If the papers are not on your person, they are hidden somewhere." Fremont only shook his head.

In the growing light Jimmie could see that he was very pale, that he seemed tired out, as if he had been traveling all night.

However, the white face he saw had a determined look, and Jimmie marveled at the mental processes which should so obstinately defend a wrong idea, which, of course, he only guessed.
"Everything you have done since you left the building that night is known to me," the big man went on.

"You deserve death for the marplot that you are, but I will release you if you will restore the papers." Fremont made no reply whatever to this.

As a matter of fact, he did not even know the nature of the papers which were so in demand, Nestor having told him little of his real mission to Mexico.