“‘He hasn’t,’ said the voice of Cigole. ‘Potts took them away. He’s unarmed.’
“‘Who are you?’ I cried, grasping the man who was holding the other down.
“‘Uracao,’ said he. ‘Get your pistols or you’re lost!’
“‘What the devil is the matter?’ I cried, angrily, for I had not even yet a suspicion.
“‘Feel around your neck,’ said he.
“Hastily I put my hand up. A thrill of terror passed through me. It was the Thuggee cord.
“‘Who is this?’ I cried, grasping the man who had fallen.
“‘Potts,’ cried Uracao. ‘Your pistols are under your berth. Quick! Potts tried to strangle you. There’s a plot. The Lascars are Thugs. I saw the mark on their arms, the name of Bowhani in Hindu letters.’
“All the truth now seemed to flash across me. I leaped back to the berth to look under it for my pistols. As I stooped there was a rush behind me.
“‘Help! Clark! Quick!’ cried the voice of Potts. ‘This devil’s strangling me!’