“Well,” Alex insisted, “we’d better stay here and see where he goes, anyway. If we can locate the fellow now, we can go after him any time.”
“Then I guess we can go after him any time,” Case chuckled, “because he’s heading for that eating house with the tin fish sign in front of it.”
“Then here we go for the tin fish,” Alex declared, and in five minutes, they were seated at a little table in an alcove separated only by a heavy cloth curtain from the main room of a third-rate French restaurant.
When a waiter appeared they gave their orders and sat watching the main room through the folds of the curtain.
“There!” Alex finally said in a whisper. “He’s coming in.”
“Yes,” grunted Case, “and he’s got a dozen wharf rats with him. I guess they’ve got us in as neat a trap as one boy ever set for another!”
[CHAPTER IX—A BUSY NIGHT IN QUEBEC]
“I don’t understand,” Alex said, peering through the curtain, “why he should want to do anything to us. Perhaps he won’t notice us at all.”
“Don’t you ever think he won’t,” grinned Case. “Didn’t I truss him up like a hen in the cabin and threaten to arrest him, and didn’t he declare that he would shoot me if he ever got a chance? Don’t you believe he’ll let us get out of here without trouble!”
“Oh, well,” Alex replied, “if he starts anything we’ll get out all right in spite of him, and in spite of his wharf rats.”