“Your guardian?”
Durant lifted his eyebrows, and he laughed. That laugh was an insult. It distinctly said: “You lie; you have no guardian.”
“Exactly,” bowed the boy, feeling the hot blood coming to his cheeks, yet retaining his composure, “I am traveling with my guardian, and he——”
That hateful laugh cut him short.
“You do look young,” said Durant, “but looks in your case are deceptive. I fancy you are not the boy you appear to be.”
“You are mistaken, sir. It is plain that you are seeking trouble, and Monsieur Bornier is not the man to see one of his visitors insulted here. Monsieur Bornier, I will go. I thank you.”
Durant made a spring. He planted himself squarely in the small doorway.
“You will not hurry,” he said. “You cannot go!”