A momentary panic is upon them.

Philander is shrewd enough to know this will not last, and he does not attempt to pursue them.
Upon finding that for the time being the scene is left to him, and that he is the master of the situation, the professor bends down to free his companion from the noose that binds his arms.
Already has John managed to gain a sitting posture, as the fellow at the other end of the rope forgets to pull steadily upon it in his alarm at the new phase of affairs.
Before he can collect his wits, and once more stretch the line, Philander's keen blade of Damascus steel is pressed against the rope, and as it comes taut it instantly separates.
This is enough for John, who has now gained his feet, and throws aside the entangling loop.
His tumble has had a queer effect on the young doctor; usually cool and cautious, he has been transformed into a Hotspur; there is a sudden desire for revenge.
In his hand he holds a cudgel, which he snatched from the street as he arose.

It is the spoke of a wheel belonging to some light vehicle, and which no doubt one of the assailants carried.
With this flourishing about his head, Doctor Chicago leaps in among the Maltese and belabors them right and left.
As Philander, seeing what is going on, and knowing his assistance would be appreciated, springs to his side, the dusky sons of Malta break and run.
They realize, perhaps, that they have waked up the wrong customers, and immediate flight is the only thing that will save them from the result of their impetuosity.
The two Americans make a pretense of pursuing them, but truth to tell their course really lies in an altogether different direction, and, as if by mutual consent, they suddenly turn right about face.
Taking advantage of the enemy's discomfiture, they are enabled to make good their escape, and presently reach the vicinity of the hotel, rather out of breath, and looking somewhat the worse for their strange adventures.
Professor Sharpe has been glowing with pride and satisfaction up to the moment they reach the caravansary, then all of a sudden he seems to collapse.
A sound comes from a window above; a clear, sibilant sound; a human voice uttering one word, but investing it with a volume of reproach beyond description.
That word: "Philander!" The doughty little professor, who has proved himself as brave as a lion in the face of actual and overwhelming danger, now shows positive signs of flunking.

He clutches the arm of his fellow-adventurer, and whispers: "John Craig, remember your solemn promise." "Never fear; I'll stand by you, professor." "Philander Sharpe!" This time the inflection is more positive and acrid.

It is no longer a tone of plaint and entreaty, but touches the Caudle lecture style.