"Mon Dieu!" he cried, his pasty face growing paler, and his blinking eyes opening wider in alarm. "Mon Dieu! You have come mooch too soon. Ze police will cast ze blow of an eye upon zem, ze alar-rm will sound, and Zip! away goes ze chance of winning by surprise."
"That's so," I exclaimed, with the accent of one overwhelmed at conviction of a lack of judgment. "I will bring my men in and march them up to the Council-room where they can lie hid till the hour comes."
"Non! non!" cried H. Blasius in alarm. "No one can go to ze Council-room. Zere is no Council-room." His old distrust had overcome the alcoholic enthusiasm with which he had received me, and his eyes blinked cunningly upon me. Then he gave an apprehensive glance at the door by which he had entered, and I was confirmed in the suspicion that it led to the rooms of the conspirators.
"Well, if you won't take me up, I must go by myself. My business must be laid before the Council at once." And I moved with determination toward the suspected door.
H. Blasius placed himself in the way with arms outstretched.
"Non--non!" he cried. "You can not entrez wizout ze mot d'ordre--ze password."
"Give it to me, then," I demanded. "You are delaying the Council's business."
He was overawed a little by my authoritative tone, but before he could bring his tongue to answer me, the barkeeper accidentally dropped a glass on the floor, and the men whom I had stationed at the door, mistaking the crash for the sounds of conflict, rushed in to my rescue.
"The Vigilantes!" cried the barkeeper in dismay, at the sight of the badges and the pick-handles.
"Mon Dieu! we are betrayed!" cried H. Blasius, whirling around with a step toward the door that led to the Council-room.