The darkness, the uneven street, and his unfamiliarity with his surroundings, are all against him now, so that he cannot do himself justice.

Suddenly he misses his companion.  John was close beside him ten seconds before—­John, who is a sprinter from athletic education, and who could have distanced the professor with only half an effort had he wished, but who moderated his speed to conform with that of his less favored friend.

The shouts have continued all this while, proving that the citizens of Valetta have steadfastly pursued them with some dark purpose in view.

Just as soon as Philander Sharpe makes this discovery, his action is one that proves him a hero.

He stops in his tracks, and no longer keeps up his flight.

“Turn the other way, boys!  At ’em like thunder!  As Sheridan said at Cedar Creek:  ’We’ll lick ’em out of their boots,’” is the astonishing cry he sends forth, as he begins to travel over the back trail.

This speedily brings him upon the scene of action.  Several dark figures have come to a halt around a prostrate object.  They are the men of Valetta, who have organized this secret vendetta against all foreigners.

It is easy to understand why they thus halt.  John Craig is the recumbent, struggling figure on the roadway; John Craig, who has possibly been lassoed by some expert among the pursuers, and who kicks with the vim and energy of a free American citizen.

This Philander understands instantly, and also comprehending that he must do something very speedily, throws himself into the midst of the dusky Maltese thugs.

The advent of a wild-cat could not produce more astonishment and consternation than this sudden coming of the energetic little man.

He accompanies his assault with the most energetic movements of both 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.