” “Pretty nearly. He’ll be himself in a few minutes.” “Thank God!” thought Patsy fervently. “That refers to Nick.” “Then he’ll not croak?” inquired Badger, as if somewhat disappointed. “Not this time; though I reckon ’twould be a good thing for us if he did,” snarled Conley. “Help me run this car in, then I’ll go and have a talk with him.” Patsy ducked his head and dropped the hamper lid. Then he sensed that the two men had seized the sides of the car and drawn it well into the exterior basement. “Things all right in town?” queried Conley. “Yes.” “Did both women come out?” “Sure.” “I’m thinking ’twould be a good scheme to hold up some party to-night,” Conley now declared. “Why so?” inquired Badger. “It would go to show the police that the unknown road robbers have not been interfered with by any move of Nick Carter, and when he is found to be missing, no suspicion, naturally, would fall upon us.” “There’s something in that.”