“Do any of you speak English?” Dick asked.
“I do,” one of them said.
“We landed five minutes ago from that craft,” continued Dick, “and as we came across we were attacked by a band of ruffians. An Englishman, one of our party, is missing.”
“Whose bodies are these?” the watchman asked, raising his lantern and pointing to them.
“Perhaps Mr. Thorndyke is among them,” Dick Chetwynd said.
The fallen figures were examined by the light of the lanterns. Mark was not among them. The watchmen uttered an exclamation of astonishment as they looked at the men's faces.
“What did you strike them with?” the one who spoke first asked.
“Struck them with our fists, of course,” Gibbons replied. “They will do well enough; you need not bother about them, they will come round again presently. The question is, Where is Mr. Thorndyke?”
The whole of the lookers on had dispersed, each fearing that he might be charged with taking part in the outrage.
“This is a very serious matter,” Chetwynd said. “We have every reason to believe that the attack was premeditated, for the gentleman who is missing was known to have some valuables on him; all these fellows ought to be taken and locked up and made to give an account of themselves. We are going to the Hotel d'Hollande where you can find us at any time. I dare say some of these scoundrels are known to you, and that may give you a clew as to where Mr. Thorndyke is.