“Put on the darbies, Nick! If this fellow tries to pull the trigger it will be all over with him.”
It was Chick.
He was behind the other man, and was pressing the muzzle of a revolver against the back of his head.
A baffled oath broke from the man in the derby hat.
Nick, realizing that there was no time to be lost, was about to adjust the handcuffs.
Before he could do it, however, a rap fell on the door.
Silence followed.
The rap was repeated more emphatically.
“Ask who’s there, Gillman,” whispered Nick, bringing the weapon out of his pocket and making a significant movement with it.
“Who’s there?” inquired Gillman.