“I’d like to speak to you a minute,” said a low voice almost in his ear.
CHAPTER II.
A WILLING TOOL.
Charbonde found himself facing a rather undersized youth of about the age of the two who had just left him. The newcomer had furtive, rat-like eyes, and a sharp face filled with a general expression of low cunning.
“Who are you?” demanded Charbonde. “I don’t know you.”
“I know you don’t,” responded the other easily, “and yet, I may be able to help you.”
“Bah!” began the foreign agent, trying to shake off the hand laid on his arm.
“Wait till you hear what I have to say,” resumed the other eagerly. “I hate those two blue-jackets who have just left you.”
A new light suddenly shone in Senor Charbonde’s eyes. He began to regard the furtive-looking youth with more interest.