A vigorous rubbing restored the circulation. A moment after he had slipped off the bandage which bound his eyes, taken the gag out of his mouth, and cut the cords round his ankles with his knife. An American who has not a bowie-knife in his pocket is no longer an American. But if Phil Evans had regained the power of moving and speaking, that was all. His eyes were useless to him—at present at any rate. The prison was quite dark, though about six feet above him a feeble gleam of light came in through a kind of loophole. As may be imagined, Phil Evans did not hesitate to at once set free his rival. A few cuts with the bowie settled the knots which bound him foot and hand. Immediately Uncle Prudent rose to his knees and snatched away his bandage and gag. “Thanks.” said he, in stifled voice. “Phil Evans?” “Uncle Prudent?” “Here we are no longer the president and secretary of the Weldon Institute. We are adversaries no more.” “You are right.” answered Evans. “We are now only two men agreed to avenge ourselves on a third whose attempt deserves severe reprisals. And this third is—” “Robur!” “It is Robur!” On this point both were absolutely in accord. On this subject there was no fear of dispute. “And your servant?” said Phil Evans, pointing to Frycollin, who was puffing like a grampus. “We must set him free.” “Not yet.” said Uncle Prudent. “He would overwhelm us with his jeremiads, and we have something else to do than abuse each other.” “What is that, Uncle Prudent?” “To save ourselves if possible.” “You are right, even if it is impossible.” “And even if it is impossible.” There could be no doubt that this kidnapping was due to Robur, for an ordinary thief would have relieved them of their watches, jewelry, and purses, and thrown their bodies into the Schuyllkill with a good gash in their throats instead of throwing them to the bottom of—Of what? That was a serious question, which would have to be answered before attempting an escape with any chance of success. “Phil Evans.” began Uncle Prudent, “if, when we came away from our meeting, instead of indulging in amenities to which we need not recur, we had kept our eyes more open, this would not have happened. Had we remained in the streets of Philadelphia there would have been none of this. Evidently Robur foresaw what would happen at the club, and had placed some of his bandits on guard at the door. When we left Walnut Street these fellows must have watched us and followed us, and when we imprudently ventured into Fairmount Park they went in for their little game.” “Agreed.” said Evans. “We were wrong not to go straight home.” “It is always wrong not to be right.” said Prudent. Here a long-drawn sigh escaped from the darkest corner of the prison. “What is that?” asked Evans. “Nothing! Frycollin is dreaming.”