“What’ll you do, Frank?” asked the Virginian.
“Nothing; simply wait for developments.”
“You must be getting rather tired of this. Here, we were just saying we’d have a peaceful, jolly time here in Paris, and right on top of it the fun begins. Why should you be in danger here? Harris will not trouble you, and Brattle is in London. You are practically a stranger in a strange city. I think it’s rot! I don’t take any stock in it.”
“Whether you take any stock in it or not, you must confess that it is rather odd.”
“It couldn’t be a joke? You don’t suppose Browning——”
“I thought of that, but it doesn’t seem likely. I’ll wager that Bruce is sleeping off the excitement of last night.”
The more they talked about it, the more mystified they became, till, at last, they gave it up. Frank put the paper in his pocket, and they continued their careless stroll back to the hotel.
CHAPTER IV.
BRUCE ANGRY.
It was high noon when they reached the Place Vendome, having taken their time in returning. As they approached the hotel, Browning came out, and stood on the marble steps, smoking a cigar. Rattleton began to grin as they drew near, and the big fellow scowled blackly at them. They took off their hats, and saluted him, with mock courtesy.