Before them, in the middle of the road, a light was being slowly swung backwards and forwards. Lane brought the car to a standstill. He had scarcely done so when they were conscious of the sound of footsteps all around them. The arms of both men were seized from behind. They were addressed in guttural French.
"Messieurs will be pleased to descend."
"What the—what's wrong?" Lane demanded.
"Descend at once," was the prompt order.
By the light of the lantern which the speaker was holding, they caught a glimpse of a dozen white faces and the dull gleam of metal from the firearms which his companions were carrying. Hunterleys stepped out. An escort of two men was at once formed on either side of him.
"Tell us what it's all about, anyhow?" he asked coolly.
"Nothing serious," the same guttural voice answered,—"a little affair which will be settled in a few minutes. As for you, monsieur," the man continued, turning to Lane, "you will drive your car slowly to the next turn, and leave it there. Afterwards you will return with me."
Richard set his teeth and leaned over his wheel. Then it suddenly flashed into his mind that Mr. Grex and his daughter were already amongst the captured. He quickly abandoned his first instinct.
"With pleasure, monsieur," he assented. "Tell me when to stop."
He drove the car a few yards round the corner, past a line of others. Their lights were all extinguished and the chauffeurs absent.