It eased the tension to hurl verbal defiance at his murderer, and there was just the chance that the fellow might understand a little English. But when his visitor stooped over him and deliberately cut his bonds, he was astounded into silence.
He waited dumfounded, and a muscular hand gripped his shoulder, holding him motionless.
"You'll be all right," a quiet voice said, "if you don't make a confounded fool of yourself."
Phil gave a great start, and the hand that gripped him tightened. Through the gloom he made out the outline of a grim, bearded face.
"Control yourself!" the quiet voice ordered. "Do you think I've done this for nothing? We are alone—it may be for five minutes, it may be for less. Get out of your things—sharp, and let me have them."
"Great Jupiter—Tudor!" gasped Phil.
"Yes—Tudor!" came the curt response. "Don't stop to jaw. Do as I tell you."
He took his hand from Phil's shoulder and stood up, backing into the shadows.
Phil stood up, too, straightening himself with an effort. The suddenness of this thing had thrown him momentarily off his balance.