Impelled by curiosity, he crept closer to the house. He was within six feet of the window, standing on the tip of his toes. Suddenly he felt himself pinioned from behind; his arms were gripped as in a vise, a hand grasped his throat and began to choke him, and a sharp knee was planted with terrific force in the small of his back. He made a gurgling sound as he went backward, but there was no opportunity for struggling. He recovered from the shock to find himself stretched at full length in the wet snow. Some one was sitting upon him, struggling to thrust a gag into his mouth; some one else was binding his hands and feet.
He could just distinguish, in the sickly moonlight and the dim rays of the candle from the kitchen, the faces of his assailants. One was the murderous looking Frenchman, the skipper of the Southern Cross, the other he took to be a common seaman.
Attracted by the scuffle, the French maid had thrust her head out of the window and was addressing the combatants in vigorous French. Neither then nor later did Madame de la Fontaine appear. When Frost was safely bound and gagged, Captain Bonhomme arose, said a few words to his companion, and disappeared into the farmhouse. Dan's guard searched him rapidly, confiscated his revolver and knife, and then resumed his seat upon his legs. Inside the kitchen Dan could hear the sounds of an animated French dialogue, in which he imagined from time to time that he detected the silvery tones of Madame de la Fontaine's voice. Perhaps fifteen minutes elapsed. Captain Bonhomme came out of the house, strode to the spot where Dan was lying, and addressed him in excellent English.
"Monsieur; for purposes which it is superfluous to explain, it is decided to extend to you for a while the hospitality of my good ship the Southern Cross—a hospitality, I may say, that your unceremonious eavesdropping has thrust upon you. I will release your feet; and then, monsieur, you follow my good Jean across the sands. If you are quiet, no harm shall come to you. If you resist, cher monsieur, it will be of painful duty that I entrust the contents of this revolver into—mais non! Vous comprenez, n'est-ce pas?—Bien!"
He gave a sharp order to the seaman. The handkerchief about Dan's ankles was untied, and he was roughly assisted to his feet.
"The snow is wet, eh! Yes, for the good wind is moist. Now, Allons!"
Jean led the way, and Dan, deciding that he had no choice in the matter, followed obediently. The captain brought up the rear. As they went out through the gate, Dan turned for a moment and looked back at the house. He could see the French maid still at the kitchen window. At the same moment Captain Bonhomme glanced back and ceremoniously raised his hat.
"Bonsoir, mam'zelle."
"Bonsoir, monsieur," was the sharp reply, and the window was lowered with a bang.
They went on in silence across the Dunes to the beach. There, drawn up above high water line, they found a skiff. The captain and Jean shoved off, sprang in, and the little boat plunged into the combing waves. They reached the Southern Cross without misadventure. The captain blew a call upon a boatswain's whistle. A rope was lowered and Jean made the skiff fast to the ladder at the schooner's side. The captain took out his revolver and held it in his hand, while Jean unloosed the cords that bound Dan's wrists.