And he ran after the other two.
At the door of the room where they supposed Ellison had been taken they met two or three, who had been attracted by the noise and scuffle in the hall.
Nick sprang forward, striking with both hands, and Chick was beside him in the effort.
The force with which they had jumped forward carried them into the room. A hasty glance showed them a man bound on the bed, while one was bending over him.
They waited for nothing, but each of the three detectives selected a man and toppled him over with blows.
The onslaught had been so rapid, and so vicious, as well as unexpected, that the men were hardly prepared to defend themselves.
Nick sprang to the bedside and, whirling the man who stood there aside, and who, as they subsequently learned, was a physician, said to the prostrate man:
“We are your friends, Mr. Ellison.”
He could see the man’s eyes flash with intelligence and, whipping out a knife, Nick cut the bands that confined him and, thrusting a revolver in his hand, said:
“Help to defend yourself.”