VON KERBER EXPLAINS
"You've left your trademark on this chap," broke in Tagg. He was bending over a prostrate body, and the cab-driver was bewailing the plight of his voiturette.
Royson righted the carriage; then he lifted the man to a sitting position, and listened to his stertorous breathing. The blow had been delivered on that facial angle known to boxers as the "point," while its scientific sequel is the "knock-out."
"He is all right," was the cool verdict. "He will wake up soon and feel rather sick. The general effect will be excellent. In future he will have a wholesome respect for British sailors."
He laid the almost insensible form on the road again, pocketed the revolver, which he found close at hand, and gave an ear to von Kerber's settlement with the cocher. The latter was now volubly indignant in the assessment of damages to his vehicle, hoping to obtain a louis as compensation. When he was given a hundred francs his gratitude became almost incoherent.
The Baron cut him short, stipulating sternly that he must forget what had happened. Then he turned to Royson.
"If you think we can leave the fellow on the ground with safety, I want to reach the yacht," he said.
"Are you wounded?" inquired Dick.
"Slightly. Those scoundrels did not dare to strike home. They knew my papers would identify them."
"But they robbed you?"