“I was afraid you chaps wouldn’t turn up,” he said, waving his hand. “Come along; I want to hear about that trip,” and his tone grew imperious, as if he were accustomed to having his commands obeyed.
The visitors, nothing loth, sprang quickly up the steps.
As they passed an open window, the sound of voices floated out. Apparently a rather animated discussion was in progress, and the lads exchanged furtive glances.
George Clayton, too, seemed interested. He paused for an instant; then, with a shrug of his shoulders, led the way toward a handsome stable and garage in the rear.
“I’ve got a workshop there,” he explained, “though it’s precious little work I do.”
“Greek workshop?” asked Joe, with a grin.
George looked at him quizzically.
“Smart—very smart boy,” he said. “I see your education has been attended to. Yes, everything Greek, here—except the automobile. Uncle Dan’s got a hobby for Greek stuff.”
As they entered the stable a short, slight man, with a dark, flowing moustache, looked up in surprise.
“Ma foi!” he exclaimed. “Master George, how you scare me—so many peepuls. Does monsieur, your uncle, want the automobile this afternoon?”