“Oui, certainment. But he was harmless-looking fellow. He no would rob like the man that was here. Non, it would be impossible to teenk of eet.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” rejoined Tom dubiously. “Oh, by the way, was he smoking cigarettes?”
Old Joe knit his bushy eyebrows in deep thought.
“Oui, he was smoke. Certainment. Li’l yellow cigarettes he was smoke! Bah!”
“Then it was the same man for certain,” said Tom positively. “Look here.”
He indicated the stumps of yellow cigarettes scattered all about.
“Ah! You are right, mon garçon. Boosh! What a bad mans he must be! So you are follow him, eh? You teenk you catch him?”
“We certainly hope to, or at any rate to get close enough to him to put the authorities on the trail,” said Tom.
“But you are only two li’l boys.”
“Not so very little,” rejoined Tom, while he could not restrain a smile, for Joe Picquet himself was shorter than either of the Dacre boys.