There was not the slightest doubt that he recognized Vench, but no smile of welcome or pleasure showed. He stared for a long minute and then looked pointedly at his companion. The latter nodded and got up briskly, followed by Morro. Nothing was said to Vench, and in his bewilderment the little cadet spoke.
“Hold on, Morro. Don’t you remember me? I’m Vench, that went to school with you. Surely you remember me?”
Morro answered him not a word, but turning on his heel walked away, the other man close beside him. Cadet Vench stared at them in mingled astonishment and anger.
“Well,” exclaimed Jim, in a low voice. “His friend may be tickled to death to see him, but he doesn’t show it!”
For a moment Vench remained rooted to the spot and then he strode to their table.
“What in the world do you make of that?” he gasped, white with rage. “I was one of the best friends that fellow had in Paris. He said he’d never forget me as long as he lived.”
“He didn’t forget you,” said Don. “He didn’t want to know you. There is something strange about his being here. Let’s see which way they went.”
The three boys hurried out of the store and looked up and down the street. No one was in sight and they walked to the corner and looked in that direction. The two men had disappeared.
“I agree with you that there is something strange about his being here,” commented Vench on the way back. “And it must be something highly important to make Paul Morro pass me up like that. I think we’d do well to keep our eyes open from now on.”