The turban was merely a long strip of twisted cloth, and there were two or three yards of it—enough for both his wrists and ankles.
Barely was the tying finished when McGlory drove Wily into the room with his own six-shooter.
"Talk about this, friends," laughed McGlory. "Wily Bill fights with the Hindoo, and has the tuck about all taken out of him. I snatch his revolver, and then we come out from under the floor, Wily in the lead and acting real peaceable. You've caught Dhondaram, too. Everything's lovely, eh?"
"All serene," answered the Englishman.
He had removed his coat and was binding his handkerchief about his arm.
"Twomley captured Dhondaram, Joe," said Matt, "and did it alone."
"Getting stabbed for his pains," added Burton.
"A scratch," was Twomley's cool response. "How could you expect me to do a thing like that without getting a nick or two? A pretty show altogether. And it might have been a good deal worse."