It was Stumpy.
Very quickly he pushed his way through the throng until he was close beside the captain, then he grasped his arm suddenly, and, ripping up the sleeve with a knife, pointed with a grin to a red mark.
The thing had been done so suddenly that the detectives even were taken by surprise.
But the captain understood it, and his face underwent a fearful change.
"Who are you?" he breathed, hoarsely.
Then, as he recognized his companion in crime, he shrieked:
"Hold him! hold him! He's an escaped convict! I know him! I can swear to him! I've worked in the same gang! Hah! hah! I've tricked you all at last!"
And, as Mr. Dockett suddenly released his arm, he dashed something in his mouth and fell upon the floor.
There was a slight noise of breaking glass, the blood trickled from some small cuts at his lips, then a cry arose from Mr. Dockett, who had knelt beside him and was staring at his arm.
"It's the general! Stumpy was right! Here's the mark upon his arm! No. 108! He's done us after all! Stand back! Give him air! Ah! he's dead—poisoned!"