“You understand the foreign make?”
It would evidently have been a sore disappointment to the eager proposer if the answer were contrary to his hope.
“They all look alike to us,” assured Henri.
“Glorious! It is but the one thing, to put together these fine birds, to fly them to Paris, and when they are there, so you are there. What benefit for all. Gilbert! Gilbert!”
Responding to the call of the excitable host, a stocky built youth with a shock of coal-black hair of such length that it mixed with his eyebrows, and who had evidently been awaiting the result of the conference upstairs, sauntered through the doorway.
“For what would you take him?”
Billy thought that he would not “take him” at any price for beauty, but he politely guessed:
“Artist?”
“Ah! That is it—he is one artist like yourselves—he is the great scout of the air. Gilbert LeFane of Rouen.”
“I fear it is too much honor, monsieur, that you have bestowed upon me. I but serve.”