"Come on up, Roy! Help me!"
"He's plucky to tackle that fellow alone," thought the boy from the ranch.
But now he had no time for musings. He must act. As he let go the rope, his feet having touched the ground, he found himself in the not very clean yard of the tenement.
About him were boxes and barrels of rubbish, decaying vegetables were on all sides, besides tin cans and heaps of refuse. Clearly the tenants in the house were not particular.
Roy looked about him. The yard was surrounded by a high fence, and there were no persons in sight. To the rear was the electric light plant, and on either side, the yards of other tenement houses. Then Roy saw an alley, which, he thought, would lead to the street.
Leaving his lariat dangling, he made a dash for the alley and soon found himself in front of the tenement house, where he had so recently been a prisoner.
Up the stairs he went on the jump, and, as he came near the room where he had been held, he could hear the sound of a struggle.
"They're fighting!" he thought. "I must help De Royster!"
As he entered the apartment he saw the jewelry salesman holding Wakely by the wrists, while the man was endeavoring to get away.
"Quiet now, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Mortimer De Royster. "I say, old chap, you can't get away, don't you know. I've got you, and I'm going to have you arrested."