"I just wanted to see how late it was," went on the one who had apparently spoken first. "Sorry to trouble you," he added, "but we're strangers here, and we seem to have lost our way."
"It's no trouble—if we can direct you," said the young millionaire. "We're strangers here ourselves."
"It's a little after eleven," announced Paul, looking at his watch as well as he could by the starlight. As he spoke one of the men made a sudden motion toward him.
"Not him! The other!" some one exclaimed sharply.
Before the three knew what was happening they were seized by the three men—seized and roughly mauled.
"Here! What does this mean?" demanded Dick, hotly, as he struck out vigorously.
"It's a hold-up!" yelled Innis. "Lay into 'em, fellows!"
"Let go of me!" insisted Paul, as he swung himself loose from his antagonist and dealt him a stinging blow that staggered the fellow.
The man, with a smothered exclamation, recovered himself, and rushed back at Paul. In the meanwhile Innis and his assailant were having a tussle. As for Dick, after that first outcry, he had held his voice, but he was struggling desperately with the man in the darkness. He could feel hands moving over his body, inserting themselves in his various pockets.