Old Sophie turned once more to Foxy.
"You see, monsieur, that these lads do not wish to avail themselves of the kindness you offer them, so there is nothing more to be said, and I will wish you bon jour, Monsieur Renard."
Renard's face at this lost its mocking grin, and became dark and louring.
"And know you not, you stupid gipsy woman," he shrieked, "that I—Jules Renard—have a right to these children? And I swear to you—ugly old hag that you are—if you give them not up to me this very minute, I will bring the police from, the town, and then, not only will the lads have to come with me, but you will be punished for detaining them."
"Ah, Monsieur Renard, if it comes to talk of police, perchance you are not the only one who may have somewhat to say," remarked a deep, stern voice behind Foxy. And good old Jacques, backed by two of the troupe—stalwart nephews of his—appeared on the scene. "Listen, my friend; we have information that you, and two worthy companions of yours, were more or less concerned in a burglary not very far from here, and their names and the home of one of them are known to us. We are quiet people, Monsieur Renard, and we seek no quarrel with any; but another word from you, another threat against us or these children, and at once we give in our information at headquarters at St. Malo. And as for your treatment of the boys—there is a law in France to protect them, and to punish those who sin against them. Look to yourself, you fox by name and fox by nature. Seek not to meddle with these lads, or you may find yourself where you would rather not be."
The stern, uncompromising manner and words of the old gipsy seemed to make an impression on Renard, who cowered and cringed as the man was speaking. But he turned it off lightly, only saying as he turned away:
"That is all nonsense; you could not hurt me if you would. But of course I will not press this matter of the boys, if they do not wish to return to me. Keep them, if you like to do so, and I wish you joy of your bargain. You will repent it some day."
Once more bowing low, cap in hand, and a sardonic leer on his thin lips, Renard bade the gipsies good day, while, watching him till out of sight on the St. Malo road, Tad and Phil at last dared to breathe freely once more.
[CHAPTER XVI]
TAD HARDENS HIS HEART