“Keep cool, ‘Pouf,’” said Joe, with a grin. “It pays.”
“Von leetle minute, Monsieur George. I stay here last night; I stay here this morning; and ma foi, you come! You leave these scamps now—you——”
“Cut it out, Pierre,” broke in George, with an amused glance at the others. “Is my uncle in town?”
“Yes, Monsieur George—at a hotel. You come?”
“Better go,” counseled Redfern.
“Saire, you say nothing to him. I call you von scamp. I no afraid of you. In la belle France, I would my glove throw in your face—so!” And Pierre waved his arm threateningly.
“Cool off,” advised Joe.
“Listen, Pierre”—George spoke in an emphatic tone—“you have made a mess of things by your stupid meddling. Not another word. We’re all of us going to see Uncle Dan right now.”
George abruptly turned on his heel, and started off in the direction of the hotel, while Pierre, with a look of amazement, promptly fell in the rear of the little group.
When they arrived at the hotel they found that Colonel Ellison was out.