This time they tied a handkerchief over her eyes.
“She’s the devil’s own,” said the voice which Ida thought was the voice of the one from whom she had just escaped.
“You say she belongs to Nick Carter?” said another voice. “So she is.”
“She won’t get away this time,” replied the other.
The two attempted to pick her up again.
While her eyes were being bandaged, Ida had seemed to make no resistance, but was busy in taking something from her pocket.
But when the two lifted her up, she wriggled out of their grasp, sinking to the pavement, where she tried to do something with her hand.
The two pounced on her again, and this time lifted her clear from her feet, and not gently, either.
It did not appear that they carried her again through the gate by which she had escaped, but up the street a short distance and into another hallway.
But she struggled with every step, throwing out her right arm and bringing it into contact with everything she could strike.