Much to the astonishment of Gervais and Fred, and infinitely more to the surprise of the imitation huckster, the boys at a single bound jointly invaded the circle of light and grasped the elbows of their one-time Calais acquaintance.
"What sort of a hold-up is this?" cried Anglin, in startled recognition; "is it raining harumscarum aviators in Strassburg? By the great horn spoon, it's enough to make me believe I've got 'em to see you under this roof."
"I'll bet you knew that we blew in with Roque," proposed Billy, "for you have a way of seeing seven ways for Sunday."
"You win, laddy-buck, on the first statement, but I'm still up a stump on the proposition of how you got into this house."
"We were loafing," put in Henri, "started out on a pigeon hunt and got the drag when we mentioned it at your back door."
"Pigeon hunt?" Anglin wore a puzzled look.
Henri made quick explanation of the whole affair.
"Ha! I see," exclaimed Anglin. "By the way, you did not happen to mention your tower observations to anyone else, did you?"
This last query had a dead-earnest ring, with a rising note of anxiety.
"Not on your life," assured Henri; "in the first place, the big chief had no time to bother with us; we had no inducement to talk to anybody else, and, all in all, who'd have cared about the bird business, anyhow?"