His hands were tied, not roughly, but surely.

In all this commotion, not a whisper, not a voice; only heavy breathing.
Then one of the three whistled.

A minute or two after a closed carriage came into the Krumerweg, and Carmichael was literally bundled inside.
His feet were now bound.

Two of his captors sat on the forward seat, while the third joined the driver.

Carmichael could distinguish nothing but outlines and shadows.