[Illustration: "In another moment, the two were upon the floor, Franz Francoise uppermost!"--page 210.] The three Francoises, without withdrawing their gaze from their prisoner, consulted in harsh whispers. It was a brief consultation, but it was long enough for Van Vernet to decide upon his course of action. "Now then, my bogus dark lantern," began Franz, who had evidently been chosen spokesman for the trio, "what's yer business here?" "Why don't you begin at the beginning?" retorted Vernet, scornfully. "You have not asked who I am." "Umph; we'll find out who ye air--when we want to. We know _what_ ye air, and that's enough for us just at present." "Might I be allowed to ask what you take me for?" "Yes; a cop," retorted Franz, decidedly. "Enough said on that score; now, what's yer lay?" "I suppose," began Vernet, mockingly, "that you didn't hear the little conversation between that nice old gent there and myself?" "Look here," said Franz, with an angry gesture, "don't fool with _me_. Ef you've got any business with me, say so." "Don't bully," retorted Vernet, contemptuously. "You were not asleep when I entered this room." Franz seemed to hesitate and then said: "S'posin' I wasn't, wot's that got to do with it?" "If you were awake, you know my errand." "Look here, Mister Cop,--" Franz handled his pistol as if strongly tempted to use it,--"we'd better come to an understandin' pretty quick. I am kinder lookin' for visits from chaps of your cloth. I come in here tired, and a little muddled maybe, and flop down to get a snooze. Somethin' wakes me and I get up, to see--you. I'm on the lay for a 'spot,' an' I've seen too many nigs to be fooled by yer git-up. So I floor ye, an'--here ye air. Now, what d'ye want with me?" "My good fellow," said Vernet, with an inconsequent laugh, "since you have defined your position, I may, perhaps, enable you to comprehend mine. Frankness for candor: First, then, I am not exactly a cop, as the word goes, but I am a--a sort of private enquirer." "A _detective_!" hissed Mamma; while Papa turned livid at the thought the word "detective" always suggested to his mind. "A detective, if you like," responded Vernet, coolly. "A _private_ detective, be it understood. My belligerent friend, you may be badly wanted for something, and I hope you'll be found by the right parties, but you're not in my line. Just now you would be an elephant on my hands. You might be an ornament to Sing Sing or Auburn, if I had time to properly introduce you there, but I've no use for you. My business is with Papa Francoise here." Perhaps it was the address itself, or may be the incongruity of the haughty tone and the grotesque face of the speaker, that caused Franz Francoise to give rein to a sudden burst of merriment, the signs of which he seemed unable to suppress although no audible laughter escaped his lips. He turned, at last, toward Papa and gasped, as if fairly strangled with his own mirth: