“It is a wonder you didn’t trust somebody else to gather these men in,” remarked Chick. “You might have saved all this time for yourself if you’d just let me come. I could have handled the case, I know.”
Nick Carter did not answer this grumbling tirade. He did not seem even to hear it. Now he darted out of the doorway into the dark hall, with Chick close behind him, and tried the door, the lock of which Lampton had been working on with his bit of strong wire.
“We’ll have to break it open, Chick. Too bad! I was waiting for him to get the door open. Then I intended to nail him before he could shut it again. He was too quick for me. Lampton always was a slick individual. He slipped through and banged it shut all in an instant. It has a spring lock, you see, like our own—only with a different kind of key, of course.”
The detective was annoyed that he had allowed this rascal to keep him back, even for an instant. He pushed with all his strength at the door, resolved to break it in at all hazards. He could easily explain to the landlord who he was afterward, and a dollar or two would repair the damage.
“Mighty strong door!” exclaimed Chick, as he hurled himself against it by the side of his chief. “It ain’t going to give way in a hurry. But we’ll have to smash it open if it takes all——”
He broke off suddenly, for inside the room there arose the sound of two men engaged in a fierce struggle.
They could hear furniture falling over, and the scuffling of feet, mingled with pantings, as if the contestants were in fierce grips, and putting forth all their strength.
“Listen,” said Chick. “That sounds like Lampton’s voice. I haven’t heard it for three years, but I’d swear it’s he that’s growling to the other fellow to stand back.”
“Push the door!” returned Nick. “Never mind about talking. We can do that afterward. I want to get into this room.”
For a minute or two longer the racket continued. Then they heard the sound of a window sash being wished up violently, followed by more banging and scuffling.