“Or that and worse,” said Dick significantly,

“I reckon I have a right to all of your money, Dick Rover.”

“I don’t see how you make that out, Baxter.”

“Years ago your father robbed mine out of the rights to a rich gold mine in the United States.”

“That’s your side of the story.  I claim, and so did my father, that the mine was ours.”

“It’s a falsehood.  The mine was discovered by my fattier, and if everything had gone right he would have had the income from it.”

“This is ancient history, Baxter.  Come to business.  What do you intend to do with us?”

“We intend to make money out of you,” was the answer, given with a rude laugh.

“In what manner?”

“First you will have to answer a few questions.”

“Zat ees it,” put in Captain Villaire.  “How mooch morlish you bring wid you from America?”

“We didn’t bring much,” answered Randolph Rover, who began to smell a mouse.

“How mooch?”

“About two hundred pounds.”

“Humph, a thousand dollars!” sneered Baxter.  “That won’t do at all.”

“You must haf brought more!” cried the French brigand angrily.

“Not much more.”

“You leave zat in Boma, wid ze bankers, eh?”

“Yes.”

“But you haf von big lettair of credit, not so?”

“Yes, we have a letter of credit,” answered Randolph Rover.  “But that won’t do you any good, nor the money at the banker’s neither.”

“Ve see about zat, monsieur.  Proceed,” and Captain Villaire waved his hand toward Dan Baxter.

“This is the situation in a nutshell, to come right down to business,” said the former bully of Putnam Hall coolly.  “You are our prisoners, and you can’t get away, no matter how hard you try.  Captain Villaire and his men, as well as myself, are in this affair to make money.  The question is, what is your liberty worth to you?”

“So you intend to work such a game?” demanded Dick.

“That’s the game, yes.”

“Well, I shan’t pay you a cent.”

“Don’t be a fool, Dick Rover.  We are not to be trifled with.”

“Well, I haven’t any money, and that ends it.  You already have all I had.”

“Then you will have to foot the bill,” continued Dan Baxter, turning to Randolph Rover.

“If you value your liberty you will pay us what we demand.”

“And what do you demand?” questioned Mr. Rover.

“We demand twenty thousand dollars —­ ten thousand for the liberty of each.”

This demand nearly took away Randolph Rover’s breath.

“Twenty thousand dollars!” he gasped.  “It is —­ is preposterous!”

“Is it?  You are worth a good deal more than that, Mr. Rover.  And I am demanding only what is fair.”

“You shall never get the money.”

“Won’t we?”

“Never!”

“Perhaps you’ll sing a different tune in a few, days —­ after your stomachs get empty,” responded Dan Baxter, with a malicious gleam in his fishy eyes.  “So you mean to starve us into acceding to your demands,” said Dick.  “Baxter, I always did put you down as a first-class rascal.  If you keep, on, you’ll be more of a one than your father.”