In the midst of his desperate struggle, a savage blow on the head sent him down.
The shouts and curses of his assailants died away in his ears, he felt them piling on top of him, and then he remembered nothing more.
CHAPTER IX.
THE DEATH CHAMBER.
Nick opened his eyes in darkness.
Not a ray of light could be seen at any point in the surrounding gloom, and a silence as of the grave reigned all around.
Under him was a hard stone floor, and from the dank, moldy smell of the place he thought he must be in a cellar—presumably the basement under Boucicault’s.
His head was throbbing painfully, and he was lying on his bound arms and wrists.
His ankles were also bound.
“Well, here’s a go!” he exclaimed, aloud.
The words echoed hollowly through the place, and had hardly left Nick’s lips before another voice came from a little distance.