"You may have recovered the papyrus, Alfieri, but it is of no value to you. Name of an Italian dog! I have outwitted you even now!" While kneeling to pinion the footpad's arms behind his back, thus rescuing Tagg from a professor of the savate, Dick tried to guess von Kerber's motive in hurling such an extraordinary taunt after one of his runaway adversaries, and in French, too, whereas the other had an Italian name, and, in all likelihood, spoke only Italian. Was this Alfieri the man who "hated" von Kerber--who "brought a very serious charge" against him? But Royson was given no time for consecutive thought. The Baron, breathing heavily, and seemingly in pain, came to him and said, in the low tone of one who does not wish to be overheard: "Let your prisoner go, Mr. King. I am all right, and everlastingly obliged to you, but I do not wish to be detained in Marseilles while the slow French law gets to work. So let him go. He is nothing--a mere hireling, yes? And we sail to-morrow." CHAPTER IV 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?" "No, not of anything valuable. Why do you ask?" "Because you sang out to one of them, an Italian, I should judge--" "Ah, you heard that? You are, indeed, quick in an emergency. Can we go on, yes?" "Certainly. I will just lift our dazed friend into the victoria, and tell the _cocher_ to give him a glass of cognac at the first café he comes to."