He only knew that he was roughly dragged along the hall—in which direction he could not tell—hustled through no less than three doors, and then—after some heavy furniture had been moved, apparently to uncover a trapdoor—was yanked up and down on a rope.
When his captors got through with him, he could not have told, to save his life, whether he was on the same floor as the operating room, the one above it, or the one below it—that is, from anything which his confusing route had told him.
And the only reason he was inclined to believe that he was in the cellar was that the air had a musty, subterranean smell.
Two other prisoners—Nick and the young surgeon, beyond a doubt—were soon dumped in on top of him.
Evidently their prison was very small, and the closeness of the air suggested that it had long been closed up.
Perhaps ten minutes later a fourth prisoner was unceremoniously added to the growing heap, but the additional weight was not great. Patsy’s instincts told him that Adelina was probably the latest arrival.
The thought gave him a sickening sensation.
If his young wife had been seized, no one was left on the outside with anything like a definite knowledge of their whereabouts.
To be sure, Nick’s other assistants knew the situation in a general way, but they were not aware that an attempt to force Doctor Grantley’s hand was to have been made that night. Nick had not been sure that he would act until the last moment.
They would doubtless take steps, sooner or later, to learn what had happened, but, in the meantime, unless Adelina had called up the police before her capture, almost anything might happen.