Eph knocked out and dazed—­among strangers!  That was the sole picture that appeared to Hal Hastings’s mind at that moment.

“He’s a friend of mine—­messmate, at that,” Hal declared, quickly.  “Where is the place?  Or, better still, can you take me to it?  I’ll reward you.”

“Oh, stow the reward, messmate,” replied one of the sailors.  “We fellers that foller seafighting for a trade have got to stand in together once in a while.  When I seen your friend knocked down I jumped in and floored the big rough that hurt your messmate.  We’d have brought your friend along, but we didn’t know just where to take him.”

It was hard for Hal to believe that clear-eyed, level-headed Eph Somers would go into any of the low drinking resorts of the town; but he thought it best not to ask any questions until he found young Somers.

After some two minutes of brisk walking the two sailors turned down into an alleyway.

“The place we’re going to is dark on the ground floor,” stated one of them.  “Don’t be afraid to go up a dark stairway, messmate.  We’ll be with you, anyway.”

“I don’t believe I’m afraid, thank you,” smiled Hal.

One of the sailors, stepping ahead, pushed door open, going in first.  Hal followed, the other sailor bringing up the rear.

Then, like a flash, Hal Hastings felt him self seized on that dark stairway, and a big hand held over his mouth.

Like a tiger Hal fought for a few moments.  As nearly as he could judge, in the dark, he had four assailants.  He was overborne, at last gagged and tied.

In the meantime Jack and Mr. Radwin had gone to the hotel dining room, to find that the last diners had departed, leaving only a few waiters who were arranging tables.

“No one here,” murmured Radwin “Then we’ll look through the billiard room, writing room and other places.  Young Somers must be with the party somewhere.”

Twenty minutes or more they spent in looking through the various public parts of the big hotel.  Then they returned to the lobby.  Radwin was limping, now, and looked uncomfortable.

“What’s the matter?” questioned Jack.

“A nail in my shoe hurts me,” lied the other, glibly, sinking into a chair.  “Benson, I reckon I’ll sit here a few minutes.  Then I’ll get to my room and call a bell-boy, to see if he can find some one to fix the shoe.”

“Too bad,” murmured Jack.  “But say, I’ll go back to the corner, and tell Hal, so he won’t be standing on the corner all night.”

With that Jack Benson walked briskly out.  Up at the next corner, however, instead of finding Hal, the young skipper was accosted by two sailors in United States naval uniform.

“I reckon your name’s Benson, messmate?” hailed one of the pair.

“I reckon it is,” nodded Jack, looking sharply at them.

“Got a bit of bad news for you, then,” added the first speaker.  “It ain’t so awful bad, though.  One of your friends—­Winter, I think his name was—­”