Suddenly, Juve started. He recalled his talk that afternoon with Michel; the reference made to the affair of the docks in which the Beard and the Cooper were implicated. What if he had been drawn into a trap!
The detective's reflections were suddenly cut short by unusual and alarming sounds.
He fancied he heard the shrill blast of a whistle, followed by the rush of footsteps and a collision of empty barrels.
Juve held his breath and crouched down under the shed in which he stood; he thought he saw the outline of a shadow passing slowly in the distance. Juve was stealthily following in its tracks when he caught a significant click.
"Two can play at that," he growled between his teeth, as he cocked his revolver. The shadow disappeared, but the footsteps went on.
Disguising his voice he called out: "Who goes there?"
A sharp summons answered him, "Halt!"
Juve was about to call upon his mysterious neighbour to do likewise, when a report rang out, at once followed by another. Juve saw where the shots came from. His assailant was scarcely fifteen paces from him, but luckily the shots had gone wide.
"Use up your cartridges, my friend," muttered Juve; "when your get to number six, it will be my turn."
The sixth shot rang out. This was the signal for Juve to spring forward. Leaping over the barrels, he made for the shadow which he espied at intervals. All at once he gave a cry of triumph. He was face to face with a man.