They don't fool me, though--not much they don't.

They're up to some deviltry, you can bet your sweet life, and we'll be hearing about it before long--" Paul's mind turned to the blonde giant who had ridden on the train from New York, and the group of friends who had been waiting for him at the station.
"He was up to something--the way he spoke," thought Paul.

"And last night he was in that car on the bridge....

Where do these Bols hang out ?" he asked aloud.
He was told they made their headquarters at Repetti's pool-room, but though he looked in that establishment half a dozen times in the course of the day, he failed to see them.
"Looking for somebody ?" an attendant asked him.
"Yes," said Paul.

"Tall man with a light beard.