'Baptiste here did the business,' I said, and the little Frenchman
nodded complacently and said--
'Dat's me for sure.'
'By the way, how is your foot?' asked Graeme.
'He's fuss-rate. Dat's what you call--one bite of--of--dat leel bees,
he's dere, you put your finger dere, he's not dere!--what you call him?'
'Flea!' I suggested.
'Oui!' cried Baptiste. 'Dat's one bite of flea.'
'I was thankful I was under the barrels,' I replied, smiling.
'Oui! Dat's mak' me ver mad. I jump an' swear mos' awful bad. Dat's
pardon me, M'sieu Craig, heh?'
But Craig only smiled at him rather sadly. 'It was awfully risky,' he
said to Graeme, 'and it was hardly worth it. They'll get more whisky,
and anyway the League is gone.'
'Well,' said Graeme with a sigh of satisfaction, 'it is not quite such a
one-sided affair as it was.'
And we could say nothing in reply, for we could hear Nixon snoring in
the next room, and no one had heard of Billy, and there were others of
the League that we knew were even now down at Slavin's.
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