“Gee! whilikins!” exclaimed Josh, whirling about; while Hanky Panky, taken completely by surprise, could only stand there and stare as though he imagined Rod had suddenly taken leave of his senses, for up to that moment Hanky had not entertained the slightest suspicion toward the man they were helping on his way.
Oscar apparently understood; at any rate he remained as motionless as though carved out of stone. His face went white, and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, but he knew better than to risk having his poor brains blown out by an incautious movement.
“Your game is up, my friend!” said Rod sternly. “I’ve been watching you send a message to some one with that handkerchief of yours. Don’t waste your breath to deny it. You have been trying to lead us into a trap, perhaps for the sake of helping your friend, Jules. Well, we are on to your game, and mean to block it. Josh!”
“On deck, Rod!” exclaimed the one addressed, cheerily, with a wide grin decorating his face; for it amused him to see how after all Rod had taken matters into his own hands, and turned the tables on the scoundrel.
“You’re getting to be a clever hand at playing the frisking act, Josh,” continued the leader of the trio; “suppose you look this chap over, and remove any deadly weapons you may find. I’ll keep him still, dead or alive, while you do it.”
“I beg of you to be careful, young M’sieu!” gasped Oscar, betraying his French origin in that unguarded moment; “I assure you I am not thinking of offering resistance; and it might be your finger it would slip, to my everlasting regret.”
Josh lost no time in commencing work. As Rod had said, of late the other had been having considerable experience at this sort of business, and boasted of being quite an expert.
“Whee! here’s a nasty looking gun, Rod!” he speedily announced.
“Hand it here, then, and I’ll take possession of it,” the other told him; “then keep on feeling in every pocket, Josh.”
“Some papers, Rod–letters they look like,” came another announcement presently.