Nick was dragged to the square of light in front of the open doorway. He appeared to be still under the influence of liquor.
The men regarded him with rage and dismay, holding him fast in the meantime.
“This is not the man we want,” one of them shouted.
“Who are you?” demanded another.
Sounds of advancing footsteps were now heard from the direction of the private staircase.
“Quick!” cried one of the men, seizing Nick by the throat. “Is there any way out of this cursed hole? The cops are after us.”
“They brought me here to rob me,” faltered the detective, “and I can’t find the way out.”
“Some cheap sport,” cried one of the gang. “Come on, boys!”
But Nick had no idea of permitting the men to escape.