"Zen allons!" returned the owner of the house. "I haf done nozzing wrong, for I be ver' good Frenchmans, creole Frenchmans," he called over his shoulder.
"Something has happened, we can be jolly sure of that, matey," remarked Dick, moving along at Matt's side.
"That's an easy guess, Dick," said Matt. "The question is, what's happened?"
In the court the creole paused beside a black shape lying on the ground. It was a monkey, and the monkey, as could be seen at a glance, was dead. Its hairy arms were embracing the head of Obboney, holding it in such a position that the beady eyes stared upward into the faces of the boys.
"Wow-whoosh!" gulped Dick, starting back. "Keelhaul me if I ever saw anything like that before. Br-r-r! It sends the cold shivers up and down my spine. What do you make of it, Matt?"
Matt, an odd, uncanny feeling racing through him, bent down and examined the head.
"It looks like the head of some heathen idol, Dick," he replied. "What killed the monkey, Rigolette?" he asked.
"Zat I do not know, m'sieu," whimpered the creole. "Ze poor P'tit Joujou!"
"I smell something that's powerful strong," observed Dick, lifting his head and sniffing. "Don't you, mate?"
"Yes," said Matt, "and it's something that makes me dizzy. Where did that head come from, Rigolette?"