The instant he knew that his
brigands had made a mistake, the fellow would be out after
Nestor with a larger force, and that would make it dangerous
for the boy, would hamper him in the work he was there to do.
Besides, he believed that the course he proposed would gain
time, and that Nestor would certainly come to his rescue.
"You are making a mistake," the big man threatened, as Fremont
again denied knowledge of the papers. "You are known to have
been in the Cameron building that night. You are known to
have taken the papers away from there, and to have made use
of them. I won't say what treacherous use now. 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. In the meantime Jimmie way trying in every way
he could think of, without revealing his presence, to catch
Fremont's eye and make him understand that help was at hand,
and that he ought to reveal his identity and so create delay,
as well as escape whatever cruelty the big fellow had in store
for the boy he was being mistaken for.
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