Lane brought the car to a standstill.

He had scarcely done so when they were conscious of the sound of footsteps all around them.

The arms of both men were seized from behind.

They were addressed in guttural French.
"Messieurs will be pleased to descend." "What the--what's wrong ?" Lane demanded.
"Descend at once," was the prompt order.
By the light of the lantern which the speaker was holding, they caught a glimpse of a dozen white faces and the dull gleam of metal from the firearms which his companions were carrying.

Hunterleys stepped out.