Billy was first inclined to doubt the identity of their taskmaster, who a couple of hours ago was a far cry from being in the glass of fashion. Never before had the boys seen him in that sort of rig.
"You're dead right, Henri, it is the old scout. He's a corker, sure!"
This note of admiration had scarcely sounded when Roque was joined by a slender, wiry individual, also set up as a swell, with a shock of sandy hair, and sporting a monocle.
The fellow with the quizzing glass had apparently moved to get a better view of the singer, as well as to get in touch with the secret agent.
"Wonder if that's the man who spotted Anglin on the parade ground at Hamburg?"
"Don't let your imagination run away with you, Henri," advised Billy, who in speaking was careful not to indicate that his attitude was anything but careless.
The sandy-haired man was taking the same precaution, but Henri, nursing the idea that would not down, was more and more impressed with the belief that the elegant figure was seeking the measure and not the music of the warbler at the other end of the room.
If the singer had sized up the situation, it had not affected his rendering a bit of light opera that was just then exciting an encore. There was nothing at all the matter with his German or with his voice.
Nobody apparently was more delighted than Roque, and he appeared to be expressing his opinion to the wiry listener beside him.