A hoarse cry escaped the smuggler and he became excited as he noticed that most every one in the room overheard the remark.
Clara gave a suppressed shriek and sprang to her feet.
Quick to recover his composure the Frenchman put on his eyeglasses, stared at Harry coolly from head to foot, and exclaimed:
"Young man, haf you not mek a meestake?"
"No, indeed!" replied the boy, resolutely. "You are my man all right."
"Why, sair, I don't know you. I nevair saw you before een my life."
"Come—come. You can't cheek it out that way, La Croix."
"Monsieur, please let go my arm or I have ze vatairs throw you out of here!"
Harry's patience became exhausted.
He did not intend to mince matters, so he said: