Nerving himself to a more normal mood, he paused under one of the dark dragon trees that branched out above him, and, taking out his torch, turned in the direction of the door at the back of the temple.  It was unbolted as before, and the thought stirred faintly in him that it was slightly open, though only by a crack.  The more he thought of it, however, the more certain he grew that this was but one of the common illusions of light coming from a different angle.  He studied in a more scientific spirit the details of the door, with its rusty bolts and hinges, when he became conscious of something very near him—­indeed, nearly above his head.  Something was dangling from the tree that was not a broken branch.  For some seconds he stood as still as a stone, and as cold.  What he saw above him were the legs of a man hanging, presumably a dead man hanged.  But the next moment he knew better.  The man was literally alive and kicking; and an instant after he had dropped to the ground and turned on the intruder.  Simultaneously three or four other trees seemed to come to life in the same fashion.  Five or six other figures had fallen on their feet from these unnatural nests.  It was as if the place were an island of monkeys.  But a moment after they had made a stampede toward him, and when they laid their hands on him he knew that they were men.

With the electric torch in his hand he struck the foremost of them so furiously in the face that the man stumbled and rolled over on the slimy grass; but the torch was broken and extinguished, leaving everything in a denser obscurity.  He flung another man flat against the temple wall, so that he slid to the ground; but a third and fourth carried Fisher off his feet and began to bear him, struggling, toward the doorway.  Even in the bewilderment of the battle he was conscious that the door was standing open.  Somebody was summoning the roughs from inside.

The moment they were within they hurled him upon a sort of bench or bed with violence, but no damage; for the settee, or whatever it was, seemed to be comfortably cushioned for his reception.  Their violence had in it a great element of haste, and before he could rise they had all rushed for the door to escape.  Whatever bandits they were that infested this desert island, they were obviously uneasy about their job and very anxious to be quit of it.  He had the flying fancy that regular criminals would hardly be in such a panic.  The next moment the great door crashed to and he could hear the bolts shriek as they shot into their place, and the feet of the retreating men scampering and stumbling along the causeway.  But rapidly as it happened, it did not happen before Fisher had done something that he wanted to do.  Unable to rise from his sprawling attitude in that flash of time, he had shot out one of his long legs and hooked it round the ankle of the last man disappearing through the door.  The man swayed and toppled over inside the prison chamber, and the door closed between him and his fleeing companions.  Clearly they were in too much haste to realize that they had left one of their company behind.