"Nothing in particular," Fritz replied, returning his stare, calmly. "I only see vot you vas haff a pic-nig, und I come in to look on." "Then begone, sir, at once! I allow no loafers around here. Go, I say!" and then they passed on. Fritz did not go, however, but retained his position, in defiance. "Shorge Vashingdon made dis a free coundry, und I von'd go dil I gits ready," he muttered. It was not long, however, before he was hastily approached by a man, and that man no less a person than the same flashily attired individual who had taken the young woman, Madge, away from the hotel, at Atlantic City! "Hello! get out of this, you loafer!" he cried seizing Fritz by the shoulder, roughly. "How many times do you have to be told to go? The guv'nor said go--now, if you don't light out, I'll make your heels break your neck." "_Vil_ you, dough!" Fritz grinned, wrenching loose, and standing on the defensive. "Yoost you keep your hands off vrom me, Griffith Gregg, or I vil knock der whole top off your nose off." "What! you vagabond! you compare me with the smuggler's son? I'll thump your skull for that piece of impudence." And he was as good as his word, for, raising a stout cane he carried, he brought it heavily down upon the young detective's head. For a moment Fritz was nearly stunned, but he quickly recovered, and sprung at his assailant, pluckily. "Oh! you snoozer!" he cried, "I vil plack your eye mit plue, for dot." And he did deal the honorable's son two severe whacks between the eyes, in rapid succession, which had the effect to land him on his back on the ground. "Thump me on der head, vil you?" Fritz cried, standing over him, ready to give him another rap, if he attempted to rise. "I'll pet you a half-dollar you vil got left, on dot." "Let me up, you dastardly loafer!" young Greyville raved, not daring to rise under the existing circumstances. "I'll murder you, for this, I--I'll--" "Got your head proke, off you come mit your foolishness around me!" Fritz cried. "I'll let you oop, dough, ash I must go!" He saw a half a dozen of the village roughs coming toward the spot, and knew he was ill-prepared to battle with all of them. So with a few dextrous bounds he leaped away out of the yard, and ran swiftly down to the beach. Finding that they did not follow him, he soon after made his way up the street again, to the tavern, and went to the room which had been assigned him. "I'll pet der vil pe some droubles before I got t'rough mit dis pizness," he muttered, "but I vas der man who vil come oud der winner." He was soon off in a sound sleep, from which he, hours later, awakened, with a violent start. The scene was changed. He was not in the tavern, on the bed, but instead, was bound hand and foot, and lying in the bottom of a boat! CHAPTER VIII. ADRIFT.