“Great guns!” exclaimed the chief. “What has happened, Mr.——”
“Call me Nicholas,” hissed Nick, clinging to the chief and with lips close to his ear. “I’m shot!” he cried again. “Some one fired into the telephone box from the court. Help me to my room! Send for a doctor—quick!”
There was a great commotion in the hotel office.
The clerk, the porters and the bell boys came running to the scene, inquiring excitedly about the shooting.
The chief turned Nick over to two of the porters, and he was carried upstairs to his room and laid on the bed.
At every step of the upward journey the detective let out a groan of pain.
One of the bell boys rushed away for the house physician.
The porters lingered in Nick’s room, and so did the clerk, who had accompanied them.
“Don’t stay in the room, so many of you,” moaned Nick; “my nerves are all on edge. Where’s the doctor? Isn’t he coming?”
The clerk motioned to the porters, who at once withdrew.