Wily and Dhondaram, silent and motionless as statues, knelt in the earth, the fluttering gleam of the candle over them, and were listening to the footfalls with bated breath.
From the manner of these two Matt understood forthwith that the person in the upper part of the house must be one whom his captors feared. Had it not been for the cloth that smothered his lips, Matt would have shouted at the top of his voice and so have informed a possible friend where he was.
Inasmuch as he could neither move nor make an audible sound, the prisoner lay quiet.
There was no cellar under this house with the green shutters, only a scooped-out place in the earth where possibly potatoes and other vegetables had been kept.
Presently the footsteps once more descended the stairs and could be heard leaving the house. Wily turned to Dhondaram with a deep breath of relief.
"That was a close call," he muttered. "If we'd been a second later gettin' down here——"
He bit off his words quickly. The door had slammed and the grating of a key could be heard.
"Maskee!" rumbled Dhondaram. "The door has been closed and locked, sahib. You left the key in the door."
"I was in too big a hurry to do anythin' else. As it was, Motor Matt came within one of layin' hands on me. See if he's got his wits back."
On hands and knees the Hindoo crept to Matt's side and peered into his face. Matt kept his eyes closed.