Before the valet could give any help, another man appeared from somewhere and knocked him senseless with some heavy weapon—perhaps a revolver, although he could not be sure.
“Would you know that yacht if you saw it again?” asked the detective.
“I am almost sure I should,” was the quick reply.
“Good! What is your name?”
“Phillips, sir.”
“Now, Phillips, what became of Prince Marcos after that, so far as you know?”
“I came to my senses again, and staggered to the window, because I saw that the prince had gone from the room. Down in the garden two of the men were carrying him to the waterside, where a skiff was tied up to the private landing.”
“And they took Prince Marcos to the yacht in that skiff?”
“That’s what I suppose. I didn’t see it, because they caught me when I went out of the house—to help the prince.”
“You did that, Phillips?” interposed the girl. “That was very brave of you.”