The latter bowed politely and then sauntered toward the revolving door leading into the lounging section of the hotel, fingering a cigar as he proceeded.
Henri edged around nearer to the piano, the player of which was completing the program with a national air, the melody of many voices aiding the performance.
Billy had hardly realized the desertion of his chum when he saw that Roque had changed his position, and was standing nearest the door leading to the street. The secret agent shifted something from his hip to the sidepocket of his coat, and Billy caught the glitter of that something in the swift movement. The boy guessed then that there was trouble brewing.
In the meantime, Henri, in an innocent sort of way, pushed still closer to the pianist, who was hitting the high notes in fine style.
As he passed within a foot of the singer, now idly posing, with an elbow on the piano top, he, without turning his head, joined in the triumphant chorus, but changed two words at the climax, and "beat it" reached Anglin's ear.
The French sleuth never moved a muscle, and it was as if the warning had been passed to a man stone deaf.
Anyone posted, however, would have known that within an arm's length of Anglin was a wall switch which controlled the electric lights by which the room was so brilliantly illuminated.
Billy had just had the experience of being rather rudely thrust aside by a couple of burly troopers, who seemed inspired to get as quickly as possible into the very center of the select circle.
"Get him!"
As this command rang out the astonished pleasure seekers started a panic, as if an alarm of fire had sounded. There was a rush for every doorway, but every way of departure was blocked by stalwart guardsmen.