“By gracious, it don’t look very promising,” Nick muttered, grim and frowning. “But there’ll be some gun play, all right, if the rascals try to bore a hole through this ceiling. I’ll foil them yet, barring——”
Nick then was given the surprise of his life.
A sharp click broke his train of thought. The door of the trap flew open and a girl stood directly in front of him in the lighted corridor.
She was deathly pale and frightfully excited, but her eyes were aglow with fierce determination. Her hair and garments were in disorder. Her lace collar was stained with blood. She was trembling from head to foot with frantic eagerness.
“I heard them—I know!” she wildly whispered. “I’m Lottie Trent. I was imprisoned in that room opposite. I picked the lock with a hairpin. I had seen them open this door and knew you could not——”
Her torrent of words was cut short by the sudden sharp crack of a revolver.
A bullet splintered the woodwork above her head.
“They’ve heard me!” she gasped.
Nick already had seized her and drawn her into the trap, beyond reach of bullet from that end of the corridor where Margate and his two confederates were plunging down a low flight of stairs.
“Wait here!” Nick commanded, forcing the girl to one corner and snatching out both of his revolvers. “I’ll give these rats a taste of their own medicine.”