CHAPTER VII.
THE RAIN OF BOMBS.
The boys in silence watched the secret agent as he further displayed his gratification over the news conveyed in the telegram by snapping his fingers and slapping his knees, completing the performance by vigorous puffing of a big black cigar, of which brand he always carried a plentiful supply.
Billy and Henri were just aching to learn more about the reported capture of Anglin (Ardelle), just where the "stone box" that held him was located, and how the "smiling sleuth" had happened to run into a net that he could not break through.
But they were well aware that it would not be a bit of use to seek the eagerly desired information in advance of Roque's disposition to give it, and they did not dare openly to show personal interest in the matter.
It was not until the master plotter had burned his cigar to inch measure that he thought to address the lads, fixing expectant gaze upon him.
"They jugged the fox in Alsace, on the way to his home den, and filled up, I suppose, with some choice morsels to regale the enemy."
"Maybe it's another case of 'now you see him and now you don't.'" It was Henri who plucked up courage to say this.
"Not this time," insisted Roque. "He is tightly in the toils, and never a chance to show his cunning. His course is run."
It soon became evident that the speaker proposed to be "in at the death," as fox chasers call the finish.