“It happens to be as you say,” admitted Renoux, smilingly. “A job for a ‘flic,’ is it not?”
“Shall I tell you what I know about those two men?—what I suspect?”
“I should be very glad——” But at that moment Soane came out of the saloon across the way, and Freund followed.
“May I come with you?” whispered Barres.
“If you care to. Yes, come,” nodded Renoux, keeping his clear, intelligent eyes on the two across the street, who now stood under a lamp-post, engaged in some sort of drunken altercation.
Renoux, watching them all the while, continued in a low voice:
“Remember, Barres, if we chance to meet again here in America, I am merely Georges Renoux, an architect and a fellow Beaux Arts man.”
“Certainly.... Look! They’re starting on, those two!”
“Come,” whispered Renoux.