arms and legs, and his shrill voice keeps time to the music.

As he holds the cimeter-knife in one hand, his movements are not without
certain painful accompaniments. The men fall back in dismay. 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.