"So, so! You intend to show him Isaac's to-night?"
"Yes. Isn't it a good idea?"
The stout man shrugged his shoulders as if he had nothing to say on that point. The movement was essentially a Frenchy one and might have meant anything.
"Perhaps you would like to go with us," said Archie.
"What do you intend to do there?"
"Tell Mr. Roseleaf all the secrets."
Mr. Boggs stared at the speaker.
"Isaac won't let you," he answered, grimly.
"Won't he? He'll have to. Why, what's the odds? The boy won't give him away. And if he should—" His voice sank to a whisper.
Mr. Weil then proceeded to explain to his young friend that "Isaac's" was a peculiar affair, even for Gotham. It had entrances on two streets. Into one door went the most respectable of people, intent on getting an exceptionably good dinner, which was always to be had there, cooked in the French style and elegantly served. At that end of the house there were several dining-rooms that would hold forty or fifty guests, and several others made to accommodate family parties of six to twelve. If a couple happened to stray in and inquire for a room to themselves the head waiter informed them that it was against the rule of the house to serve a private dinner to less than four people.