“You might choke him off for me,” the detective said, with a wry face.
Evidently his side was troubling him more than he would have cared to confess.
Patsy needed nothing more. He laid down his flash lamp—which was so made that it did not require a continuous pressure on the button to remain lighted—and jumped into the fray.
His fingers went around Grantley’s neck and he jerked the surgeon backward until Nick was freed. Grantley struggled for all he was worth, but the grip on his throat did not relax. His face grew purple and congested, his tongue hung out of his slavering jaws, and still Patsy maintained that terrible hold.
Gradually the vivisectionist’s struggles became weaker and weaker, but it was not until Nick had handcuffed him that Patsy’s grip was loosened.
As soon as he had tossed the gasping and almost unconscious man aside, Patsy made for Hoff, with the intention of securing him before he should come to and give any more trouble.
He halted on the way, however, amazed to find Doctor Cooke in his path. Nick’s friend had slowly regained his senses, and, finding himself free, had crawled out of his prison house as soon as he felt it safe to do so.
He and Patsy exchanged a few hurried words, after which the latter started upstairs, to satisfy himself that all was well with Adelina.
He met her returning to the Grantley house, and learned from her that she had telephoned to the police and the nearest hospital. An ambulance and a patrol wagon, full of reserves, soon arrived. There was no longer any need of the latter, but the ambulance was very welcome.
The Jewish girl—whose name was subsequently found to be Alma Baum—was tenderly removed from the cellar and carried to the hospital, where she ultimately recovered from her terrible experience.