This thought wave was instantly merged into the sense of knowing:—
The coal heaver who had presented the soiled scrap of paper which summoned the young aviators to the twin towers on the day of the destruction of the war depot!
That face, though now clean of grime, was the same that had burned itself into the lad’s memory when the stirring message was delivered.
“I gave you the sign and you did not respond. Why?”
“Blest if I know what you mean,” Billy told the supposed silversmith.
“But it was to you that I was sent when the hour of need was near.”
“Now see here, for good and all, let me say that neither my chum nor myself has any knowledge of the inside workings about which you are trying to talk, and what’s more we don’t want to know anything about them. Mr. Roque showed us a lot, but I guess he stopped somewhere this side of the inner circle.”
Billy did not care to assume any new responsibility which might lead Henri and himself into some maze of mystery far beyond their depth.
The man addressed appeared to be puzzled at the boy’s reference to “Mr. Roque.” He evidently believed that Billy was fencing with him. “Kindly step into the store for a moment; I will not detain you long.”
Though both the boys had reached the same conclusion, that it was a sort of spider and the fly game, they impulsively followed the leader into the little shop.