Maynard fought with renewed fury, but what could he do against so many?
One seized him by either arm and shoulder, another grasped his kicking feet.
“Help! help! help! Thieves!” roared the victim, but his captor-carriers did not even attempt to stifle his cries—the surest way of proving that they had no reason to fear interference.
Hal’s first assailant now darted back into the doorway, unlocking a door, and making way for the squad to enter.
Still kicking and squirming, Hal Maynard was carried through the house and out into a courtyard at the rear.
Here he renewed his shouts, with no other effect than to make his captors smile maliciously.
At the rear of the yard a gate was unlocked.
Hal Maynard involuntarily crossed a second yard, after which those who carried him entered another house.
Here he was carried into one of the rooms, and unceremoniously dumped upon the floor.
“You stay there,” muttered he who appeared to be the spokesman, “unless you are foolish enough to try to escape.”