"Who are you and what do you want here?"
Armitage shook his head; and replied in English:
"I do not understand."
The man struck a series of matches that he might scrutinize his captive's
face, then ran his hands over Armitage's pockets to make sure he had no
arms. The big fellow was clearly puzzled to find that he had caught a
gentleman in water-soaked evening clothes lurking in the area, and as the
matter was beyond his wits it only remained for him to communicate with
his master. This, however, was not so readily accomplished. He had
reasons of his own for not calling out, and there were difficulties in
the way of holding the prisoner and at the same time bringing down the
men who had gone to the most distant room in the house for their own
security.
Several minutes passed during which the burly Servian struck his matches
and took account of his prisoner; and meanwhile Armitage lay perfectly
still, his arms fast numbing from the rough clasp of the stalwart
servant's legs. There was nothing to be gained by a struggle in this
position, and he knew that the Servian would not risk losing him in the
effort to summon the odd pair who were bent over their papers at the top
of the house.
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