Unceremoniously he swung his captive over on his side,
bringing his neck and ankles in juxtaposition to the legs of that
substantial piece of furniture, the lounge.
His hands the first to be secured, and tightly, behind his back,
Anisty lay helpless, glaring vindictively the while gradually he
recovered consciousness and strength. Maitland cared little for
his evil glances; he was busy. The burglar's ankles were next
bound together and to the lounge leg; and, an instant later, a
brace of half-hitches about the man's neck and the nearest support
entirely eliminated him as a possible factor in subsequent events.
"Those loops around your throat," Maitland warned him curtly, "are
loose enough now, but if you struggle they'll tighten and strangle
you. Understand?"
Anisty nodded, making an incoherent sound with his swollen tongue.
At which Maitland frowned, smitten thoughtful with a new
consideration.
"You mustn't talk, you know," he mused half aloud; and, whipping
forth a handkerchief, gagged Mr. Anisty.
After which, breathing hard and in a maze of perplexity, he got to
his feet. Already his hearing, quickened by the emergency, had
apprised him of the situation's imminent hazards. It needed not
the girl's hurried whisper, "_The servants_!" to warn him of
their danger. From the rear wing of the mansion the sounds of
hurrying feet were distinctly audible, as, presently, were the
heavy, excited voices of men and the more shrill and frightened
cries of women.
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