"Been stirring up the monkeys, have you, Fred?"
The fallen man raised himself on his elbow and made the air blue for a moment with his wrathful expressions.
"I'll fix you, you whelps," glaring at the sturdy youngsters who had bested him.
"Stow the threats, Fred," advised the cool-head, who had restored the pistol to his hip-pocket when he sized up the invaders as unarmed.
"What the devil brought you here?"
The newcomer put a snap in the question, but with no change of icy eye.
"What devil sent them here, you'd better ask?"
This suggestion from the battered Fred, who had again regained his feet.
"That will all come out under pressure," intimated the cool one. "As long as you chose to honor us with a visit," he added with quiet irony, "we must get properly acquainted. Show the young gentlemen into the parlor, Fred."
Billy would have started a debate there and then had he not been, as usual, stumped by the French language, which he only understood by fits and starts. He knew for sure, though, that he was in Queer Street, with this sudden shift from the regulation German talk he had been hearing since landing in the empire. It was up to Henri to set matters straight.