Hugh loomed through the rain as he spoke.
"That you, Nikka? We think we've got Tokalji's people rounded up, but we need you to talk to them. Has Toutou—"
"He's there."
Nikka pointed his knife to the heap of drab garments that had been the French "killer."
"Good for you!" exclaimed Hugh. "I'm glad he didn't get off. When you think of Uncle James and—that girl we saw—and I suppose others! What a beast!"
We splashed after him, Kara following Nikka like a dog. Wasso Mikali, his surviving young men, King and Watkins were guarding thirteen shivering Gypsies in the lee of the bachelors' quarters. In reply to questions, Tokalji told Nikka—and Kara, shamelessly throwing in her lot with us, corroborated him—that there had been fifteen of their band on the premises. A search of the courtyard disclosed two of them dead, together with one of Wasso Mikali's men. We bound the arms of the prisoners, most of whom were suffering from bullet-wounds or stabs, and marched them over to the House of the Married.
The one lantern was still flickering when we entered, and Betty rose to greet us.
"Thank God!" she said soberly as her eyes envisaged us all. "What did you do with Mrs. Hilyer?"
"Isn't she here?" asked Hugh.
"No. I don't know just when she left. There was a lot of firing, and I looked to where she had been sitting by her husband, and she was gone."