At any rate, Patsy was already within arm’s reach of Grantley, who was the nearest of the trio.
The surgeon was far from a coward, but in the face of this unexpected onslaught he could only back toward his allies. His manner was still dazed, and his eyes were fastened unwinkingly on Patsy, in the manner of a fascinated squirrel under the spell of a boa constrictor.
It was not until the strange weapon was actually descending that he recovered his presence of mind enough to dodge—or try to do so.
He succeeded only partially, however. The piece of iron missed his head by a fraction of an inch, but descended with numbing force on the muscles of his right shoulder.
Hoff had tried to protect him, but the German’s interference came a little too late to be very effective. He thrust his staggering employer aside, however, and jumped at Patsy before the latter could recover for another blow.
Patsy gave back a step or two and thus came close to the front of the coal bin, that adjoined the one with the false bottom.
The German was larger and much more fully muscled than the young detective. It looked as if the latter was pitted against more than his match. But Patsy was not daunted in the least. He was chiefly concerned just then with the hope that his wife would not delay her attempt to escape and that Nick would be able to crawl out of the hole before he was discovered.
“Ach! So?” snarled Hoff. “Ve shall see!”
He caught Patsy’s upraised wrist in a powerful grip and one of his big arms went around the young man’s waist. Patsy felt himself being bent backward from the hips in a way that was far from agreeable.
Despite Hoff’s hold, he managed to toss the piece of iron into the coal bin. It was only in his way now, but he did not care to drop it where one of his enemies could possess himself of it without any trouble.