He had a knife out now, but his fingers proved to be better able to cope with the rope with the wire core, now that he could use them freely. He went at Nick’s wrists first, leaving his own ankles bound and weighed down as they were.
“Where are we? Have you any idea?” Nick asked eagerly. “I have only the vaguest impressions of being dragged and suspended and dumped and a few other things—including something which sounded as if we had been buried alive and they were throwing the dirt over our coffin.”
“You’re not so far off about that as you may think,” his assistant replied.
Patsy then went on to tell his chief what he knew and suspected. A few crisp words were sufficient, and after that he explained what he thought would be the best move for them to make.
Nick approved the plan. Neither of them wasted any time in outlining their course of action after they should get out of the bin. That must take care of itself, and would naturally be governed by circumstances.
Nick’s bonds were soon entirely removed, and the detective turned his attention to the others, while Patsy removed the dead weight from his own legs and attacked the ropes which bound his ankles.
Nick’s little pocket flash lamp had not been taken away from him. It was now brought into use, since there was apparently no one in the cellar to see its light.
The sight which it revealed was a most painful one, through the chinks of the bin.
Doctor Cooke was still unconscious. At first glance it seemed that he must be dead, but the detective quickly ascertained, with an exclamation of relief, that the young surgeon’s heart was beating strongly.
Reassured by this, Nick threw the light upon Adelina Garvan. Patsy was entirely free by that time and pressed forward anxiously. His wife was conscious and seemingly unhurt, although she had been bound like the rest.