With deft, quick strokes, he cut their bonds.
Jai Singh had woke up, and, catching the last few remarks made, he understood that a friend had come to help them. So he rolled over to have the ropes taken off his limbs.
When he was free, the tall Hindu arose and stretched himself with a grunt of satisfaction that was almost as loud as Patsy Garvan’s.
When they were all released, and had had a few moments in which to move about, to get their blood again in circulation, Lord Slava gave the word for them to depart.
“Follow me closely,” he cautioned. “One false step may arouse the whole of this nest of vermin. But the way I shall take you is not long, and we can soon be out of immediate danger.”
“Now I’ve got my hands to use again danger is just what I want,” mumbled Patsy to himself. “Gee! There’s nothing I’d like better than a rough-house right here.”
“Keep quiet, Patsy,” admonished Nick Carter, whose keen hearing very little ever escaped.
The prisoners followed Lord Slava step by step, paused while he opened another door and closed it carefully after them all, and passed after him down a long, low, damp-smelling tunnel.
They went on till they came to a sharp turn. There they felt the fresh air blowing on their faces, and saw an oval patch of sky in front and above them.
The friendly officer of the guard placed his heel on the torch and stamped out the fire.