"Come to put the finishing touch, I suppose?
You'll hang for it, you infernal, treacherous brute; but that's a detail you border thieves don't seem to mind." It eased the tension to hurl verbal defiance at his murderer, and there was just the chance that the fellow might understand a little English.
But when his visitor stooped over him and deliberately cut his bonds, he was astounded into silence.
He waited dumfounded, and a muscular hand gripped his shoulder, holding him motionless.
"You'll be all right," a quiet voice said, "if you don't make a confounded fool of yourself." Phil gave a great start, and the hand that gripped him tightened.
Through the gloom he made out the outline of a grim, bearded face.
"Control yourself!" the quiet voice ordered.

"Do you think I've done this for nothing?
We are alone--it may be for five minutes, it may be for less.

Get out of your things--sharp, and let me have them." "Great Jupiter--Tudor!" gasped Phil.
"Yes--Tudor!" came the curt response.

"Don't stop to jaw.

Do as I tell you." He took his hand from Phil's shoulder and stood up, backing into the shadows.
Phil stood up, too, straightening himself with an effort.