He glanced, smiling, at the revolver in his left hand and back again to me. There was nothing of the bully about him, nothing melodramatic; but I took off the coat without demur and threw it across to him.
"It will hide this stump," he said grimly; "and any of the Hashishin gentlemen who may be on the look-out — though I rather fancy the road is clear at the moment — will mistake me for you. See the idea? Carneta will be in a cab and I'll be in after her and away before they've got time to so much as whistle."
Very awkwardly he got into the coat.
"She's a clever girl, Carneta," he said. "She's doctored me all along since those devils cut my hand off."
As he finished speaking Carneta returned.
She had discarded her rags and wore a large travelling coat and a fashionable hat.
"Ready?" asked Dexter. "We'll make a rush for it. We meant to go to-night anyway. It's getting too hot here!" He turned to me.
"Sorry to say," he drawled, "I'll have to tie you up and gag you. Apologize; but it can't be helped."
Carneta nodded and went out of the room again, to return almost immediately with a line that looked as though it might have been employed for drying washing.
"Hands behind you," rapped Dexter, toying with the revolver—"and think yourself lucky you've got two!"