But help was at hand. His cries had been heard in the street, and, a moment later the door leading to the thoroughfare opened, and a little light came in.
At the same time Roy heard the sound of a club striking on the pavement.
"The cops are coming!" cried a voice.
A few seconds later a burly bluecoat entered the door.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Nothing but a drunken row," quickly replied one of the men who had attacked Roy, at the same time trying to loosen the grip of the lad. "I'm putting the fellow out."
The plotter would have been glad to drop the matter now and escape, but Roy had no intention of letting him go.
"Officer!" exclaimed Roy quickly, "they're trying to get me away! I've got hold of two of 'em. Give us a hand and we'll throw and tie 'em both."
He talked as though he was on the ranch, handling a pair of refractory calves.
Somehow the officer recognized the honesty in Roy's voice. He knew it was not uncommon for thieves and pickpockets to attack persons in dark hallways. He supposed it was one of those cases.