“Oh, great Caesar!” gulped Hawkins. “It's—it's getting horrible, isn't it?”
“Aha! I heard yer then, ye cur!” roared the captive.
Hawkins' hand on my arm shook violently.
“We—we'll have to do something with him,” he whispered. “What shall it be? We've got to subdue him, somehow or other.”
“Why not let the chloroform work while we go out and get a couple of policemen?”
“Well, you see, it doesn't seem to be working, Griggs. Don't know why, but—phew! Did you hear that rip?”
I had heard it. I had also seen the silhouette of a long arm appear against the dim light of the window.
“Oh, Lord!” gasped Hawkins. “It's given somewhere! We'll have to squelch him now inside of ten seconds or—what the deuce shall I do, Griggs?”
“Take a chair and stun him,” I replied. “That's all I can suggest. And personally I don't care for the job.”
“Well—somebody's got to do something,” groaned the inventor, seizing one of the bedroom chairs. “If ever he gets loose—say, where are you going, Griggs?”