“Friends of Jean Garnier,” replied Georges briefly.

Jean was immediately on his feet and approached the questioner.

“Yes, they are friends of mine,” he said, “and, as true Apaches, they love gold better than anything else.  What have you to say about it?” and his hand slipped to his belt.

It was plain to Hal and Chester that the man was not frightened by this show of hostility, for he smiled slightly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, nothing at all,” he said.  “What are one or two Apaches more or less?  You are all of the same breed.”

He turned his back on Jean and sat down.  Producing a monogramed cigarette case he opened it, extracted a cigarette, and lighted up.  He paid no further heed to those about him.

Hal and Chester, out of the tail of their eyes, surveyed him critically.  The man had now removed his overcoat and the lads saw that his clothes were neatly pressed and of good texture.  A diamond glistened in his tie.  Plainly he was no Apache.

Georges, in the meantime, had been busy.  He aroused several of the apparently sleeping men, spoke a few words to them, and the latter hurried away.  Some minutes later they returned, and after them came others.  These drifted in gradually now and slunk into chairs.  When the supply of chairs had been exhausted newcomers sat on the floor.

Soon the room was full to overflowing.

The man who had accosted Hal and Chester now threw away his cigarette and once more approached the lads.  Jean, perceiving this, also left his chair and came forward.

The man whom Hal and Chester surmised was some sort of a lieutenant of the Apache chief, addressed them.

“Do you know what we are here for?” he asked.

“No,” said Hal.

Chester also shook his head.

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the man.  “We are here to make money.  The President is sought by the Germans, and we are to see that he is delivered safely into their hands.  For this each man is to receive a handful of German gold.  Now, it makes little difference whether you are with us or not.  If you are with us, all right—­we can use a few more men.  If not, you will never leave here alive.”

Before either Hal or Chester could reply Jean stepped forward.

“Of course they are with us,” he said, thrusting his face close to that of the lads’ questioner.

Calmly the man extended one hand, placed it squarely over Jean’s face and shoved him violently backward.

“This,” he said quietly, “is none of your business.  So keep out.”

The little man uttered a cry of rage and made as if to draw a knife; but, apparently thinking better of it, returned to his chair and subsided.

The man turned to Hal.

“Are you with us?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Hal.

“And you?” turning to Chester.

“Yes.”

There came a commanding knock on the door.  Georges sprang forward and flung it wide, and there strode into the room a tall, slender man, in evening dress, shining top hat and white kid gloves.  A black mask covered his face.