“Schlickeisen,” read the Colonel; “a Swiss born at Steinbach, in the canton of Glarus, twenty-one years old. Father a priest.” He turned over another leaf.
“Wienersdorf, also a Swiss; born at Winterthür, in the canton of Zürich, twenty-three years old. Father a professor of natural philosophy.
“La Cueille, a Belgian, born at Cheratte, in the province of Liege, twenty-six years old. Father a miner in the coal mines of Jupille.
“Johannes, born at Padang, island of Sumatra; about thirty [[3]]years old. Father unknown. Mother the Niasian woman, Ma Troeni.”
The Colonel closed the book; he could obtain from it no further information.
“A curious affair,” he muttered, “and one that will cause endless trouble unless it should prove to be only a drunken brawl.”
Taking another large folio from his collection of books, he turned over a few pages and read:
“Schlickeisen and Wienersdorf were recommended at the registry to be educated as officers. They were subsequently dismissed from the college for taking part in the insurrection of the Swiss at Samarang. The one was a candidate for the bar, the other had finished his curriculum at the Realschule and had received his diploma as teacher of natural philosophy and chemistry. Both had studied at Zürich. Nothing seems to be known of La Cueille. He has said that he was once assistant to a gun-maker at Meester Cornelis, but had been dismissed for drunkenness. And Johannes, another of those Indian products of animal passion, whose birth is almost a misfortune to him.”
Thus far had the Colonel read and commented when a knock was heard and the sergeant again appeared. In correct military attitude he waited until his superior officer should interrogate him.
“Well, are they found?”