"Will you keep quiet?" murmured the chief detective. "You cannot escape, and you are only making the affair more disastrous to yourself."
Then Brett realized that further resistance was hopeless. He managed to gurgle out that if they would allow him to assume a more comfortable attitude he would not trouble them any further.
Gingerly and cautiously the two men somewhat relaxed the strain, and he was able to breathe freely once more.
Then he laughed, almost hysterically, but he could not help saying in English—
"The shadow of Scotland Yard falls on me even here. Poor old Winter, how I will roast him over this adventure!"
"What are you talking about?" demanded one of the men.
"I was only thinking aloud," replied Brett.
"And what were your thoughts?"
"Simply this, that the sooner I meet your remarkably astute commissary the better I shall be pleased."