With an oath, Nixon threw himself into the front seat of the carriage and folded his arms.
“Keep me away from him, then,” he said. “I shall not wait for the drug if I get another chance.”
The doctor pointed out to the crowded streets.
“See the risk you would run,” he said.
The carriage drove straight to the Windsor Hotel.
Nixon glared about in a suspicious manner, but helped to carry the unconscious man to a room on the second floor without making any remarks.
He cursed and swore at the crowd which gathered around the stairway when Chick was taken from the vehicle, but said nothing to his companion until the door of the room was closed behind them.
“What does this mean?” he then demanded.
He spoke with his hand on the handle of a revolver, but before he could draw it the doctor had him covered.
“It means,” was the calm reply, “that you are under arrest. Throw up your hands.”