“You see,” continued the Sepoy as he was about to deposit the bag in the case, “I have left room for this. I anticipated its addition to my paraphernalia and made preparations accordingly.
“Notice how neatly it fits in. And now I offer you my sympathy for the miscarriage of your plans.
“This, to a man of sentiment and enterprise, is always obnoxious. I feel myself indebted to you for some exceedingly intelligent mental processes, and, believe me, I part with you with a feeling so nearly resembling regret that I will not do you the discourtesy of doubting that the sentiment is genuine.
“I leave you to make explanations to your clients in whatsoever way you may see fit. I salute you!” and the next instant the Sepoy had slipped through the doorway into the hall, along which he hurried until he reached the main entrance of the house.
To make his way through this into the vestibule and thence into the street was the work of the next few moments, and with a grin of malicious triumph he descended the steps which led to the pave.
Scarcely had his feet touched the ground when a man from either side of the stone balustrade stepped out, and each grasped an arm of the scowling Sepoy.
“A moment, please!” exclaimed one of the men, as he snapped back the shield of a small lantern he carried and directed its searching light into the distorted countenance.
“Ah!” exclaimed his captor to the fellow on the other side of the prisoner, “this is the chap, Tom.”
“Now, mister, you can walk back. Not a word; you may be all right and we may be all wrong; it can soon be settled in there.”
“One question, please,” begged the Sepoy. “Who are you? By what right do you detain me?”