The three Francoises, without withdrawing their gaze from their prisoner, consulted in harsh whispers. It was a brief consultation, but it was long enough for Van Vernet to decide upon his course of action.
“Now then, my bogus dark lantern,” began Franz, who had evidently been chosen spokesman for the trio, “what’s yer business here?”
“Why don’t you begin at the beginning?” retorted Vernet, scornfully. “You have not asked who I am.”
“Umph; we’ll find out who ye air—when we want to. We know what ye air, and that’s enough for us just at present.”
“Might I be allowed to ask what you take me for?”
“Yes; a cop,” retorted Franz, decidedly. “Enough said on that score; now, what’s yer lay?”
“I suppose,” began Vernet, mockingly, “that you didn’t hear the little conversation between that nice old gent there and myself?”
“Look here,” said Franz, with an angry gesture, “don’t fool with me. Ef you’ve got any business with me, say so.”
“Don’t bully,” retorted Vernet, contemptuously. “You were not asleep when I entered this room.”
Franz seemed to hesitate and then said: “S’posin’ I wasn’t, wot’s that got to do with it?”