He stepped up to Drummond and ran his hands over his coat, while the others stared at one another in amazement. Surely Hugh didn’t imagine the swine would really let him go; he would merely take the money and probably spit in his face again. Then they heard him speaking, and a sudden gleam of comprehension dawned on their faces.
“You’ll have to undo one of the ropes, my friend, before you can get at it,” said Hugh quietly.
For a moment the German hesitated. He looked at the ropes carefully; the one that bound the arms and the upper part of the body was separate from the rope round the legs. Even if he did undo it the fool Englishman was still helpless, and he knew that he was unarmed. Had he not himself removed his revolver, as he lay unconscious in the hall? What risk was there, after all? Besides, if he called someone else in he would have to share the money.
And, as he watched the German’s indecision, Hugh’s forehead grew damp with sweat.... Would he undo the rope? Would greed conquer caution?
At last the Boche made up his mind, and went behind the chair. Hugh felt him fumbling with the rope, and flashed an urgent look of caution at the other two.
“You’d better be careful, Heinrich,” he remarked, “that none of the others see, or you might have to share.”
The German ceased undoing the knot, and grunted. The English swine had moments of brightness, and he went over and closed the door. Then he resumed the operation of untying the rope; and, since it was performed behind the chair, he was in no position to see the look on Drummond’s face. Only the two spectators could see that, and they had almost ceased breathing in their excitement. That he had a plan they knew: what it was they could not even guess.
At last the rope fell clear, and the German sprang back.
“Put the case on the table,” he cried, having not the slightest intention of coming within range of those formidable arms.
“Certainly not,” said Hugh, “until you undo my legs. Then you shall have it.”