Jean turned to the man who had admitted them and introduced the two lads with a flourish of his right hand.

“These, Georges,” he said, “are my friends, Hugo Choteau and Victor Doubet, who, but a few moments since, saved me from death.”

Georges’ only reply was a grunt.  Plainly he was little interested in the newcomers, as long as they were vouched for by Jean, and he showed no interest in Jean’s recent escape from death.  Apparently this was no novelty.  He resumed his seat at the table, and putting up his feet and drawing his hat even farther over his face, lighted a cigarette and settled himself in comfort and closed his eyes.

Now that he had piloted them to safety Jean took no further thought of the boys, but himself dropped into a chair, propped his feet up, lighted a cigarette and followed Georges’ example.

Hal and Chester also sank into chairs and did likewise, both, however, keeping one eye open.

Directly Jean sat up and from his pocket produced a pack of cigarettes, which he extended to Hal.

“Smoke?” he said laconically.

Hal was in a quandary.  He was not a smoker himself, yet he realized that the Paris Apache who was not a victim of nicotine was indeed a scarce article.  But he muttered to himself, as he selected a cigarette and passed the pack on to Chester: 

“Here is where smoking a cigarette may save our lives.”

Chester’s mind followed along on this course, and, after passing the pack back to Jean, and accepting a match, both lads lighted up in most approved fashion.

The wants of his guests thus attended to, Jean left them to their own thoughts, and gave them no further notice.

The Apache is not a talkative man, and therefore there was not the sound of a human voice to break the death-like stillness of the foul-smelling den.  For perhaps an hour and a half all sat without so much as moving.

Suddenly the stillness was shattered by a resounding knock on the door by which the lads had so recently entered—­three light taps, followed by a single loud tap.  Immediately Georges was upon his feet again, and unlocked and unbarred the door and peered out.  Then he threw wide the door and another man entered the room.

Now there was something in the appearance of this newcomer that set him somewhat apart from the other inmates of the den, and when he spoke his tones were much softer than the voices of the true Apache; but it carried an evil ring.

“The chief will be here within the hour,” he said to Georges.  “He desires that you have all here before he arrives.”

“It shall be done,” replied Georges, eying the newcomer with some disfavor because of his pomposity.

The newcomer walked across the room and sat down.  As he did so his eyes fell upon Hal and Chester, slouched back in their chairs.  Immediately he was on his feet.

“Who are these?” he demanded of Georges.  “Their faces are unfamiliar to me.”