Despite his complete familiarity with the English language, Jack detected that the man spoke with a decided accent. A moment later he addressed one of the others in what seemed to the lads to be a corruption of German and some guttural dialect.
"You were on your way up the hill," the leader suggested. "Going any place in particular?"
"No; only looking for some breakfast," Jack answered, believing it would be best to seem conciliatory. "Why the reception committee and this rather unusual welcome?"
"Believe you've got some papers on you we'd like to borrow for a little time?" the leader of the gang replied.
"Papers?" Jack repeated, as though mystified. "Cigarette?"
"No kiddin', friend," the man replied gruffly. "You know what we mean. We won't ask you to come across now. We'll wait until we get indoors."
They were by now approaching a great rambling and seemingly almost completely abandoned and dilapidated house, which stood off upon a bleak cliff where it looked as though the first stiff gale would carry it away.
"That's our destination—or rather, yours," the ruffian informed them, seeing the youths gazing at the wrecked remains of the old structure.
Jack managed to catch the eyes of his companions for a second when their strange captors were not aware. He gave a quick wink indicative of the fact that they were to leave leadership to him. All showed that they understood.