“My God!” cried Robert.
It was the Sepoy!
“Hands up!” commanded a voice which the young man recognized as that of Gratz; “hands up, or you are a dead man. There are five bullets in reserve for you if you budge from where you stand.”
With an imprecation that was charged with malignant venom, the Sepoy looked upon the gleaming barrel of a pistol which was advancing into the light, recognized his helplessness, and with snarling obedience elevated his arms in the air.
“Robert!” called Gratz.
The young man, trembling, hurried to the opening.
“Get behind me,” directed Gratz; “put your hand in my coat pocket; you’ll find a pair of bracelets there for our friend here.”
With shaking hands Robert followed these sharply delivered instructions, and withdrew a set of handcuffs, gaping at the fastenings to receive a pair of guilty wrists.
“Now move around to the rear of this gentleman,” continued the relentless Gratz, “and snap them on his wrists.”
Somehow Robert managed to obey these commands.