Now that he had piloted them to safety Jean took no further thought of the boys, but himself dropped into a chair, propped his feet up, lighted a cigarette and followed Georges' example.
Hal and Chester also sank into chairs and did likewise, both, however, keeping one eye open.
Directly Jean sat up and from his pocket produced a pack of cigarettes, which he extended to Hal.
"Smoke?" he said laconically.
Hal was in a quandary. He was not a smoker himself, yet he realized that the Paris Apache who was not a victim of nicotine was indeed a scarce article. But he muttered to himself, as he selected a cigarette and passed the pack on to Chester:
"Here is where smoking a cigarette may save our lives."
Chester's mind followed along on this course, and, after passing the pack back to Jean, and accepting a match, both lads lighted up in most approved fashion.
The wants of his guests thus attended to, Jean left them to their own thoughts, and gave them no further notice.
The Apache is not a talkative man, and therefore there was not the sound of a human voice to break the death-like stillness of the foul-smelling den. For perhaps an hour and a half all sat without so much as moving.
Suddenly the stillness was shattered by a resounding knock on the door by which the lads had so recently entered—three light taps, followed by a single loud tap. Immediately Georges was upon his feet again, and unlocked and unbarred the door and peered out. Then he threw wide the door and another man entered the room.