“Upside down,” said he, “W. H. becomes H. M.”
“What of it?”
“Nothing now,” Nick answered, quietly, opening the knife’s largest blade. “One of the men who brought us here must have dropped the knife. Turn over, Chick, and I’ll cut off your ropes.”
Chick whirled over, and was soon freed of the bonds about his wrists and ankles.
Nick then cut the cords from his own feet, and the two detectives arose and stretched their cramped limbs.
“Wonder if I shot anybody up there during the set-to?” Nick muttered, closing the knife blade and slipping the knife into his pocket.
“Give it up,” answered Chick. “I was down and out about as soon as you were. The instant the light was turned off, somebody let me have it full from behind. Great Scott! My head’s buzzing yet.”
“Mine, too.”
“I wonder if I’ve been touched?” Chick began, turning his pockets inside out. “Oh, no, I haven’t been touched,” he remarked, dryly; “I’ve been grabbed. I haven’t got so much as a toothpick left. Those longshoremen probably got the rake-off for their trouble.”
“I have nothing left but the pocket lamp,” said Nick. “In some way they overlooked that. The thing for us to do is to get out. I have a pressing engagement at Montgomery’s house, in Forty-fourth Street, to-morrow morning at ten. What time do you think it is now?”