Chick found that his companion had rightly estimated the weakness of the trapdoor. When they had both climbed the ladder, so that they could put their hands against it together, they made it yield a little at the very first effort.
“Wait till I cut the wood away around the hinges,” suggested Chick. “It’s pretty rotten, and it is there that it will give way, if anywhere.”
Two minutes sufficed for this work. The knife was very sharp, as well as heavy, and Chick handled it deftly.
“She’ll go now!” he declared confidently, as he returned the knife to his pocket. “Now! Together!”
Up went the trap, breaking away from the hinges.
At the same instant, somebody pulled Marcos through the opening and shut the trap down with a bang, knocking Chick off the ladder!
He fell to the ground on his head, and lost consciousness.
When he came to his senses, the cellar was darker than it had been before, and he found himself tightly bound, hand and foot.
There was a foul odor coming from somewhere, which seemed to tighten his chest so that he could hardly breathe.
“Ammonia!” gasped Chick, and became senseless again.