"I believe I'd jolly well choke the breath out of him!" asserted Mr. Dorcliffe.
"That would betray the fact that we know the gang and the work that they're planning," Dave returned.
"Would it?" asked Mr. Dorcliffe, looking thoughtful. "Oh, I say! It's bally hard work to contend with such bounders. Why can't all men fight in the open?"
"Real men do," Dave answered. "The fellows we are trying to run down are not real men. Beings who can do wholesale murder for pay are bad beyond the comprehension of honest men."
"But we're not finding any one that we want to see," complained Sutton, another of the English party.
"I didn't expect to find that crew on parade," Dave replied, "and I think it extremely likely that none of them is now in Valetta or on the Island of Malta."
Then all fell silent, for the leaders of the party had turned in at one of the cafés most frequented by visitors.
There were but few people at the tables. Glancing across the room Dave felt a sudden throb of astonishment and disgust.
Hastily rising from a table was a young man who averted his face.
"There's the Count of Surigny!" whispered Dave to Whyte.