It was slow work at first, but he persisted, and—well, the moment came when the wire fell away from his wrists and his hands were free.
He did not attempt, just then, to free his ankles, too. There would be time enough for that, afterward; and besides, the risk of arousing the sleeper was too great.
But he got upon his feet, bound together side by side though they were; he succeeded in poising himself for an instant, and then with one mighty leap he propelled himself forward, his arms outstretched, his hands opened to seize upon the throat of the sleeping and exhausted man.
His fingers clutched Lynne’s throat, and tightened upon it.
Lynne struggled feebly, but with no avail against the great strength of Red Mike.
Then, just at the instant when the desperado would have finished the job so thoroughly begun, he heard the sound of voices from the lower hall of the house, for his ears had been acutely strained to catch such sounds, all the time.
With a last added squeeze of his fingers upon that white throat, Red Mike sprang away from the bed, toward another door than the one by which Thomas had entered the room—toward the one, in fact, by which he had made his own entrance, for he had left a way open for retreat in case of necessity.
As he darted away from the bed his glance fell upon the automatic pistol, and he seized it and had reached the door before he remembered to be sorry that he had not stopped long enough to use it on Lynne.
Then another thought occurred to him, and he smiled grimly while he stood there at the door and waited.
He knew that the other door would be thrown open in a moment, and he expected that the person who would appear when that should happen, would be Nick Carter.