Scarcely had Dick spoken when the tall boy flung himself forward. The pair grappled, and a moment later both went down, with Dick on top.
"Hit him, Dick, don't let him get the best of you!" cried Powell, and an instant later found himself tackled by Pender and Jackson. For the moment Ben Hurdy, who had remained silent during the most of the talk, did nothing, but then he ran forward, and watching his chance, kicked Dick in the side of the head with his foot.
The quarrel was now on in earnest, and in the midst of the melee a burly waiter came rushing from below, demanding to know what was the matter.
"A pair of spies!" shouted Pender. "Help us to give them a sound thrashing, Pat."
"Sure, Oi will that!" was the answer, and the waiter joined in the attack on Dick and Powell.
It was with a mighty effort that Powell managed to throw off his assailants. Then he leaped for the window, reached the ladder, and fairly slid to the ground.
"Let up on Dick Rover!" he called, when safe. "If you don't, I'll rouse the constable and have somebody locked up."
"Confound him!" muttered Rockley. "We had better dust out. If he calls a constable the jig will be up."
With a parting kick at Dick he rushed down the back stairs to the resort, and unlocked the door. Taking care that Powell should not see him, he darted into the gathering darkness.
Ben Hurdy followed Rockley, and a moment later Pender and Jackson did the same. Then Flapp came staggering down the stairs, holding his nose, from which the blood was flowing freely.